Ghost Stories
Last weekend I was telling some house guests about how my golden retriever Bear woke me up at night with his booming bark several times after he died. When I was finished, the husband nodded with gentle knowing and shared his story.
The Choice: A Story About a Boy and His Dog
Today I’m sharing a story by Joseph Anthony that was inspired by my last post, Another Dog Story. Joseph dedicated his story to me, and I’m dedicating this post to my son, Matt, who raised our golden retriever, Bear, from a puppy and was his primary owner until the last two years of our beloved friend’s life. Enjoy.
Another Dog Story
As I write this I’m agonizing over something that happened earlier this evening. During the summer I live in a remote, mountainous area with curvy, dangerous roads. This evening I was headed to town to attend a lecture by an eminent theologian when I came upon a huge, black-and-white shaggy dog standing in the middle of the road looking very lost and confused.
The Hidden Lesson of Grief
I’ve been thinking about grief ever since my last post about the loss of my dog, Bear. I kept wiping away tears as I wrote it, then again when I read and responded to the kind comments I received. Where do these tears come from? Is this only about missing Bear or is something else going on?
Memorial for a Beloved Animal Friend
What is it about this place? I’ve asked myself this a hundred times. In a post from last June titled Dream Symbols of the Beloved, Part II, I wrote: “…every summer for ten years I’ve come here with my sweet friend, a handsome golden retriever whose name was Bear.
Journey to Summer Camp
Today we’re on our way back to the mountains for a cooler, kinder summer. Our car is filled with various essentials, (my clothes mostly!), and carries an equally stuffed “pod” on the roof. But this year the back seat is not occupied by Bear, my best golden retriever friend who snoozed there on our annual treks for many years, or by the hanging rod with my clothes, but, for the first time, by our two granddaughters.
Dream Symbols of the Beloved: Part II
I’m at my desk looking out an east-facing window. The morning sun enters my backyard late because it has to rise above the mountain before its rays filter down through a thick tree canopy. Most of what I see is in shade but a patch of sun has highlighted the brilliant silver threads of a spider web between two branches of a buckeye tree.
