It's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die ... and I say someone here even though the one in question was a dog - but to us he had character and a place forever in our hearts and was more of a familiar someone than some of the people in our lives. So, I'll start again - it's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die, our senses go into overdrive. We notice things that normally would be part of the background of our every day. We breathe more - or rather, we don't but what we do is notice our breathing more, as we watch his. We pause. We think. We listen to ourselves and our inner voices speak. Memories flood our dreams ... though sleep is fitful.
Why am I telling you this? ...
... we lost this beautiful boy today
And in the hours before he went, I saw perfect spheres of dew on blades of grass - little orbs holding micro-images of our world; a bumble bee drunk on nectar, yellow-dusted with pollen, resting in a crocus; ten - yes, ten! - raptors mewing and spiralling high on thermals; and clouds their mares' tails thinly whipping the horizon, where a line of deer stood, silhouetted black against the pale blue sky. It was like I didn't want to forget a single second. Didn't want time to pass. Wanted, perhaps, for it to stop.
But he needed to go.
Two nights ago, in the sky near Orion, I saw two shooting stars. When our emotions are heightened, it's normal, isn't it, to see signs everywhere? I saw those fleeting streaks of light and told the stars it was time - they could have my darling boy. Then yesterday, as he lay in the garden, in his favourite place - behind the greenhouse, almost but not quite on top of a pile of old pots - and a breeze ruffled his hair and flicked his ears, I told the wind it could take him.
In the end, time and kindness took him. We'll miss him. And right now, I can't think of better words than these -
"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
Winnie the Pooh, A.A. Milne
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