Cyberpet's Dog Economics

The brittle frost sparkling on the air of a crisp December morning stirs in my bones the memory of a Christmas not so long ago. A Christmas when a hay wagon filled with carolers -- never seen before or since -- lightened a burden of pain; a Christmas when the wings of unseen beings whispered their presence and angels came to visit.

Death brings with it many things: sorrow, busyness, the future and the unexplained. Seldom does it bring a gift of love. Unless it comes at Christmas and manifests itself in a discernable form, like a dog...

One evening we waited, my mother, husband and myself. Our vigil was held in the dark of a holiday night, the glow from the tree casting soft light into a room hushed by the significance of what was occurring. In a bedroom, the one with the outdoor view of an electric Christmas angel, my aunt Helen was hard at work, preparing to die, laboring to step from this life into the realm of mystery.

As death came nearer, or as she chose to approach it more nearly, the chill of our winter rooms grew subtly warmer. The three of us watching with Helen glanced silently at one another. Others were present; we knew it, we felt it, we heard it in our hearts, like words from prayers made by saints in ages past. A doorway was temporarily opening that bridged the gap between time and eternity, death and Life.

Even the dogs, who also intently waited with us, recognized the holiness of the moment. Though they had all been wondrously careful not to disturb or hurt Helen during her hospice with us, one of them now stirred and began frantically banging at the gate that separated them from her. Despite our efforts to restrain him, Oslo persisted in his attempts to get to Helen. We relented and allowed him into her room.

Oslo, a Norwegian Elkhound with crippling hip dysplasia, tried desperately to climb onto the bed with Helen, who was fidgeting restlessly and groaning in great discomfort. Common sense told me to leave Oslo on the floor, but an inner urging made me lift him onto my aunt's bed.

Her fingers began opening and closing. Oslo pushed his way beside her and I guided her hand onto the dog. Immediately, her hand relaxed and she weakly stroked his fur. Her moans subsided, her ragged breathing eased and she lapsed into a peaceful calm. Oslo settled himself against Helen and waited.

The dog sat vigil with her for over an hour. Then suddenly, he jumped from the bed and returned to where we sat. Soon after, she drew her last breath. Helen died at Christmas, with the angels and a dog watching over her and guiding her on her way...

Although holidays now stir bittersweet feelings of loss and happier times gone before, they are poignantly joyful as well. Aunt Helen and Oslo gave me a gift, on a Christmas I could not, nor would want to forget. Shiny packages under a tree pale in comparison to memories of more meaningful presents: of angel wings ruffling the air and a dog who served to show God's love and compassion for us all.

Each year since, as I rush to shop, bake or decorate , I struggle to recapture that Christmas, to understand again the mystery I thought I understood. When my efforts fail, I stop, pet Oslo and the other dogs, and listen, straining to hear the words of carols drifting from a hay wagon that once chanced to pass this way. Faintly in my soul, I hear an echo of their message and am reminded again, for a short season, that the epiphany of the Messiah is in our hearts.

~ ~ ~
The Carol of the Dog
What wondrous love is this, that sent such perfect peace?
Ye winged seraphs fly, spread the news:
That when from death I'm free,
I'll sing and joyful be
And through eternity I'll sing on...
(excerpted & compiled from the hymn "What Wondrous Love Is This?)
~ ~ ~

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and God's Blessings to You All.

THE CAROL OF THE DOG: SINGING A MYSTERY

THE CAROL OF THE DOG:
SINGING A MYSTERY