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Goodbyes Are Always Hard
early summer 2015.JPG

November 8th was one huge tower moment of my life. I am still reeling from the enormity of what I had to do.

My precious 4-legged friend Dora had had many problems over the years but we always managed to heal them with herbs, homeopathy, even by changing her diet. She never saw a vet. At times it was pretty intense but she always pulled through. I used to say she had nine lives.

Well, it turns out she didn't have a tenth one.


She started ailing a little the previous week but was still full of life and joy – as a dog should be. I didn't think it was anything to worry about. On Monday I started treating her with homeopathy. By Tuesday morning she was quite unwell, she didn't even get up to eat her apple (that she wouldn't miss for the world normally) and I started to wonder. I told her that if she still wanted to stay and had the strength to fight, I would do all I could to help her pull through. But that if she needed to go, then I would help her leave. All she had to do is let me know. Surprisingly, she perked up a lot by the evening, even barked happily when I was preparing her dinner. I went to bed feeling relieved and thinking she was so much better.

When I came downstairs the following day she was sleeping peacefully and I smiled to myself. And then I saw... and knew... She had made up her mind. It was her time to go...

I made a couple of phone calls to the vets. As we were not registered with anybody it was tricky. But one kind receptionist quickly registered us and even arranged things with the vet to squeeze us in on a busy day. All I had to do was to wait for their phone call and make the car journey.

The waiting for what I had to do was an absolute agony.


The phone call finally came and we went onto our final journey together, Dora and I. I played the song Deep Calls to Deep by Ayla Schafer – the lyrics 'I'll stand strong in my shaking' could not describe my trepidation better. I was doing the right thing – the only thing I could do in the moment, yet I was absolutely dreading it. It had been the hardest decision I have ever made. I had promised and she trusted me without a doubt.


And I was there. I was there till Dora's last swallow and last breath, her head cradled in my lap, holding her face in my hands, kneeling on the floor. I kept whispering to her how much I loved her. She had to get an extra injection because despite the right dose her heart kept on beating. I think at the very last moment she might have hesitated. Not because of her – because of me. She felt my sorrow and her only concern was for me.

I whispered to her – You are free. Go home, my love, go home. And as I watched her large black pupils they turned blue... And I knew. She left her earthly suit behind and was free again.


The gift of Dora


Dora came to me as a 4-month old baby and left at 11.5 years old. I changed her original name as I knew straight away she was a gift (Dora in Greek means gift). She was a very peculiar creature, more human than animal I often felt. She learnt a whole range of sounds to communicate and even produced a toothy smile whenever I returned home. The only thing she didn't do is talk in words. And just as well, or what with the teenagers, toddler and her, the chatter would never stop...

While she had a family around her, she was always a one person dog. She absolutely trusted me with everything and would allow only me to tend to her and treat things (like cleaning ears or taking care of a painful boil).

And she trusted me till the end to do the right thing and help her.


My 17-year old said the other day – Isn't it funny that dog is spelled God backwards?

I don't think it's a coincidence. A dog is the only animal that will show you unconditional love and trust. I believe the Source/ God/ the Divine is nothing less than pure unconditional love and trust. While living our earthly experience we often-times forget the pure LOVE we come from. Dogs can remind us of this precious love, make us experience it again.

Why do we need to go through darkness, pain, suffering, violence? Because we live in a dual world. We need to experience the polar opposite in order to find out who and what we are in our true essence. It is the ultimate human lesson. Not an easy one, no. But all the more profound.

If you ever shared your life with a dog, you got to be loved in the most perfect way possible. And that is the reason why it is so utterly devastating when we lose this unconditional love in the physical form.

We allow people to grieve for their family members and friends, but generally we expect people not to be silly and 'snap out of it' when they are grieving the loss of their dog.

Just remember, a dog spells God backwards. The physical loss of such an unconditionally loving friend is one of the most painful things in life. All the little gestures of affection and reassurance you experienced daily with all your senses are now gone.

I don't believe that the powerful love can ever be lost. Love can never be lost. Yet, all the 3D experiences are, and that is what makes it so painful for us still living in this physical world.

Lessons learnt


I have only just realised what the biggest gift of Dora's passing is. By freeing herself she gifted me with freedom. Freedom and space to pursue my passions as my toddler and I are stepping into our homeschooling journey. She somehow sensed what I wanted and needed to do and how it would be difficult with an elderly and ailing dog. So much wisdom and consideration from a loving animal. I still struggle understanding it all.


What life lessons have I learnt during my time with Dora?


*Find your joy – even in the smallest of things.

*Stay in the moment and avoid overthinking.

*Treat each day as if it was your last – live to the full.

*And finally, accept and surrender to what is.


The ultimate lesson in losing somebody is LOVE. Love in its many forms, sometimes full of joy, at other times full of pain.

We all came here to learn about love. Part of the earthly experience is also to experience physical expressions of love.

Touch is the first and last non-verbally spoken expression of love. If you can, go and run your fingers through an animal's fur. It's such a beautiful way to give and receive love.

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