I got a call from Grace on Monday.
Her dog, Angus had died suddenly after a successful osteosarcoma amputation.
Angus was a lab/newfie mix.
He was big and sweet and the love of Grace’s life.
He died on Saturday.
Grace was devastated.
I walked into Grace’s house, and things seemed a little off.
There was something not quite right.
Grace had a little shrine of pictures of Angus, and his dog bed was still center stage in the living room. Grace kept the tears back as she talked about her sweet dog.
Often, when I look at a picture of a passed-away dog, I get a little energetic bit of information, and I’ll also hear, Hey, Hi! Hi there! (or something like that). When I looked at Angus’ picture, I got nothing.
Grace told me that she was surprised at how deeply she was feeling this loss. She’d lost beloved pets and human friends and family before, but this time she felt frantic and upset and peaceless.
I realized that Angus probably hadn’t passed over. I tuned in. I heard him say, Okay, I’m going. I felt a little eye roll from Angus. I watched him go into the tunnel.
The tunnel of light looks like a tunnel that’s literally woven of light. It’s bright and beautiful.
We waited a bit. Grace started to calm. I contacted Angus again and he showed me that he had been met by an older man, wearing a grey suit and a dapper grey hat. His hair was grey and black.
At first, Grace thought that might be the man who found Angus when he was a puppy. I said that I thought his hat looked reminiscent of the hat my grandfather and uncles wore in the 60′s. Very Mad Men. Grace asked, Could it be my dad?
She brought out a picture. Yes. It was her dad. I am always a little surprised when I see a physical picture that matches the picture in my head.
We checked back in with Angus. He said, I found the dogs and I found the cats, but where are the people?
He showed me dogs and cats.
Grace laughed and said, Angus was always a people dog. He went to daycare, but he went to see his people friends. Angus was not a doggy dog.
Then Angus said, I need to find him. Angus showed me a picture of a teenager in a pair of swimming trunks. The teenager had red hair.
I asked Grace, Who is the boy with the red hair? Did she know a boy with red hair who had passed away?
She did. A dear friend’s son had been born with severe physical disabilities. He had unnaturally red hair. Nicky had lived until he was about elementary age, but he would be in his teens now.
I asked, “Did he like to swim?”
Yes. He would come to her condo and swim in the pool. He loved the water.
We waited until Angus found him. Nicky was tall and whole and happy. He pet Angus on the head. Nicky was with a blonde girl. They were eating spaghetti. They shared it with Angus.
It looked like they were at a summer camp.
I asked Angus, Is this Nicky?
Yes. he said. I wanted to show Grace that he was okay.
We could not figure out who the girl was.
Angus told Grace that he would be around her until she had someone in her life with an energy like his. He said, It could be a dog or a man. Somebody manly and protective.
Grace laughed. She said that even though there was another dog in the house (Crosby), Angus was definitely the man of the house.
Angus felt bad that he had to leave already. He was annoyed. I told him that I thought that he’d feel better pretty soon. Heaven has that effect on us.
We looked around the room. The energy had changed. Grace could breathe better. She was still grieving, but it was manageable.
I love it when I see the other side, and when I see how our lives and connections don’t stop, simply because our bodies do. And I love a dog that’s faithful and caring and thinking about his loved one, even after he’s passed away.