| As Tynley and I lounged and snuggled, I looked into her deep-brown, soulful eyes and said, “I promise to keep on living and pursuing adventure like we’ve always done together, hard though it may be, no matter what.”
Running my hand along her paw as we were cuddling there so as to never forget anything about it, I thought of all the places her four paws had led her as we journeyed together through her almost 16 years and the beautiful parts of my 20s, 30s, and 40s. I thought, “These four paws implemented her heart’s desires and what an authentic, flawless heart and soul she has.” Our earthly journey together, simply worded, was perfect.
As I write now, looking at my laptop’s background picture of her young puppy paws and my feet intertwined in the beach sand then reviewing the picture I took of her 15-year-old paw as we soaked in one of our last moments here on earth together, though I wrench in today’s pain, I feel deep down in my core what pure love is.
In her first class at obedience school, where she was valedictorian according to her understandably-boastful Gandpa (no r, recipient of Tynley’s adulation), beating out the one other dog taking the course, my task as the dog parent of this student was to teach her to become accepting of her paws being touched. She excelled immediately in giving me that “valedictorian” win, not because of her irrefutable intelligence, but because of her innate ability to trust and look for the good in every piece of life.
Tynley was my “soul dog,” and the two of us will forever be connected. Her soul and mine found one another. She was a gift from above, one I will cherish and later enjoy the presence of once more for all of eternity.
Her tender, radiant soul was best referenced by my sincere three-year-old cousin as we pulled away from where we had just laid Tynley to rest, my heart full of sorrow. Full of unalloyed thought and with a desire for understanding, in her tiny, high-pitched voice, she asked, “Anna, how is Tynley up in heaven and down here next to us in the ground?” I explained, somehow with courage, that when we pass away, our bodies stay here on earth, but that everyone’s soul, the part of us that makes us happy and who we are, goes up to heaven. She took a brief moment to absorb my words and followed quite quickly with a desire for confirmation of her understanding: “So, Tynley’s soul was the part that made her tail wag?” From the mouths of babes and the behavior of man’s best friend, we can learn lessons about how to live.
Tynley and I realized our dreams together one day at a time. She promised me with her eyes on the day I reviewed her paw that leaves abiding emotion that she would continue to pursue adventure in heaven, taking those paws wherever they lead her until I get there.
Until we meet again, my precious angel….
Tynley 9/25/05-6/6/21
* a blog dedicated to the two devoted, caring veterinarians, Dr. Dale Brown and Dr. Nicolle Rubendall, who, with their minds, hands, and hearts, allowed Tynley to roam this beautiful earth with carefree innocence
Dale and Nicolle,
I thank you both for treating Tynley and me with the kind of love that I can only assume through observation led you to pursue your profession in the first place. You both excel in your field and in being the kind of “good” Tynley looked for in all that exists on this earth. For your loving care, I will forever be grateful.
Love,
Anna | |
