My wonderful and faithful dog Miracle made her transition this last Wednesday.

Miracle had lost her hearing several months ago. I asked myself if it bothered her that she couldn’t hear any longer.

Tisha, my very in tune daughter in love, had some time alone with Miracle. I knew that Tisha sensed that Miracle wouldn’t be with us much longer, but in her wisdom, she didn’t mention it to me until much later.

What I observed during the months that followed answered my question. I watched her lose her zest for life. I sensed that she felt as though her purpose as a protector had diminished. I watched as she grew tired earlier and earlier during our walks. Then on October 27, Miracle was given a terminal diagnosis.

I know that we are Spirit and beyond diagnoses and prognoses. I have known people who have made a decision to live after receiving a “terminal” diagnosis. Multiple times I have witnessed the correlation between a person’s or a pet’s will to live and the state of their health.

I also believe in the eternity of all life.

I sat with Miracle on the floor and told her that if she wanted to live, she was going to have to live up to her name and pull off a Miracle. She continued to dwindle and lose her hold on life. I sensed that she was torn between staying with me and coming back and getting to be a puppy again.

I was determined to let her go if that was what she wanted to do. Many times I held her and thanked her for all that she had brought to me and to my clients who loved her dearly. I told her over and over that it was okay to go, and that while I would grieve and miss her, I was willing to let her go. Something that my son Sunny said really helped me with this readiness. Sunny asked me if I could let her go so that some other “old soul dog” could come and share some good times with me. Sunny, too, knew she would be leaving. Sunny commented that at a time like this, my spiritual beliefs would be challenged. He was correct.

The last month of her life became very stressful for me because her appetite changed and what she would eat varied from day to day. For a mom type person, not being able to get my dog to eat was upsetting. I knew what it meant. She was preparing to leave.

I was in a lot of fear that it would be her time to go, and would need help doing so, and I wouldn’t get it. While I teach and totally know that saying “I don’t know” closes the door to the answer, I kept saying “What if I don’t know?” It was a huge issue for me accompanied by many tears. I wanted to do it right for her; I wanted to be spiritually in tune. But I didn’t feel in tune. I didn’t trust myself with this important decision. I wanted to do it right by my precious Miracle.

Saturday night before she transitioned, she had become so weak that she fell on my kitchen floor and couldn’t get up. She lay there with legs spread, whimpering, and unable to get herself up. The whimpering told me that she needed help. I held her and asked her to please go without my having to make the call to euthanize her. I lay blankets all over the hardwood floors to help her have some traction so it wouldn’t happen again.

I called the vet on Monday morning. Miracle was better that day and I told the vet, “Today is not the day.” I emailed my Native American friend Cherri and asked her if she could be with Miracle at noon on Wednesday. She agreed. How did I know that?? I suspect that, while I kept being afraid that I wouldn’t know, I kept affirming that I WOULD know. I affirmed that I would know what was best. I affirmed that I would know when it was time.

Still, I kept being in fear and angst about “What if I don’t know.”

On Tuesday evening, Miracle let herself outside and didn’t have the strength to get back inside. I let her in and she was so cold, and didn’t warm up as she normally would. I covered her with heavy towels. I knew Miracle’s hold on life was very thin, and that her circulation was shutting down.

The greatest blessing she gave me that night was creating space for me to hold her and say my farewell. I realized that all through that time, I had told her it was okay to go but I hadn’t told her goodbye. I did so that night and it felt awful. It felt horrible. I hate goodbyes. Goodbyes have been a huge trauma for me in my life and here it was again. It dawned on me that it wasn’t really goodbye, because at some time we will see each other again in this life or another. I changed it to “See you later” and I felt peace.

I told her to be sure and pick a family next time who would be good to her and love her as much as I did.

The next morning, I awakened, and heard the words of my guidance, “It’s time.” Then I heard her crying at the back door to come in. Again, she was too weak to come in on her own. I listened to my guidance, and made arrangements for the vet, Cherri, and my son Christian to be here.

Miracle came in to greet and share love with my clients all that morning. The clients were all so in tune that they knew she was leaving though I said nothing. Miracle’s last act of service was sharing love with a client who had been horribly abused in his childhood who is struggling to get his heart back. I took pictures. Miracle only had a few minutes left on this earth and one more time, she was helping someone get their heart back.

Miracle’s passing was peaceful and she was surrounded with so much love, prayers and Native American blessings.

That afternoon, I was in session with clients and I felt her spirit so strongly. There will always be a connection of love.

I am so thankful that she helped me get yet another part of my heart back. It really IS okay to say goodbye because all goodbyes are really “see you later.” And perhaps, since Miracle had been an abandoned dog, we all, through loving her, helped Miracle get her heart back as well.

Thank you Miracle!! Thank you!!