Ode to Demi Goddess
Love and loss of my doggie companion
The moment I saw the text I knew something was wrong.
Hi can you give me a call
It was day 31 of my 60 day book tour, and Franklin was driving me and Aenea (my home on wheels) towards New Mexico from our last stop in Chicago. I would drop him off at the Albuquerque airport then continue towards Sedona to teach a three-day workshop with my friend Sarah Marshank.
I didn't know what was wrong, but it was worse than I could even imagine.
Ernesto, who works up on our community land in New Mexico cutting lumber and milling trees, rarely texts me when I was traveling. So when I called him I wondered what was wrong.
“Something terrible happened,” Ernesto said, with a catch in his voice.
I took a breath and opened to the news.
Which was this: There was a freak accident, and my beautiful companion, beloved dog and joy of my heart Demi Goddess had died in Ernesto's arms.
There was a slow roar in my ears, and I felt the ocean of my heart surging. As the news coursed through me I felt the sweet wave of Demi ebbing, dissolving out of form, never to be cuddled or laughed with or delighted by again in the physical realm.
Tears of grief were rising into the space that Demi once occupied.
“I wasn’t sure what you would want: Do you want me to cremate or bury her?” Ernesto asked me.
“Please bury her, so I can visit her,” I responded. “Can you bury her someplace beautiful down by the creek?”
The news hasn’t seemed real since I’ve been on the road; today is my first day back in New Mexico. Tomorrow I’ll go up to the land and she won’t be there. There is a space in my being where she once joyfully filled.
After I dropped Franklin off and continued the drive to Sedona, I cried and thought: “I’ll never have another dog like her.” I had spent so much time when she was young helping her grow from a timid, people-shy pup to a courageous, trusting, ecstatic dog.
She was the perfect companion: she loved running joyfully out on the land but she alway came when I called her. I loved the weight of her against my leg at night, the soft flow of her obsidian fur, the baby fine white hair on her belly.
She would happily bounce between her many homes: with her border collie nephew Jefe and human auntie Gini (who originally convinced me to bring Demi into the family), with me or Franklin or my goddaughter Rowan when I was in New Mexico, and with her best human friend Ernesto, his family, and dog friend Corazon when I was out of town.
She was wicked smart: a lover of frisbee, a protector, a playmate. Ernesto told me that he was training Demi to go fetch help if anything happened to him while he was cutting trees up on the land. I was planning to train her to help find people who got lost while hiking.
The day I learned of her death I stopped to sleep at a campground in Gallup, New Mexico, still feeling that shocked and lost sinking of sudden loss. Weirdly, my grief was interrupted by one of the most bizarre experiences I’ve had in a very long time. I’ll share that story next week.
In the quiet hours of the next morning, Demi Goddess visited me.
I was still reeling from the news, feeling the gaping tear in my life and thinking to myself: I’ll never have another dog like her. There will never be another companion so sweet, well-behaved, funny, and perfect for me.
I was checking the truck and trailer before I pulled out when I looked up to see a white dog walking silently towards me.
The dog stood in front of me, looked me in the eye for a long minute, and then leaned her body leaned against my legs.
As I ran my hands along her head and back, the white dog looked into my eye again, doggy smiling up at me, and I heard the words:
There are many more dogs you will love, and who will love you. I’m in your heart now. The love goes on in many forms.
And I felt Demi Goddess curl up in my chest, a circle of love deep within.
The white dog brushed my hand with its nose in a silent farewell and walked away.
Nothing else stirred in the campground. I was alone. But not alone.
I spoke out loud into the stillness:
Thank you.
I understood: grieve and love. Love and grieve. There will be more love, and more grief. Be part of the circle, let it flow. Loss and delight. Grief and joy. Play and pain. Heartbreak and miracles. Possibility and endings.
Goodbye, my beautiful Demi Goddess. I will miss you terribly. And I am so grateful for the precious time we had together, and for how you are now curled in the curve of my heart.
Demi is still with you and will be for at least three years. A holistic vet told me that it takes three years for a pet to completely bond with its owner and for three years after its death, the pet will watch over its owner. What is remembered lives. I am so sorry you have to experience this pain.
❤️