Life from Death

I had 2 of my senior pets die 5 days apart this year and in their time of dying, they taught me how to live.

You know when you have a pet, that someday they will leave you. As a human, I try not to think about it. I never want them to go.

But death is an integral part of living.

Martin

Martin was a brave cat, who loved everyone. He preferred the green woods and was an exceptional hunter. Living in our bus was what he preferred, until this winter when he lived on our couch, purring next to the wood stove.

I kept looking for something wrong, but I never saw it. We enjoyed his extravagant love those months and I was in awe of the constant farm buddy he was, and how loving he had always been, even though it was usually just 10 minutes a day after eating…

I came home one day to him not inside. Searching, I found him in the bus, his favorite place in the whole world, with his back legs not really working.

Still he was cheerful and loving. The doctor said it was a stroke and there was nothing we could do, saying, “Wow! He’s so healthy for 15!”

I took him home and cried. He just looked me straight in the face, head nudged me, and let me know that he was good with dying. He almost looked sorry for ME.

A noble creature of the woods, he begged to be set free from the confines of the house.

It was in that moment that I felt the beauty of his knowing. I was struggling with his passage, but he was not. He was ready, and deserved to meet Death on his terms.

That morning I took him outside and watched as he staggered like a drunken sailor into the woods, never to be seen again.

I have thought about how much I fight the “deaths” in my life, instead of meeting them head on— on MY terms!

Martin taught me the delight of living life fully. His heart was so open. He loved strangers and even unfamiliar dogs. He would slide up next to newcomers and mark them with his cheeks, confidently proclaiming, “I’m happy to share space with you. Let’s hang out.”

This year I have been looking at my reluctance to embrace the unfamiliar. I find myself remembering Martin and choosing to meet life, and the unfamiliar, head on with delight and trust. Maybe you too can use a lesson from Martin’s playbook?

Teiko

Teiko is a Finnish word that means to hit your mark (as with a rifle shot). He was super sensitive.

Look at those eyes!

You can see the deep concern. He always wanted to know that everyone was where they should be and he did

not like disharmony, often jumping in between animals and humans who were arguing. “We have to all get along!” he would plead. Teiko was the keeper of our farm with a tender heart that won over anyone who met him and especially those willing to throw a ball! Anyone out there have an obsessive fetcher?

On a beautiful Friday in winter Teiko ran the river trail with me. He hadn’t wanted to come on a run with me in weeks. I remember him tiring easily, but being so happy as we ran passed the ferns and budding poplar trees, the scent of “almost spring” tickling our noses.

Saturday he disappeared all day. Martin had left 3 days before and my husband was distraught that Teiko was missing. Teiko returned that night, emerging from the woods, exhausted. Sunday I awoke before dawn to check on him. He had placed a deer skull from the woods on our back porch stoop. .

As soon as I went to greet him he arose and made for the woods

again. Desperate that evening I found him in my garden, laying where he never did. My heart sank. He passed the next day with me at the vet, as I wailed.

Staring at the deer skull he left with us I am reminded of how animals know that dying is a part of living.

Teiko told us every way he knew how that he was going to take the next step of his soul‘s journey through the doorway that leads...

He has shown me the gift of loving completely. I am grateful to have had a teacher so wise as to show what it means to shepherd with a heart of true compassion and care.

Death is a part of life. We die many times over, many deaths in our lifetime. People and pets pass, dreams die, relationships end, careers transition, and we bury parts of ourselves that need to go, through shadow work or the hand of the Fates.

Death comes to us all

Over and over again in our lives we rendezvous with death. The older I get, the more I know Death as a friend, freeing me from what no longer serves,

what holds me back, that which takes up space needed for the “something else”, and freeing me into a new now.

Thank you Death.

May we all bravely embrace the little deaths in life, meeting them head on when we can, accepting them as needs-must, and honoring each passing with greater trust.

Share a death below that you learned from or maybe later you were grateful for.