On Wednesday, May 24, my beloved sweet boy, Buddy, passed away at our home. These last 14 years brought many lessons from this bright, beautiful, cautious, hilarious, sweet and adorable being I had the absolute privilege to share my life with. 

Buddy taught me to let go of my agenda. The day he came into my life I had a plan. I was looking for a dog that did not shed, was great with people, didn’t bark too much and would be a dog I could bring into my yoga therapy practice. He was none of those things. I didn’t get what I was looking for, but I got exactly what I needed. 

He taught me about boundaries. Buddy was clear who he wanted and did not want in his space. We called him a cat dog because he knew his boundaries and who he trusted. It took a long time to get into his heart, but once you did he was all in. 

He showed me how to be all in. Whether he was running on the beach at the ocean, eating his meals or making sure we were aware of how awful the mailperson’s daily intrusion was he played, ate, protected and lived from a stance of being fully immersed in what he was doing. 

He showed me how to be present and savor what was in front of me. I sometimes let Buddy walk me. We could learn about one leaf’s smells for minutes or zig zag through the trail rather than walking a straight line because there might be something on the other side that we couldn’t miss. In these walks I learned to slow down and look at the rocks, the veins of the leaves, the buds of the flowers and the textures of the clouds more. 

He taught me to take breaks from technology. Buddy didn’t love the phone and when he would come into my lap for a snuggle it was such a gift to take that time to scratch his belly, kiss his forehead and feel his weight and warmth against my body. He always seemed to know when we were going to take his picture and would turn away. He wasn’t interested in being photographed. He was interested in being in the moment with his people. 

He showed me the beauty, honor and privilege it is to take care of a being as they come into this world and as they leave it. We met Bud when he was 1, full of energy, spunk, sass and sweetness. As he aged we got the opportunity to learn how to take care of an aging loved one. Our walks changed, slowed down and eventually turned into a little wandering and a little lying down at the park. We went from chasing anything that moved to moving anything he might run into as he lost his sight and hearing. From training for a marathon together to snuggling under blankets more. From puking in the car due to anxiety to excitement for the car because it took us to fun places. From bruising my legs by stomping on them from excitement to get out into the woods to beds and cushions in the car for extra support for his arthritic hips. From jumping up on the bed to ramps and being carried up and down. Every iteration of his life brought joy and sweetness. 

He helped me work on my needle phobia. Bud was diagnosed with diabetes 8 months ago and I never thought I would be able to give shots. Although my amazing partner gave most of the insulin shots my love and desire to keep him as happy and healthy as possible made me face my fear to do what I needed to do for him.

He taught me clarity. The day he died it was clear that morning that it was time. As we sat together for a few hours before the vet arrived all I could say to him was, “Thank you. I love you and I’m sorry if I could have done better and I didn’t.” After 14 years of being together it all boiled down to love and gratitude. 

He showed me that grief has the most beautiful highs and lows. After Buddy died the pain seared through my body. It still comes in waves, but we are also laughing and relishing our incredible life together. His first Halloween. The time he got lost on Whidbey Island. His fear of bridges. The sound of him snoring and dreaming. His eagle sounds at the vet. Playing with his best friend, Muffet. 

Grief and love.
Loving so intensely it hurts.
Grieving so fully it transforms to beauty.
Love and grief. 

As his ashes took flight in the wind at the ocean it reminded me of a metaphor my teacher shares. We are all these unique waves in the ocean, but we come from and return to the great sea of awareness. As Buddy’s wave returned to the vast ocean I sit with grief, love and gratitude that we had this time to swim together.

May you be free Bubbaloo and unbound to anything that wants to hold you back (including me).