“Love is the only force in the universe that can heal everything.” — Motah, 7/29/13
Passing of Cheyenne
August 9, 2013
With deep sadness of heart, I must inform you that my beloved dog, Cheyenne, had to be put to sleep this afternoon. She was 14½ years old; about 100 in human years.
Over the past few weeks, she had developed a very noticeable bony protrusion over her left hip. I thought it might be associated with hip dysplasia or arthritic inflammation. It didn’t seem to bother her. But last weekend, for a couple of days, she began to favor her left rear leg. She got over that and all this week had been walking fine, including yesterday when I took her out for a couple of gentle strolls.
Also, increasingly this week her appetite lessened. By last night, she ate very sparingly. Otherwise, she seemed fine. She was clear and alert, her usual contented self.
Suddenly, this morning she could not put weight on that rear leg and barely could hobble around. She was in obvious pain. I called the vet. Robert, MariLyn and I took her there this afternoon.
Dr. Mike, who has treated her since she was a puppy, quickly diagnosed that she had aggressive bone cancer in her hip; it was solid, hard, about the size of one’s fist. The cancer was terminal and would spread rapidly. Quite likely, she would not last but a few weeks at the most. She would slide downhill very quickly. She would suffer.
He left the decision to me, of course, but I knew there was no other recourse. For her highest good, she would have to be put to sleep. She was clearly debilitated. I could not let her suffer any longer. It was time to let her go. Robert and MariLyn agreed.
Before Dr. Mike euthanized her, I held her, petted her, looked directly into her eyes, touched my nose to hers, smelled one last time the ever-so-sweet scent on her cheek, kissed her, and said my tearful good-bye. “I love you, Cheyenne. You’ve been such a blessing to me all these years. You’re the best doggy in the whole world. God bless you, Cheyenne. Come see me in my dreams. I will love you always. Now go to Yolanda. She’ll take care of you.”
All the while, Cheyenne was completely calm, lying quietly on the table without any agitation. She knew what was happening. She trusted me completely. She accepted that it was her time to go.
I nodded to Dr. Mike, and he injected her. It was about 3:00 o’clock. I stroked her head gently. Within about ten seconds, her eyes became vacant and she slipped into unconsciousness. Her heart stopped a minute or so later. She was gone.
We brought her body home and dug her grave on the side of the lawn, halfway between the house and her beloved creek. She rests peacefully now with the angels.
May God always bless her beautiful doggy spirit. Cheyenne taught me unconditional love. Each moment with her was precious to me, a godsend. My divine solace is that our bond of love is eternal, limitless throughout the universe.
Cheyenne had a great, full life here at I Am Nation headquarters. She was a happy animal, free to romp around the hills and wade the streams. She was a good guard dog, always quick to alert me to anyone’s arrival on the property.
An integral part of our spiritual life, she joined our Hierarchal Board meditation each and every week. Typically, she fell asleep right after we finished saying the Lord’s Prayer, and she would lie quietly till we came out of meditation. She was my faithful “space dog,” present at every single one of my hieronic contacts and channeling sessions.
I will miss her beyond measure.
Thank you, each one, for your healing prayers, both for her swift adjustment on the other side and for ours here on Earth.
Cheyenne Stands Guard
August 10, 2013
Overnight, I had only four hours of sleep, total. I had lain awake for several hours, praying, crying, asking Spirit and the Hierarchy to take care of Cheyenne and to help me in my terrible grief. My heart ached so completely that I felt as if it literally had been ripped from my chest.
After two hours of sleep, I awoke at 5:15 a.m. Lying still in the darkness, I had a quick but clear vision: Cheyenne, a lone sentinel, stood on the high mountain ridge to the west, silhouetted by the twilight, looking at me from the distance. Silently she stood guard.
Many years ago, when Cheyenne was still very young, a friend passed this listing on to me. It is a beautiful expression of truth. The author is unknown.
Things We Can Learn from a Dog
Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.
Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.
When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
Let others know when they’ve invaded your territory.
Take naps and stretch before rising.
Run, romp and play daily.
Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Stop when you’ve had enough.
Never pretend to be something you’re not.
If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.
Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.
On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.
When you’re happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
No matter how often you’re scolded, don’t buy into the guilt thing and pout … run right back and make friends.
Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.
And here is an exquisite poem, author unknown, that another friend sent me this morning.
We Have a Secret
We have a secret, you and I
That no one else shall know,
For who but I can see you lie
Each night in fire glow?
And who but I can reach my hand
Before we go to bed
And feel the living warmth of you
And touch your silken head?
And only I walk woodland paths
And see you ahead of me,
Your small frame racing with the wind
So young again and free.
And only I can see you swim
In every brook I pass
And when I call, no one but I
Can see the bending grass.
Photos: (1) Cheyenne, 2007. (2) Cheyenne, 2003. (3) Phillel and Cheyenne, 2000. (4) Cheyenne with Angel, collage courtesy of by Hartmut Jager. (5) Phillel and Cheyenne, 2002. (6) Cheyenne, 2004. (7) Cheyenne and her favorite rag “monkey,” 2003. All photos property of Mark-Age Archives.