Story: Do Pets Go To Heaven ?
Now let me offer a
couple of small but very personal examples of how putting prayer,
dreams, OBEs and meditation together can turn judgment into
understanding, sadness into gratitude and pain into peace of mind and
joy.
Texas was born in
1985. He was a greyhound in a basset hound's body. As with all baby
bassets, his ears were as long as his body; they dragged on the floor
making it unnecessary for us to mop it. Many times during his first year
of life he tried to show us his athleticism by trying to chase us, only
to step on his ears and drop to the ground. He would see us laugh then
give us a look, the look that seemed to say, "Dude, it's not me, it's
these damn ears." Nonetheless, a few seconds after the look he would
again begin the chase.
Texas didn't turn
out to be the athlete his heart told him he could be, but he did turn
out to be a very smart dog. When we played fetch with other dogs in the
park he would almost never get to the ball first. But if the ball seemed
to be lost, he could always beat other dogs and was the first one to
find it. In Miami, we had a two-story garden. I would throw the ball
down toward the first level and the other dogs would run to that first
level and search all around the garden for the ball. But Texas seemed to
analyze the throwing motion, and he seemed to know by the movement of
the arm the specific area he should search. His dog friends would get to
the lower level first but Texas was the first to find the ball. Even in
those instances where his dog friends would find the ball first, he
would make sure to take it from them just before he turned the corner to
meet me. I would always congratulate Texas on his victory, and he would
smile and ask for another throw. He could be on the verge of a heart
attack, with what appeared to be no oxygen left in his lungs; but no
matter, he would smile and ask for another throw. On occasion, the ball
would go into the neighbor's yard. When this happened, he would
immediately find either a broom or the swimming pool stick and take it
to the spot where the ball went over the fence. Then he would bark
continuously, and I mean continuously, until I came down to retrieve it.
He saw and learned
how we slept, and he too would get up on the bed (sometimes with a
little assistance), take the covers off, snuggle in, put the covers back
on himself (up to his neck) and of course use the pillow for his head.
He was one of those dogs you could talk to and feel that he truly
understood what you were saying.
When Texas was two
years old, I went off to college, and did not see him that much for the
next five years. After college when Texas was a mature seven-year-old,
we rekindled our relationship and I took him with me to Venezuela. I
worked three years in Caracas, the capital of Venezuela. He enjoyed his
time in Caracas as we lived in a home with a large garden in the
mountains overlooking the city. In the daytime, he would hang with his
neighborhood friends but he was always there for me when I came home.
After dinner, we would hang together on the big patio couch that
overlooked the city. He liked getting on the patio couch (with a little
assistance) and on top of my stomach or right next to me as I lay there.
We would sit and talk a little, but mostly we looked down toward the
million city lights. A cool breeze usually filled the air. Sometimes we
would both be in awe as the fog rolled through the house making it seem
like we were all alone in our own little cloud.
Three more years
went by. Texas was now a little more than middle aged, at 10 years old.
I was headed back to the United States to get my MBA. Sadly, we
separated once again, and another three years passed us by with very
little interaction. During my time away he developed a close
relationship with Norma (the lady who took care of the house), and I
went on to finish my studies.
After receiving my
MBA, I returned to Caracas. Texas was now an aging 13-year-old basset
hound. Before my departure, Texas would come to the patio couch, put his
two front legs on the couch, and I would lift him up. Now, after dinner
he would still come to the patio couch to check out the city lights but
he would just look at me. With his basset hound stare, he would inform
me that two paws on the couch was simply no longer possible. Thus I
would bend to the floor and lift his now overweight body onto the couch.
Another year
passed, and Texas was now a tired 14-year-old basset. After dinner, I
would go to his couch in the corridor and sit with him. Sometimes he
would look at me as if to say he wanted me to carry him to the outside
patio couch, and so I did. I understood that his eyes did not work too
well and that now the city lights must have looked like one big blur.
But he could probably still feel the fog rolling in, and that memory
seemed to bring him peace. It would be our last year together.
By the time Texas
turned 15, he was almost blind and could not walk very well. I wanted to
put him to sleep, but over the seven years Norma had developed a very
close and loving relationship with Texas. She would stop me and cry
every time I wanted to take him to the vet, because she knew that I
thought it was time for Texas to go home, back to heaven. Texas had been
an excellent companion and a very good and patient friend. I talked to
Texas about going back home, and I felt, as I always did, that he truly
understood and agreed with what I was saying. I knew in my heart that it
was time for him to move on, and I can honestly say he felt the same
way. But it was very difficult for Norma to agree to put him down and I
was not going to do it until she said it was okay to do so.
Finally, after
crying her eyes out, Norma gave the okay. So Texas and I went off to the
veterinarian. I promised Texas that I would be the last thing he saw on
Earth. I promised him that he would be all right where he was going and
that we would never forget him. In the vet's office, we talked a little
more and I told him that he had been a very good friend, that he had
made a lot of people happy and that he should be proud of the way he
lived his life.
I lifted Texas one
more time up onto the vet's table. He seemed to understand that his
mission was now over and he gave me a very peaceful basset stare. The
vet injected Texas, and I made sure that my face was right in front of
his as he slowly closed his eyes. I tried to keep my cool in front of
him, but later broke down in the car. I also knew that Norma would be
devastated.
I got back home and
went to my room. Norma was in her room crying. I sat in my meditation
chair to breathe for a while. I prayed for Texas, prayed that he would
have a smooth transition and thanked him for being my friend. After an
hour in meditation and prayer, I went to my bed and passed out.
Just before waking,
I felt a weight on my stomach. I knew exactly who it was; I had felt
that weight on my stomach many times before. It was Texas! We then began
a "human" conversation, which went like this:
"Texas?"
"Yes."
"What are you
doing here?"
"I just wanted
to stop by and say thank you."
"Thank you?"
"Yes, thank you
for everything." (In that acknowledgement I also understood that he
was thankful I had the strength to put him to sleep.)
"You know,
Norma is in a lot of pain about your passing."
"Yes, I know."
"What should I
do?"
"Tell her to
come and visit me."
"How do I do
that?"
"You'll know."
"I love you,
Texas."
"I love you
too, James."
With those last
words, I felt his weight lifting from my stomach, and he was gone. I
woke up and wrote my experience down in my journal. I then got up from
the bed and went to work. When I got home from work, Norma was not at
the door to meet me. I understood this to mean that she was probably
still having a very difficult time with Texas' passing. I found her in
the kitchen and I could tell she had been crying. I sat her down and
told her my experience. She seemed both relieved and excited. She asked
if she too could have such an experience. I told her that I absolutely
believed it was possible for her to reconnect with Texas. She asked how,
and I offered her the following exercise, or, as I now call it,
invitation.
Invitation #10 - Reconnecting with a Loved One
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Before going to bed, sit on a chair next to or near your bed.
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Take 10 deep, slow breaths. With each intake, feel light coming in
and filling your body. With each release, feel the stresses of the
day also being released.
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Breathe normally. Concentrate on the top of your head. Fill it with
light and feel it getting heavier and more relaxed. Then do the same
with your forehead, eyebrows, cheeks and chin. Feel those parts of
your body getting heavier and more relaxed.
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Next, do the same and spend a little time with your neck, shoulders,
chest, back, stomach, thighs, calves and feet. Fill them with light
and feel them getting heavier and more relaxed.
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Say a few prayers. Any prayers are fine, especially ones that come
directly from your heart.
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Invite in your guides (you need not know who they are) or any
self-actualized being with whom you feel comfortable.
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Bring forward whatever problem it is you are worried about. Speak
from your heart. Ask for guidance in regard to the issue you are
dealing with. Be open to receiving guidance, be it through dreams,
thoughts or other means. (In this instance, I told Norma to ask to
receive peace with regard to Texas' passing, and to be open to
whatever she believed she needed to ask, however she needed to ask
for it.)
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Have faith that you have been heard and that you will receive an
experience or response with regard to your question.
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Be silent for a while. Feel the light that surrounds you. Feel the
peace and gratitude that surrounds you.
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Offer gratitude for the time you have spent in this peaceful place
with your guides and friends. Offer thanks for their assistance with
this issue.
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Slowly begin to move your hands and feet. Begin to move the rest of
your body. Open your eyes. Go to bed. Sleep.
This invitation
will work. This invitation will bring you more peace with regard to
whatever issue you bring to light. Trust, speak from the heart, listen
and be open - nothing more is asked of you. You may do this invitation
as many nights as you wish. The more you do it, the more connected you
will feel. The more you bring problems and issues to light, the easier
they will be for you to see, work on and resolve. The more you bring
problems and issues to light, the less you will worry about them during
the day and the more peace you will experience. The more you bring
problems and issues to light, the more you'll feel connected to this
light, the more gratitude will be offered and the more grateful you will
feel.
After Norma
performed the exercise, she felt much more at peace. The next morning,
she excitedly told me about an experience she had while asleep. She told
me that she knew she had an experience while asleep, and she could not
refer to it as a dream because it just seemed too real. In the middle of
the night, she felt herself being lifted. Soon she found herself in a
never-ending green field. She mentioned that it was the most beautiful
green she ever remembered seeing. In the distance, she saw something
running toward her. In a few moments, she realized that it was Texas!
Not the old Texas, that could barely walk, but a much younger and
vibrant Texas. This Texas was running like he did back in his fetching
days. Norma was so happy to see him that tears of joy started running
down her cheeks. Then, as Texas came closer, he jumped into Norma's
arms. Norma was still standing up, thus this jump must have been about
three feet off the ground. As I mentioned before, Texas had never been
much of an athlete, and this three-foot jump probably beat his best
Earth jump by about three feet! It was obvious that Texas was doing very
well. Texas and Norma rolled around the grass and played for a while.
Then a very happy Norma and a very happy Texas both said goodbye. Norma
told me the story with tears in her eyes, but they were no longer tears
of sadness and pain but tears of gratitude and joy.
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