Breezy Way’s Céilí, March 10, 1998 – September 21, 2009
Céilí, an Anatolian Shepherd, joined my canine family at eight weeks old, but I first met her at four weeks old. We’d gone to look at a litter of pups, and she kept climbing in my lap. She “picked me out of the litter” LOL! She was a wild child as a puppy (aka, Devilchild), too rambunctious to be a good livestock guardian, and we had our challenges along the way. She became a house dog when we moved six years ago. By then, she had settled down and become a more quiet presence. Our relationship grew deep over the years, but never had the intensity of the one with the chessie mix who crossed over three years ago (and came back into my life as another Anatolian!), whose passing again left me devastated and depressed.
Last March, at a canine massage workshop, I felt a lump in her shoulder, but couldn’t find it again when at the vet’s a couple weeks later. Soon, she became noticeably stiff, mainly in the rear, and started limping slightly on the left rear leg — not surprising at age eleven. Chiropractic helped some. Then she went lame on the left front leg (where I had previously found the lump). Thinking Lyme (again), she was put on Doxy, but didn’t respond this time. Rimadyl did help for a while, and while the front leg improved, the left rear was failing fast. This was in July, and soon the bone cancer became quite apparent. Yet, through two different animal communicators, she insisted that assistance to cross was not needed nor desired, that she still had a job to do, that she wanted to give ALL that she could give.
And what gifts they were! As I watched her deteriorate and in obvious pain (and often questioned my sanity for letting her go through this), she again insisted she would need no help, that “she” was not in pain. I learned how she (and most animals) can separate from the body’s experiences far better than we can (they’re not as “stuck” in the physical as we are).
That last night, my partner was staying with her. At one point, he woke up with her propped on her elbows, smiling, and “looking like a puppy again.” Then she drank water, and started thrashing so much that he woke me up to come help. She calmed down some; I gave her some ice cream (her favorite!) and some pain pills, which calmed her a little more. But even then, it was like she was “pushing out”, like labor pains, but her effort to leave her body. I lay beside her, her head resting on my arm. I dozed off, still aware of her whiny, raspy breathing. Then, a couple little gasps. I was wide awake immediately. She looked at me, another little gasp, and she was gone. Just like that.
Words can’t describe the amazing feeling that came with that. All her love and trust, the honor and privilege of being there with her during that moment. And even though I had been aware of her goodbyes to various people and places over the last couple of months, the full power of her deliberate creation and the Knowing that went into it, didn’t really hit until the final moment. The profoundness of it, the awe I felt (and still do), transcends any sadness over her “loss.” I am forever grateful to her for this most amazing experience!
