Forever Home for Their Wandering Spirit
“Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain.” Carl Jung
What is the one thing that most made your cherished kitty most special. The one thing that set your beloved pup apart from all others?
Their color? Breed? Size of their paws? Texture of their fur? Pedigree?
PROBABLY NONE OF THE ABOVE
Physical characteristics do not an “only-ness” make. That comes from their character, their joie de vivre. That individual flair with which they lived their life, be it tail-wagging joy-jumping exuberance, ankle-flossing caterwauling devotion, feigned indifference, nose-to-the-ground doggedness, whisker-twitching curiosity, snore-y couch potato-ness—or a gazillion other possibilities.
In a word:
THE ESSENCE OF THEIR SPIRIT
Back in 2006 Russell and I promised a forever home to a bonded pair of hang-dog, traumatized Weimaraners. You could see in their bearing that they’d been caged and cowed. Their true dispositions were a mystery.
It took 2+ years for us to earn Bentley & Beemer’s unqualified trust. For their
excitably adventurous
abandonment-anxious
fiercely protective
gently loving
doggedly willful
single-mindedly loyal
spirits to fully blossom.
In December 2015, after nine years in our forever family, Bentley moved to a new forever home. A 4x6 varnished walnut box with a brass nameplate, lovingly placed on the bookshelf beside my desk.
GUTTED BY BRIEF
I would curl up with Beemer and the two of us grieved together.
Two years later, on Christmas Day, Beemer took her forever place alongside him.
Weepy and inconsolable I would sit at my desk and stare at those polished boxes, heavy with incinerated bone and fur. B&B were supposed to be “in there” … so I waited for a familiar soul-connection that never came. Of course not.
Who can feel a connection to ashes?!?
Call it California woo-woo but I sensed Bentley & Beemer’s restless little spirits—their ethereal vital spark—searching for that cozy, safe now-and-forever haven we had promised years before.
I STILL HAD WORK TO DO
I began an internet search for an appropriate spirit-home to rest beside their cremains. Something that would honor the devotion they gave until their last breath.
There’s a ton of stuff out there—on the net, in shops … but nothing felt right. Just as I had made their dinners and breakfasts—had carefully selected their toasty beds and ushered them into them every night—this last “gift” to them had to be personal.
Which meant fashioning it with my own hands.
WELL THAT'S A BIG-ASS PROBLEM!
My artistic talents/abilities would embarrass a third grader. I generally break out in hives at the mention of “arts and crafts.”
But twice I awoke envisioning a wooden box transformed to mimic the cozy cave-like space under my desk where they loved to loll. A place tucked close to me.
So, I fleshed out my vision and bought the things I needed to create such a vessel. I took my time. Was thoughtful about how to make one personal to Beemer. One distinctly Bentley. Both meaningful to me.
Inside I placed their raggedy dog collars—and other left-behind bits and bobs—to let them know
This space is for you, kids. Rest here as you wish.
That simple act of creation settled all three of us right down. Beemer and Bentley and me.
[Professional shrinks call it art therapy.]
SUGGESTION
So whether you’re into “spirit homes” … or just want a Memory Box where you can stash that frayed collar with its jangly nametags, photos, the plaster paw print, a fave slobbery/gnawed toy you can’t bear to chuck … creating a meaningful repository for your departed one’s only-ness might help soothe your heartache. And honor your angel’s devotion.
