Regina Saskatchewan to Hinton Alberta

Standing in the ashes of what used to be . . .

Yesterday was a day of endings–not surprising given the work of the Destroyer in my life at this time. The first goodbye was to my long-time friend, Buster. Earlier in the week, his vets in Regina ran extensive blood and urine tests on him but were unable to find anything out of order. Notwithstanding, Buster was definitely suffering from some degenerative disease–whatever it was it was undoubtedly getting worse. One of the troubling symptoms of his affliction was frequency in urination and this was accompanied by restlessness and panting. While in Regina, he was needing to go out every two hours or so which meant a couple of bad nights’ sleep for both of us. I left Regina on Thursday with Buster, and by the time we arrived in Saskatoon, the frequency had moved to 20 minute intervals and was accompanied by urgency. Can I begin to tell you how difficult it is to visit the home of a dear friend with a dog who is ill in this way!

Earlier in the week, I was sensing that I would be faced with a decision regarding euthanasia but neither of the vets in Regina raised the issue and so I thought perhaps I was just being overly-anxious. My experience of Buster’s final night, however, convinced me that I needed to have this conversation with a vet as soon as possible. I met with a vet at the University Small Animal Clinic in Saskatoon, and he suggested that Buster might have cancer in the bladder. This would explain his symptoms and why there was no indication of the problem in the blood or urine tests. As I thought back over the past few weeks, it helped me understand a number of Buster’s difficulties, especially the night he experienced pain in his hind end but the pain was not related to his legs. I suspected at that time that the pain was originating from his lower abdomen. The vet offered to carry out more extensive tests (ultrasound, x-rays, etc.) but advised that I would likely come to the same decision one way or the other. Carell, my friend, had accompanied me to the clinic and all three of us agreed that euthanasia was the best choice given the circumstances.

I have never had to make this kind of decision before. When Patch, Buster’s litter-mate, died several years ago, I woke one morning to discover he had died in the night. For me, the decision was extremely difficult, but I know it was the most compassionate choice available. I was surprised at how peaceful the experience was. Sitting on the floor, I held Buster in my lap while the vet administered the anaesthesia. Buster just simply fell asleep in my arms. As he died, I could feel a tingling sensation in my hands which I understand to be the energy releasing from his body.

Other than his symptoms, which did not seem to be generating a lot of pain, Buster had a wonderful final day. He seemed very tired as a result of his loss of sleep and during his final hour, we just sat in Carell’s living room while I quietly petted him. My only regret is that I was not able to arrange for Buster to be cremated individually. My son, Wayne, wanted to have the ashes but unfortunately they will not be available. This, I’m afraid, has added fuel to the fire of his anger towards me at this time. I hope and pray that one day he will be able to accept that I made the best decision I could in light of the circumstances.

Following Buster’s death, I continued my journey to Wainwright where Ron and I signed divorce papers. Although the papers will take several weeks to move through the legal system, my signature set in motion my intention to divorce and for me, formally signals the end of the marriage. Ron and I said goodbye and I drove west towards the mountains.

As I drove, I noticed a subtle change in my environment. Following several days of extremely cold weather and nasty driving conditions, the sky had finally cleared and soon after the sunset, the moon rose in all her splendour. Moving towards her fullness, she was slightly more than half, which I took to be a good omen. She watched over my journey through the evening until I came to rest in Hinton, the gateway to the Rocky Mountains. For a brief period of time, I felt Buster’s presence and several times I found myself talking to him as if he were still there. On several occasions, the pain of his death bubbled to the surface and I found myself flooded with sadness and tears. When I awoke this morning, I felt a strong feeling of emptiness but some of the sadness and grief had dissipated.

Earlier in the week, I mentioned to some of my friends that I had no idea where I would be heading on Friday night. Now I can see the next few steps, at least. First, I’m going to stop and spend a day in the healing waters of the hot springs at Jasper. And then, I’m going back to the Stein Valley for another dose of the healing power of Mother Earth. This morning, when I opened the front curtains on Buckskin, there was Raven perched on a snow bank about six feet away. I have begun to adopt a new routine when I first look out upon the new day from the sanctuary of my little cocoon, Buckskin. I look carefully to observe my first contact with the living world and automatically say, “Good morning, teacher.” I may feel emptiness but I am not alone. I may not know what will unfold even in the next few days, but I do know I am being led by trustworthy guides.

Several weeks ago, the elder who conducted the sacred sweat lodge I attended said to me, “The circle in which you are presently travelling will not be complete until you journey back to where you began.” I realize this is profound wisdom and I am certain it will travel with me for a long time. However, it is also clear to me that one stage of my J/journey is now complete. I feel very much as though I am now embarking on a new stage. One of the other elders I met a few weeks ago also shared profound wisdom with me. She said, “Kathy, you must learn to follow your heart. Listen to your head, but follow your heart.” More than anything, that is what I am trying to do at this time–to follow my heart. Since yesterday, there is room in my life for something new to emerge and grow. For now, though, I need to allow my wounded heart to heal. For now, my heart is leading me to deeply healing places–hot springs and the Stein Valley. I also hope my heart leads me to a warmer climate soon.

I want to take a moment to express my deep gratitude to all of you who have held me in your thoughts and prayers. Thank you, as well, for the many offers of beds, baths, meals, and companionship. If I have not responded personally to your emails, please forgive me as I have been quite overwhelmed. May your blessings to me return to you a hundredfold.

Buster

October 1989 to November 2002

A Tribute

“My dear little dog,” I said to Buster a couple of days ago, “How will I ever continue without you? Since Patch died, you and I have been more than dog and owner–we have been very close friends. On many occasions, I know you communicate with me telepathically. We are so closely linked. You have been such a gift to me, especially in these last few months. And boy, didn’t we have fun together! I told you when we began that you would love this new way of life. You always loved riding in the car. What you wanted most in life was to be with me and I sensed your stress whenever I left you behind. There you would sit, in my driver’s seat, watching me and waiting for me to return. Do you remember the rock glacier we climbed in the Yukon? You crazy mutt, you almost fell off the side. You scared me to death. You have always been so inquisitive. Do you remember we used to call you Houdini? You could always find a way to escape so you could get out to explore the world. Life with you, my friend, has always been an adventure. Thank you for telling me what you needed at the end of your life. Last night, I felt your energy in the van as I drove. There you were, perched on your seat, looking out the window at the passing scenery. Please go visit Wayne and tell him what you told me–that we need to learn to let go. Thank you for all you have been in my life, my dear sweetie pie. You have taught me about unconditional love, about letting go, and about the importance of exploring this incredible world. I will treasure your memory in my heart forever. Until we meet again . . .”