The other night my dog Linus was sleeping at the foot of my bed and making soft grunting noises. To some people that would be disturbing, for me it is like sweet sounds that lull me to sleep. Linus is aging as we all do, he is almost 13 years old which is like 91 in human years. I have been coming to terms with how little time I have left with him. It‘s like every breath he takes I soak in and hold it deep in my heart with love and gratitude.

It is not only that he sleeps there each night, it is his presence and devotion to love me that is unspoken and known between us. His eyes are gentle and they have always seemed a little sad. It is also his gentleness that has helped comfort my own sadness. His giant heart has held me when mine was aching.

Since the first day I encountered dogs as a little girl, I was obsessed. I felt like they could see and understand me in ways humans just couldn’t do. Their eyes were not filtered through the lens of conditions and obligations. The main directive was presence, affection, and play. My little self knew that there was a key to this perception of life that got lost among the adults I was watching.

I saw adults say one thing and mean another. The words and actions didn’t sync up and the energy was in another time zone. I wondered why this was. I wondered why boys were told not to cry and girls were supposed to be pleasing and smile when they wanted to yell at the top of their lungs. The domestication of my wild animal was happening slowly. It was in the signals being emitted through the airwaves to conform and be something that is acceptable to others who wrote the rules. Forgo play, wonder, and simplicity for complicated nonsense.

What was dangerous about this was the betrayal of listening to my heart and what I needed. I was being trained to be obedient in a world that had a messed up version of power. Dogs are not obedient to being something they are not. They are devoted to what and who they love. They see beyond prejudice, class, color, age, orientation, and the condition to love is pure.

The purity of every animal I have ever loved and who loved me back is a gift that keeps giving through every cycle of life. I am at a chapter in my life where I have loved and lost, ached and known great joy.

Linus got out of bed and seemed to be doing well after battling illness. His body was losing, he had a seizure and his eyes signalled to me he was breaking down inside. I couldn't reach him and I did everything I could to help and hold him. I am sitting by his side and hoping he will get better, but I don't think he will. I hope I am wrong. I also know I have to accept his aging body is preparing to leave. I am not ready and I never will be. That's the hardest part about death. The loss feels like a punch to the gut and the hurt cuts deep. The salve is the love, always the love to hold me through the pain. To let him go when he is ready.

Sadness like grief comes in waves. It can feel like a tsunami that will never end. It will recede but being pummeled by the pain can be brutal. Nobody wants to be in it and yet we have to go through it like a holy rite of passage. What moves through us each time tenderizes life and our ability to love. We never think of the hurt we may feel when we play as kids. We fall off our bikes, scratch up our knees, suture up our wounds and we go out there again. Maybe the joy of playing and living outweighs the hurt of falling down.

As we get older and the falls hit harder there is a tendency to avoid things that will cause or conjure similar hurt. So we choose things that are safe and they can also keep us stuck in half-hearted living. To live wholeheartedly takes risks because you will get hurt. Everything changes, ends, and dies. Nobody knows when but it will happen.

As I sit in the void of not knowing and the patience of being with the tenderness of loss. I realize that Linus will never be able to walk up the stairs and lie next to my side. There is a moment of ache because I had no idea the night before this would be the last time. We all think we have control of things and death is a reminder, brutal and beautiful, that life is precarious and the delicate balance will be tipped.

The thing about death is it brings me into the moment, I have nowhere to run and no place to be. It is a transition that demands presence. It physically hurts and my heart cannot escape the sensations running through me, try as might. Every little worry dissolves into nothing, there is only space to be here in the unknown.

I don’t know how long my beloved dog will be like this, I do know the end is near. I am certain that the love and devotion he has given me is all I can give him back. The only way to process this loss is to be in relationship with all the fears, and feelings, and not betray the experience. Death is a great teacher of life. It holds the key to unlocking joy. Joy is much bigger than happiness. It is a container that holds every feeling as a guide to come back to love. I am sad my dog is leaving and I feel tremendous joy that I have had a lifetime with him. It is not either/or. It is both. I can hold death and life in my heart at the same time to have joy and appreciation for the journey. The key is to be present in my life with every feeling and not turn away, creating trust and undying love. I turn toward death and let it have its way with me. Then and only then will I know my way home.

When death comes knocking on my door, all the worries occupying my mind have no room. All I have room for is the moment. The grief takes over and I have nowhere to run, it will find me. All I can do is surrender and allow the pain I am feeling to have a home and be accepted. To understand the transition from one realm to the next cannot be occupied by the mind, it is felt with every fibre of my being.

Maybe this is why humans write great music and make great art when they're in pain. Our broken hearts have nowhere to be but in the moment. The acute understanding of endings that change us forever.

I will not run from my pain, I stay open to feeling the beauty of loss and love in life, all the endings that teach me to begin again. No death will not be the end, it will be the beginning of a deeper love that only this threshold can offer. It is the ritual of returning to essence, the purest form of being. It is a presence that has no beginning or end, it is the cycle of being a spirit in physical form.

Today I sit here with Linus and my greatest joy is to feed him bite-size pieces of meat, that is all he will eat. Stroking his frail body and being close to my sweet boy brings me into the presence of death and life, without fear, only wonder. The necessary ending of life is a sweet surrender to birthing new patience for how it teaches me. The books go out the window, and the self-care practices are helpful, but in the end, I must be in the simplest form of human tenderness. There is only this moment and I savour the soul that sits beside me and every snore touches my heart.

When the end is near, there is nowhere to go. It's as if time has no meaning and only living true to my heart is what matters. So much of what we seek is love, approval, and connection, and yet we do so many things that take us away from what is sitting in front of us. I wonder why? I always have. Wonder keeps me alive to the truth. Truth is the gateway to true love. This is no easy journey. Love is so commingled with distortions of control, power, greed, and anything but love. An animal will tell you the truth. A dog does not operate by these rules. Love is all they are.

Wonder is what I see when I look into a dog's eyes, a curiosity to life that humans have a hard time keeping. It's as if wonder is a lifeline to presence and the kind of love that is loyal to truth.

I have had another 6 months with my beloved boy. I carry forward his sweet snores, grunts, and an abiding love for all he has gifted me. As we go through changes in life, may the love we carry soften each season with a tender gift that warms our hearts.