I’ve gotten a lot of inquiries this week about pets, the afterlife, and validation signs. Of course, as a medium, I believe that pets have souls and can send signs from the afterlife just like humans. Sometimes we need to hear true stories to remind us that everything is possible including the compassion of our pets in the afterlife.
Our first pet was a crazy chocolate Labrador Retriever named Timber. With a boxy head and amber puppy eyes that dropped when he grew tired, he melted my heart the moment I met him. His penchant for baked goods included all homemade cakes and cookies and a special fondness for Dunkin Donuts. I think he recognized the box or perhaps the smell. Whenever someone brought a box of those sugary treats into our home, he stalked them like a shark tracing a chum slick. He always managed to steal one or two even though it meant he’d be banished to the backyard for an hour or so–a small price to pay for such a rare delicacy to the canine palate.
I wish I could say he was a good boy, but he was actually the antithesis. He chewed a kitchen set and many other things in his puppy hood. He improved slightly as he matured but always managed to do “bad boy” things like stick his head in the kitchen trash can and steal food. Though he ate all the candy canes and chewed at least four Christmas tree ornaments each year, we loved him for being Timber–our unique dog that would sleep in the tub during thunderstorms.
At the young age of eleven, he developed an aggressive form of facial cancer. I immediately began looking for natural ways to help him. I found a holistic veterinarian that treated him with herbs rather than chemotherapy and radiation. At the time, I was studying my Reiki Master level certification. I gave him everyday and he seemed happy and comfortable, yet his cancer grew. I continued my quest of alternative therapies for him including aromatherapy, diet changes, and lymphatic massage. I realized that Timber’s cancer had an important effect on me; it spurred my development as a healer. I recognized that our relationship was much more than a pet and owner; there was a spiritual connection between us.
The day Timber died, we drove him to the veterinarian, knowing that he wouldn’t be coming home with us. My heart ached, as I called to my deceased maternal grandmother to help him cross. As he inhaled his last breath, I saw her standing across from me and I knew he was in good hands. During the tearful drive home from the veterinarian that night, I sent him a mental message to give me a sign when he crossed. I asked for a blue butterfly. Later that same night, I woke and glanced in the hallway to find him standing there. His coat glistened brilliantly and his tail wagged happily from left to right. I felt tears on my face but perhaps they were tears of joy knowing he was okay. When I wiped my tears he vanished from my sight.
The following morning, we took our son and other two Labradors to the cranberry bog for our Saturday morning walk. I missed Timber’s mischievous energy. Though the brisk morning air bit at our skin as usual and the hawks routinely weaved and out of the trees, the walk felt foreign without my husband, Shane, chasing Timber out of the bog . My eyes watered when we crossed the bridge over the tea-colored creek. Timber loved swimming in it and I missed watching him thrashing about in the cedar water. Just then the most stunning bright blue butterfly fluttered around my face for a few moments, as my husband and I gazed in amazement. I’ve never seen another blue butterfly. I accepted this as a special gift of validation from Timber and sent him thoughts of gratitude not only for the sign but also for sharing a remarkable part of my life.
The souls of our pets live on in the afterlife. They’re able to send us signs, symbols, and visit us in dreams just like any other spirit. They remain connected to us and know when we need. Like all our loved ones in spirit form, they are only a thought away from us.
Love and light,