In Loving Memory of …

So many people contact me for sessions with their animal friends either right after they have passed or when the animal is extremely ill.  In order to create a space where they can visit their friend and memorialize that life, I’ve offered this page.  Even if you have not had a session with me, please feel free to post comments below in honor of your special friends. 

In loving memory of Bunker, April 19, 1995-January 14, 2009.

 

Bunker

 

On January 14th, 2009 we lost our beloved Chevalier Du Desert AKA Bunker. He was a Valiant, loving, deeply spiritual, and delightful dog. We feel blessed to have had him in our lives. He taught us patience, compassion, and so much more. He was always so full of life and ran like the wind. He was magnificent to watch and loved every single person and dog he met. Bunker had no enemies! Even when he could no longer walk, he showed more courage and more determination than I have ever seen. He always had a great attitude no matter how down he was. Even in his last few days of life when he was refusing food, he still tried hard to please us. He was so precious and he is missed beyond measure. I just cannot believe that he is gone. Everything I have been taught about death is screaming out at me…. I am a quantum physics gal and a Ramtha student and in these teachings, you find that nothing is solid, we are all energy… Death is but an illusion. People go to other dimensions other planes, so dogs and other animals must do the same. We just don’t have the eyes to see this. There are people walking around who are thousands of years old and could prove that a person can live forever in the human body, yet again-we do not have the eyes to see this phenomenon, that doesn’t make it any less real. We buy into the illusions….. That is why Jesus said, “The Kingdom of Heaven is within You”. If one were to master one’s own life, look only within and not outside for healing, etc.., we could live forever. The body is designed to never break down. My son, Ian says…..No one can “die” of old age, it is disease that you “die” from-unless a person is simply bored and decides to ascend. Depending on your belief system in your lifetime, is where you end up, but all in all, it is just another plane of existence. I am just wondering in all of this………….. WHERE IS MY DOG?????? My son says, Bunker is just taking a break from life. But I ask, When is he coming back? Bunker wherever you are, I sure hope you are happy, playing, rolling around in the grass, basking in the sun, and RUNNING LIKE THE WIND! You are a magnificent KNIGHT and wherever you are I bet you are a shining star. I love you for all eternity my brilliant friend. I won’t say goodbye, because I have this feeling, I will see you again!   Angela Elliott

In Loving Memory of Poser:

Seeing everything through a new set of eyes.  I’ve waited to write this since Poser’s passing because I couldn’t imagine how I could share the fullness and totality of what she meant to me or of who she was and still is.  As I talked with a friend this morning, my friend asked me how I was doing with the loss of Poser.  My throat started quivering and my eyes filled up with tears.  I don’t feel as though I grieve on a regular basis.  I go on with my days and experience a full array of feelings and thoughts as though any day was like any other.  But this morning when my friend asked how I was feeling since Poser’s passing I was surprised by the depth of my grief, of my sorrow and loneliness without her.  What I heard come out of my mouth is worthy of sharing about Poser.  What I told my friend is that I thought Poser came to me in my dreams last night.  I remember seeing her in front of me the way she was when she was here.  I don’t imagine her daily but I do think of her.  I don’t feel the loss of her essence and spirit because they are one with me.  But I do miss her physical presence and the warmth and healing she brought into my life – every single day and every single moment.  I told my friend that I have never known the depth of presence that Poser shared with me.  And this statement resonated in such a profound way as an ultimate truth.  It was the first time that the feeling translated into words and came out of my mouth. I know that words would fail me if I attempted to expound on this.  So I will leave it at that.  My dear friend, Poser shared with me something that sadly I think few have the honor and blessing to experience.  And as I just wrote that sentence what came to me is that what Poser shared with me might be like what God is.  The compassion and love and presence that is greater than any other.  This all helps me to understand a li ttle better what it might feel like for someone to think that in moving through the grief they might loose site of the deep love they feel.  But now I am realizing that moving through the grief actually helps to expand the love I feel and helps me to share with others the gift that Poser shared with me.  And, she not only shared this precious gift with me, but shared it in abundance with anyone who would accept it.  I feel in my heart that that’s what Poser wanted and still does want for us all.

 

DZ Radza

January 1, 1977 – July 2, 2008.  Radza you will be deeply missed by Pat and your horse friends.  May you and they all find peace, compassion and justice as they process your untimely passing.

“Barkley was my best friend, first child (after 2 terrible miscarriages) and all-around cool guy around a house of 3 little boys and 2 doting parents. He was the light of our lives and we all agree, our lives are a little bit better because we knew and loved him.”

In Loving Memory of Shaw
Shaw passed over at 6pm on Saturday 8/25/07. We made his last day special by taking him to his favorite place dogie beach. Thanks for reminding us how much he loved Lake Michigan. We had not taken him there since is relapse 2 years ago. We found a doggie beach that was more accessible for him. He even ran to the water. He loved his last meal of raw meat, oranges, and cacao. I always use an orange spray in the house and he would lick his lips, so I guess that is why he wanted oranges. Knowing that maroon is his favorite color I wrapped him in a maroon towel as he was being injected. I know that he was ready to go, but waves of sadness still enters my body. At the beach so many people wanted to hear his story and told us about his strong will to live, to which I could only be silent knowing that it was his last day. Thanks again for making this so much easier for us.  –Bonita, Chicago, IL

Shaw’s Last Words
Shared in an Animal Communication session the day before Shaw died: “The circle closes and so it becomes whole.”  He also led me to this final quote by Black Elk: “The first peace … is that which comes within the souls of men when they realize their relationship, their oneness with the universe and all its powers.”

Rosie passed in Fall 2007 when someone fed her a poisoned carrot.  She makes frequent appearances in Animal Communication Workshops.  Several students have noticed a white horse galloping rapidly around them when they invited any animal to come through for communication.  Rosie’s characteristic excitement in life flows through in her desire to help people recognize deeper connections with all horses.  She especially wants to fight for the rights of wild horses and those who live in less than nurturing conditions.  Thanks and Blessings, Rosie!

In Loving Memory of Grace …

an excerpt of Robin’s “Letter to Gracie”:

I was touched by the way you began to watch me, to watch for my car, and me to show your enjoyment in my company. I loved kissing your delicate eyelids, those almond shaped eyes. I loved watching you ease into the tiny scratching I’d do for you around your lids. I loved to smell and touch your nostrils with my nose. Just like KoKo, the gorilla, I liked to play the game, Blow. I loved to softly exhale into your nostrils while you inhaled and wait. My returning breath, warmed by your lungs, filled with your essence, came back to me with a touch of the universal; the breath of life itself. Even now, I melt into your sweet horsy smell, your baby soft nose, holding your image still and quiet in my mind, my secret place of peace and calm. I loved to see your enjoyment when I massaged your sweet spots; like the itchy place on your withers, your bumpy little belly button, the crusty space between your teats, that puffy place inside your ears, and that soft spot between your hind legs where the muscles roll together.

The most deeply rewarding aspect of our relationship is our soul-filled connection, from heart to heart, breath-to-breath, one being to another. Both initially somewhat fearful, we learned to trust and to love one another, until for me, riding without the bridle became an expression of that safety. I am so glad you allowed me to canter bridle free on our last rides together. It was so much fun! …

In Loving Memory of Riley, Dearest companion of my beautiful friend Electra Jung:

“it just confounds me to think how someone can come into your life and by small things, day by day, make such an impact and touch your heart so deeply. how did it come to be that i am so fond of this creature with wise eyes and so very struck with sadness that he is now gone. there was something otherworldly about him, but what he had to contribute to our lives was so simple and eartlhy – he was just there, reliable and protective. i could count on him and trust him (and thats more than I can say about humans). he was compassionate and loving and above all regal. he is my teacher. …

“Our remarkable boy has found his peace in the company of nature and wild things. He rests in the grace of the world…he lies in the shadow of Cathedral Rock…near the whispering rush of his adored Oak Creek.”

In Loving Memory of WEBSTER

He had a short stubby tail and extra toes. He came into my life as a 12 week old kitten who appeared at the door of the local dog groomer where my dogs went for baths.

A few days before he came into my life, my sixteen year old cat Lily was put to sleep on the rug in my bedroom. It was a sunny morning and our wonderful friend and vet Carlene had come out to the house to give Lily her injection. Her death was overwhelming for me and for the first time in my life I considered medication for depression. The slightest thought of Lily would cause me to burst into tears and I felt like I was barely functioning. Thanks to Webster, that was a passing thought. He walked into the house and made it his own when he collapsed into my chest and fell asleep.

For almost eighteen years he was the little man of the house. Everyone who walked through the door was given the same welcome and unconditional love. He made friends fast, not only with people but with other animals as well. The memories are countless but a favorite is the day I came down the hall to my bedroom to find Webster in conversation with a mouse. The mouse was sitting up on his haunches talking to Webster in a squeaky voice. My impression was that he was asking not to be eaten. Webster sat there intently, patiently listening without making a move. I left them to it and only a few days later did I find a mouse head under the bed in the guest room. I guess Webster’s feline nature got the best of his higher self.

Words will not suffice when trying to describe the connection we shared. I knew he did not want to go to the office of an unknown veterinarian in South Dakota for a lethal injection. Our animal doctor in Vermont would have come to the house to put him to sleep. In addition, I felt my other cat, Charlie, needed to be part of the process in order for him to understand what had happened to Webster.

Thursday was the last day that Webster could walk. In the middle of the night he had gotten off the bed and crawled to a safe spot under the table against the wall. I made a little nest for him there where he immediately made himself comfortable and fell asleep. By morning he was no longer in that spot but under the bed. When he saw me he began to purr full throttle as I scooped him up and made a soft bed with my sweatshirt, one of his favorites, in a large cardboard box to insure that he would have a safe space to sleep and provide me with the ability to keep track of him. He had lost more than half of his body weight and could now crawl into just about any space in the apartment.

For the next three days, Charlie and I kept watch over his predominantly peaceful body. He slept, occasionally waking, snuggling with Charlie and, with the touch of my hand and the reiki energy flowing through me, he would become relaxed and sleep again till the next time.

On Sunday evening his breathing began to change and again reiki calmed him and made him comfortable. It seemed to me that this energy work took the place of morphine for a human at the last stages of life. For Webster, all he wanted was to be with me, to know that I was with him and would stay till the end.

Sunday night was our most stressful. Every few hours he would wake confused and a little disoriented. He always responded to reiki and after a minute or two would fall back to sleep.

Webster passed at 5:30 on Monday morning. Not twenty minutes before I had remembered my mother asking me to “help her to go up” just a couple of hours before she passed. I was stroking Webster’s fur when he and Charlie both began to vocalize loudly, to the point where I thought the neighbors would hear them. Within a moment Webster was standing on his hind legs and striving to be vertical, not to get out of the box, but to go in an upwards trajectory. Suddenly he was gone and his body curled up into a peaceful ball on my sweatshirt.

Doris Day died on Monday, May 13^th 2019. The same day as Webster. She is quoted in the New York Times as saying:

“During the painful and bleak periods I’ ve suffered through these past years, my animal family has been a source of joy and strength to me. I have found that when you are deeply troubled, there are things you get from the silent, devoted companionship of your pets that you can get from no other source.

I have never found in a human being, she added, loyalty comparable to that of any pet.”

Later on Monday, I looked up at the sky and felt Webster’s being everywhere. He has made it to where he was going. I like to think that he joined the other members of the Furry Feroletos and that they are all celebrating together his heroic transition.

Charlie is the last of six dogs, two horses, and five cats that span a 33 year time period. We shared our lives at a time when animals where showing the world that they, too, held consciousness. Some of my most happiest times were spent with them. If they were happy, I was happy too. And believe me, they knew how to be happy.