Earth Angels

To me, dogs are our little earth angels. They’ve been placed in this world and in our lives to bless us abundantly. They reflect the unconditional love of God in furry little packages. They’ve always reminded me of pure presence, and they have so much to teach us.

My first earth angel—Deacon’s big sis, Isla—has been such a gift in my life. In these last few weeks, she has been on the path of transition, and it’s been so hard to see her go from a curious, full-of-life-and-sense-of-adventure pup to now barely being able to walk across the yard or have any appetite for food (which she absolutely loved).

Deacon has known that something’s been changing for some time as well. He now keeps watch over her, and spends some time sitting with her. He reserves his enthusiasm for playing with (harassing) her, as good little siblings do. She’s the best teacher and big sis Deacon could ever have, and he’s been a lucky pup, including his older sibling, Bella the sassy little chihuahua.

For me, it’s been a stark reminder of how much Isla has brought to my life and to our family’s lives—when I look at the world, even being at home or in the neighborhood—I realize how much her protective, calm, steady presence has been a part of the fabric of my world these last 12 years and for the last few years for our entire pack.

I’m taken back to a memory from a few years ago, when Isla was still young and full of life, and we met a woman who was so drawn to her (so many people were drawn to her), but I remember this woman in particular, because there was such a deep well of presence and emotion that that encounter with Isla left her with. She told me with bittersweetness that Isla reminded her of her own dog, who passed away in the last two years. The closeness that they shared, the lives that they lived together, and the pain of losing her were in her eyes—and I knew then that it would be the same for me and Isla. What was laid out before me in that fleeting moment with this woman who felt something stir in her was the story of a soul bond, of family, intimacy and friendship. It was a soul connection, and in these small but powerful ways, God’s love is also revealed to us through our furry guides. I could sense it still in her very being, and in the emotions that this meeting stirred in her.

I give thanks for the immense blessing that Isla is, has been, and always will be for me and for our family, and for so many countless people that she touched—if only for a moment. But those moments have lasting, deep impact. I’m reminded too of how much each one of us has an impact on each other—both personally, and in the wider community and world. We need to care for ourselves and each other—and nurture those bonds.

I wrote the above just a few days to a week before Isla transitioned from this earthly plane to the spiritual. She told me it was time for her to go, to move on to her true home in the spirit. A few days before she passed, I had a vivid dream of her in even more of her wolf form. She was coming towards me in a beautiful forest, and I knew that she was free in spirit. She’s always been wild and free—and that’s what I loved so much about her. I knew then that she was home and protected, and that death is just a transformation and transition from one state to another.

The night she died, I prayed, and I blessed her to move forward when she was ready. I wanted her to know that she was loved, and that we wanted her to stay, but that she didn’t need to worry or stay for us. I know she remained here with us for an extra day to celebrate Deacon’s 2nd birthday (and her and Bella’s belated birthdays). It meant a lot to me for her to be there for this occasion and rite of passage for Deacon, and for him as well. I still tear up when I think about it, and writing this now.

That evening, I felt the presence of Jesus as I drifted off to sleep, almost lulling me to sleep. My husband woke me a little while later and told me that Isla had passed. I knew the moment that she did, because that was when God took her and welcomed her home. A few days later, a friend of ours who saw Isla before she passed told us that she was speaking in tongues with her, and she saw a clear vision of Isla running ever so fast towards Jesus—going home and happy. I didn’t know this until after she passed, and after my own vision, but it all coalesced in perfect divine timing and messaging.

My sweet Isla is now in heaven with God and the other angels, and she still watches over us–especially little Deacon.

The Walking Memorial

The day after she passed, we took the other two pups for a special outing into town; we all needed to get some air. We walked through the park near the orthodox church that we’ve taken all of them to when we first got to Timisoara, Romania. Isla walked through the park off leash sometimes, and this day we also walked by the fountains and the sculptures of important historical figures. The pups loved the open space, and as we retraced our familiar steps through the park, we felt Isla with us.

From beyond the park, we could hear the liturgy echoing out from the church, and as we were leaving the park, the bells started chiming. The fountains in the square were decorated so beautifully and colorfully for the Easter holiday (it is celebrated at a different time of year here in Eastern Europe), and suddenly—a cello player on the street started playing beautifully and wistfully. It truly felt like a walking memorial, with every element speaking to my heart and how much Isla still means to me, like everything was celebrating our time together. I also felt the wind move, like breath, like spirit—and this is how she communicated with me right after she passed, in our yard. Sometimes, the wind will suddenly pick up and blow ever so gently and meaningfully, especially when I think of her.

🌟 Blessing: