|
I always believed that my pets were eternal, and Tonka, unfortunately, wasn’t the first that I sent to dog or cat heaven. The days before his death were so painful for all of us, but mostly for him. I spent those nights awake with him, trying to comfort him, helping him in and out of the house, standing outside in the freezing cold wondering if he would simply die on his own in the cold snow. Tonka loved snow, you see. Winter was his favorite season. He would find that one last patch of snow (even in springtime) and lay there for hours. To say my dog’s life wasn’t typical would probably be an understatement. He went everywhere with us, and was likely one of the most well-traveled dogs that ever lived. And everywhere he went, he made friends. His friendly countenance just pulled everyone in (once they got past the fear of his size and ‘mean’ looks). He was our first baby. Heck, he had his own newspaper – the Tonka Times, which explained our lives from his point of view. He loved his little brother Ezra dog, as well as his little sister Sam. Both were a heck of an adjustment for him, and the only time in our lives with him that he was mad at us for a few days. Monday, February 12 was a bad day for us. While my husband had Tonka at the vet, I was visiting a clinic for an ultrasound because my doctors were concerned about my lymph nodes, and thought I might have lymphoma. I walked out of that office with a biopsy scheduled for first thing Thursday morning. My husband walked out of the vet’s office with an appointment to put our dog to sleep on Thursday afternoon. Neither of us knew of the other appointment, but needless to say, both things happening at once made for a really rough week. Thursday, February 15 came all too quickly. I had bought a book for our daughter called ‘Dog Heaven’ in the hopes that she would understand where Tonka was going. I must have read it a hundred times, to both her and Tonka (at her request). I took her to day care, and had my biopsy that morning. They told me I would have the results the next day, so I simply went home to spend time with Tonka. The vet came to our house to put him to sleep, and found me laying in the snow next to Tonka, in the shade on the patio in our backyard, his favorite place to be. I could tell that he was scared, wondering who these people were, wondering what they were doing to him. Tonka died at approximately 1:15 pm, in my arms, with his dad and Ezra by his side. The entire time they were preparing him and injecting him, he licked my face. He kept licking my face and licking my face, and I was heartbroken wondering if he was thanking me and telling me that he loved me, or begging me not to do this. It was a question that I suffered with all night, asking my pet loving friends, and all of them assuring me that he was thanking me and telling me that he loved me. Friday morning, I didn’t go to work. I couldn’t. I spoke with some of my colleagues, all of them concerned about me with the loss of Tonka, as well as with my health. I told them that I firmly believed that when Tonka got to heaven, he ran right past all of the deer and antelope that he could chase, right past all the dog treats, right past all the people waiting to greet him, and went straight to God. He then told Him that he was worried about me, and that my results had to be good, because his mom just couldn’t handle anymore. And God agreed, and shook his paw, and took him on a grand tour. At 1:15 pm that afternoon, I stood in the window and looked out on the patio at the place where he died. I put my hand on the glass and cried, telling him that I missed him. I guessed that he passed at 1:15 pm. Guessed because I looked at my watch when they took him away, and it was shortly after 1:20 pm, and I knew there wasn’t much time that had passed. But that day, 24 hours later, my phone rang. I looked at the clock when I picked up the phone, and it was 1:17 pm. What I heard was astounding. ‘Amy, it’s …. And I’m calling with really good news.’ The results of the biopsy were negative. I didn’t have cancer. When I hung up the phone, I knew. I knew that Tonka was licking my face because he was thanking me and telling me he loved me. I knew that the story I told that morning about his arrival in heaven was right. I knew that he was OK. And I needed that. The timing of that call was too astounding to not have the hand of God involved. To add to God’s grace, several other things happened that day. I took Ezra to the park, and there were geese everywhere for him to chase (that’s his favorite thing to do). When we came home, there were geese in our yard. Now, this happens on occasion, but I figure Tonka put them there for Ezra on this day. Just a little something to make his little brother feel better, even if just for the 10 seconds it took him to chase them out of the yard. My husband’s angst was with the snow, because you could still see the outline of his body in the snow bank where he died, could still see his paw prints throughout the yard. That night, although it wasn’t forecast, it snowed. Not a lot, just a light dusting, but enough to cover all of those things. I believe that was Tonka’s gift to his dad. So, in the end, we all were given a gift to put our hearts at ease. Something that only could have come from Tonka, something that only he could have known. Maybe it’s crazy, but it makes me smile to think of Tonka sitting in heaven, with God patting his head and telling him that He will make it alright for all of us, for his pack. I miss him terribly, but I know he’s in heaven. I know he’s eternal. I know that he’s there waiting for us and everyone that we love that goes before us. I don’t think there is any other way to explain all of the things that happened starting exactly 24 hours after we let him go… Amy (February 2007) |
