A few weeks ago, my mom made the difficult decision to put her dog down. Bree, a twelve-year-old Dandie Dinmont Terrier, was ill with both Cushing’s Disease and Diabetes. Bree had been a beautiful and loving companion to my parents and recently, she had provided a great deal of comfort to my mom as she was dealing with the illness and loss of her husband and her sister.
I took Bree to the vet. After she had taken her last breath, I left the vet’s office with a heavy heart, and with tears in my eyes I started the car. A Matchbox 20 song was playing on the radio.
“I think I’ve already lost you, I think you’re already gone…I think you’re already leaving, feels like your hand is on the door…”
I felt a ripple of energy surge through my body leaving a trail of goose bumps up and down my spine. I had experienced synchronicities like this one before but never in relation to a pet. On high alert now, I listened intently to the rest of the lyrics.
“If you’re gone, maybe it’s time to come home…there’s an awful lot of breathing room but I can hardly move...If you’re gone, baby, you need to come home…there’s a little bit of something me in everything in you…”
Dumbfounded, I sat in the car.
I was puzzled, perplexed and mystified. Where was this message coming from? Was it coming from a higher power? Was it coming from Bree? Was it possible for Bree to communicate with me through a song? She had only been gone a few short minutes. Was it possible for her to communicate with me so quickly? Does Bree have a soul? All these questions swirled through my head.
Spiritual teacher and writer Gary Zukav says that dogs do have a soul. He says it’s a group soul that all dogs share and it’s an enormous, expansive sphere of energy that is dog consciousness. This singular soul energy system is what all dogs tap into when they are living (it’s what gives dogs their instinctual behaviour) and it’s what all dogs return to after they pass away.
I had been thinking seriously of “coming home” for quite some time. My mom had been diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis a few years ago and her health was declining. After spending some time with her at the cottage over the summer, I wasn’t certain she could handle living on her own anymore. And I knew dealing with another loss would be really hard for her.
Was Bree’s soul speaking to me? Was she telling me to come home?
“I bet you’re hard to get over, I bet the room just won’t shine…if you’re gone, maybe it’s time to come home…there’s an awful lot of breathing room but I can hardly move…and if you’re gone, yeah, baby, you need to come home…there’s a little bit of something me in everything in you.”
I drove home and my mom and I managed to get through the day. I didn’t tell her about the song. I didn’t want her to think I was crazy. I went to bed that night with lots of questions and no easy answers. Why did the song play when it did? Was it just a coincidence? Was it something more? Would mom be okay if I left? Should I move back home? Was the song a message from Bree telling me to come home?
That night, I dreamed I was at a family party. My dad and my aunt who had passed away were there. My aunt came up to me. She had Bree in her arms. She asked if I’d like to speak to Bree.
“I can do that?” I asked incredulously. “I can speak to Bree?”
“Yes, you can,” she laughed, delighted that she was able to communicate this important information to me. “Here, let me show you how,” she said.
She sat down on the floor with Bree in her lap and she told me to sit directly across from her. Then she said I should ask Bree some questions.
I asked my first question and I was astounded when Bree answered in words I could easily understand. I was even more amazed when Bree suddenly transformed into a beautiful young woman as she was talking to me. Awestruck, I continued to talk to Bree for a while. I asked her all sorts of questions while both my aunt and my dad remained close by.
When I woke up in the morning, I remembered the dream vividly but I couldn’t remember any of Bree’s answers to me. I was deeply disappointed. (I do remember asking Bree if she was okay. She replied that she was just fine.)
I suspect Bree shared the secrets of the universe during her conversation with me. (Those are no doubt the questions I would have asked.) I’m saddened to know I can’t remember her answers. I tell myself that perhaps there are some things in life that we aren’t meant to know.
Then I tell myself that maybe I remember more of the conversation than I realize, deep down in my soul.
I tell myself this because shortly after Bree’s passing and my ethereal conversation with her, I made the life-altering decision to come home.
Debbie L. Kasman
Author Lotus of the Heart: Reshaping the Human and Collective Soul