Anyone who believes animals don’t have souls, or are incapable of feelings like love, happiness or honour – well, that person has never owned a pet. Pet owners know animals enrich our lives in so many ways: they’re companions when we’re lonely, confidants when we feel there’s no one to tell our problems to and, most of all, playmates that bring out the joy in us.
(Yes, this is even true of cats. Felines are as loving as dogs – but don’t expect them to fetch a stick when you throw it.)
I would love to have a pet – unfortunately, I’m allergic to dander, which means my husband couldn’t bring his cat with him to Toronto when we married. But his cat, Sweetie, a Russian Blue, found a good home with a friend who often watched Sweetie when my then-fiancé had to leave town on business.
Several years ago, my daughter adopted Jax, a short-haired black lab, German shepherd and hound mix. Jaxy – as I called him – was a rescue with behavioural issues that needed some doggie-obedience school to learn to settle down. And settle down he did.
Miraculously, Jaxy never affected my allergies. So I was able to pet him when I visited my daughter, hug him and play fetch-the-stick. And Jaxy knew I loved him – whenever I sat down, he would stick his snout in my lap, look up at me with his dark, soulful eyes, and sigh with appreciation when I scritched the top of his head.
Jaxy didn’t act that way around my hubby, a cat aficionado. For sure, Jaxy regarded him, but left him alone, as if to say, “Okay, cat person, I get it, and I’m cool with it.” And then he’d bound over to me, and I’d give him double the affection.
I bought him toys at Christmas and on his birthday. Rawhide chews were his favourite, with stuffed animals he could carry around in his mouth a close second.
And then one day … Jaxy didn’t feel like playing much. As time went on, he lost his appetite. My daughter took him to the vet and he was diagnosed with cancer that had spread throughout his body. Heroic efforts with chemotherapy and other intervention measures were tried that seemed, at first, to work. I prayed for him every night. But…
My daughter called me in tears. She knew the day was coming when she would have to put Jax down. But making that decision was so hard. She and Jaxy had been pals for years. She asked me, the psychic with all the answers, right? When would be the right time to let him go?
“You’ll know when it’s time,” I said.
She knew it was the right time when Jax found it difficult to move. Tearfully, she brought him to the vet, where a veterinarian and several technicians were waiting to take care of him. They wanted him placed on the table, but holding him and lifting him caused him too much pain, so blankets were spread on the floor and Jaxy, surrounded by the people who loved him, was laid to put to sleep. And when the time came for Jaxy’s soul to release, the lights in the vet room brightly glowed once, and the room fell silent. It felt like all energy was sucked out of the room, my daughter said. Then a sense of calm was felt by all.
My daughter called me afterwards. In a tear-choked voice, she said her beloved companion was gone. Tears came to me, too, and I prayed the dog’s soul had a safe journey into heaven.
I went to bed that night with a heavy heart. I woke later to the sound of chuffing. Looking over to my side, I saw Jaxy placing his snout on the bed, looking up at me with his dark, soulful eyes, wagging his tail. My soul filled with elation. I reached out a hand to scritch his head – and he was gone.
In the morning, I telephoned my daughter to tell her what I’d seen. From the light tone of her voice, I could tell she was smiling. “That’s how Jaxy used to wake me up every morning.” (I didn’t know that!)
It’s been about a year now since Jaxy has passed, and I still feel him around from time to time. I’ll hear his big paws clopping across the floor, or see in my mind his big body stretched out lying on the carpet. I’m glad he comes to visit. I just wish I could scritch him one more time.
If you have any questions or comments on this subject or on any other spiritual matter, feel free to write me at carolyn@carolynmolnar.com