Dog Days of Summer
Reflections on giving your heart to a dog
On the longest day of the year, Luna, our 11-year old Bernese mountain dog, passed into the spirit world. As far as these things go, it was as peaceful and beautiful as it could have been: in our home, on her bed surrounded by her humans. She was suffering—I know this now looking back on it. She had degenerative myelopathy, a sometimes slow, sometimes fast, progressive disease that causes muscle weakness, then paralysis, starting usually in the back legs. It was slow in Luna. After about a year of us knowing she had it, she could still run pretty fast through a field if we ran along-side her, holding her back end up with a harness. She still wanted to run. She still wanted to eat. She still wanted to be with us. It’s a cruel disease similar to Lou Gehrig’s: it has a genetic component, there is no cure, and at some point, there is a catastrophic tipping point that no sentient creature should have to endure.
Anyone who has loved an animal companion knows that making the decision about when it’s “time” is one of the hardest ones you will ever make.
In life, Luna was part of our family, but she was also part of an infinite, unseen world we could barely even perceive: the one where every blade of grass has a story, and every twig speaks of a previous visitor; where hundreds, if not thousands, of messages are passed in the wind. This richness was always obvious to her, and sometimes hints of these hidden layers were revealed to us, through her.
Luna was our portal to another way of seeing and experiencing the world. Luna was grounding and transcendent at the same time. Luna was pure love.
If there is a heaven, it will be winter there, at least for a good part of the year, with sparkling snow-covered fields, cerulean blue skies and bird song. Luna would love that. And, as I imagine it, she is gleefully running through the pristine snow, and when she’s not rolling on her back in the soft patches, she is taking in big mouthfuls of the stuff and smiling.
In Laurie Anderson’s 2016 feature film Heart of a Dog, inspired by the death of her blind, piano-playing terrier Lolabelle, she says, “Finally, I saw it—the connection between love and death, and that the purpose of death is the release of love.”
Rest in peace Luna Tilly Mango (March 30, 2013 – June 20, 2024). We will love you forever.
Bazougey
By Mary Oliver
Where goes he now, that dark little dog
who used to come down the road barking and shining?
He’s gone now, from the world of particulars,
the singular, the visible.
So, that deepest sting: sorrow. Still,
is he gone from us entirely, or is he
a part of that other world, everywhere?
Come with me into the woods where spring is
advancing, as it does, no matter what,
not being singular or particular, but one
of the forever gifts, and certainly visible.
See how the violets are opening, and the leaves
unfolding, the streams gleaming and the birds
singing. What does it make you think of?
His shining curls, his honest eyes, his
beautiful barking.
