*Since I started working on this article, our goofy goldendoodle Bella passed to the spirit world. I made some changes to reflect the truth of that, but her lessons live on, and I hope these reflections bring some joy and humor to your day.
Little chicken
We adopted Bella when she was six months old. We were warned that she did not get enough nutrients in the womb and that her coat would likely not come in. “She’s like a bald little chick,” they said. She also had a “strange gait” and could not walk up and down stairs for the first few years of her life.
We later discovered that she was unaware of her ability to bark and was silent till around the age of three. When she did bark, it seemed to take enormous effort and working up to it.
Over the years, Bella learned all her needed skills and grew a beautiful coat. She remained the most gentle soul you can imagine, with miraculous patience. She liked peanut butter sandwiches, lying in the sun, and forcibly hugging strangers.
Some might say she was a 50-pound lapdog, but that doesn't cover it. Her idea of snuggling was to cover your entire body with her body and be as close as possible.
She had a beautiful life but was not without heartbreak beyond her neurological challenges. She survived two dog attacks, one brutal attack by a German Shepard. She also needed several major surgeries throughout her life. None of this changed her love of the vet (or going anywhere with people). She marched in with her tail wagging, ready to soak up attention and hug every person she came in contact with.
The same week I met my wife, Rachel, we lost our older dog Teddy to cancer. Teddy and Bella had been inseparable, and this loss was particularly hard for her.
When I say inseparable, I mean Bella followed Teddy everywhere, attempting to cover his body with hers.
After he passed, I tried many things to cheer her up—trips to the pet store, walks, and treats. What ultimately helped her heal was Rachel. When my wife and I moved in together several months after Teddy passed, she began to fill the hole in Bellas's heart.
Rachel set up shop to work from home, and Bella found a spot nearby. She moved closer and closer, and after a few days, we began to joke that Rachel was the “new blonde thing” that Bella snuggled with. Each morning for the last few years, Bella would report for duty in the usual spot.
I’m so grateful that Bella had that “job” for the last few years of her life. There was nothing she wanted more than someone to be close to her at all hours of the day. I can imagine she wasn’t the easier coworker for Rachel to deal with, demanding to be taken out during important phone calls.
I’ve also been reflecting (with Bella’s help) on the fact that it wasn’t effortless for the Rachel over the last few years to acclimate to a new home, new relationship, and two teenage stepsons. Bella helped make our house Rachel’s home and gave her a sense of purpose and responsibility. Whereas a teenager might resist you—Bella was constantly in need of something.
Dogs seem to enter and leave our lives in sacred timing. They teach us about the power of love and other lessons unique to their journey. Bella taught us an enormous amount in her ten years.
Here are some of the more lighthearted lessons:
1. Eyes are not just for looking.
Sure, seeing is great but have you tried hiding in the corner of the room and staring at someone intently until they become aware of your presence?
We call this “two-eyesing” (rhymes with two eyes sing). This is when Bella’s eyes do all the talking, and we scurry about to try and find out what it is that she desperately needs. Her eyes appear black and bottomless, always accompanied by a feeling of desperation.
We’ve discovered that intent staring (or two-eyesing) can mean the following:
I want you to acknowledge my presence
I love you
Something smells delicious, and I’m intensely curious about it
You should share your food with me
I love you so much
I am telepathically telling Mom about you for not sharing your food with me.
I want to be closer to you
Even closer, please
Did I mention I love you?
2. In the face of a challenge, abandon all shame.
Maybe the most glorious thing about dogs is that they love unconditionally. This love translates to themselves. They don’t only love their people. They love and care for themselves unconditionally and without shame. Specifically, Bella had zero shame about any of the accommodations she needed in life. Suitcase-like contraptions to help her on steps or special boots to help her walk, she waited to be lifted or carried when needed.
Most recently, it was diapers after becoming a bit leaky in her older age. She would wait patiently while each of her people took turns learning how to attach an extra large dog diaper around her barrel-shaped body.
All the better to sit on your couch with my dears.
I started by praising her when she was dry, and I noticed she ignored my praise. “I can’t help it either way,” was the feeling she gave me. So, I stopped mentioning it and offered her a peanut butter sandwich cookie after each diapering, which she accepted.
3. The right pair of shoes can change your life.
Bella had poor coordination and difficulty walking, especially on the wood floors and stairs. She also seems to have a neurological issue that made planning her steps tricky. All of that, combined with her very dry paws, or “slippy paws,” as we affectionately call them, made walking difficult. The last winter of her life, we discovered boots. The joy she experienced when she realized she could run outside on the icy street was infectious. She galloped to her heart’s content.
4. Let people wait for you.
Bella was the queen of taking her time.
“She’s the mascot I need right now,” a friend messaged me after seeing Bella’s daily walk downstairs. She would take her time—to the point that it was comedic. Instead of getting frustrated with her, I started filming her and sharing it. Taking care with each step, lining them up, and pausing for breaks, she slowly made her way. She was a true example of the care and gentleness we should all approach any difficult task.
5. Offer hugs to those in need.
Bella loved with her entire body. When Bella started to perk up after Teddys passing, we began taking her on long walks in the center of town. She has always been a slow and somewhat awkward walker, but she brought so much enthusiasm to these new walks.
She loved the people.
When someone would walk by her and not acknowledge her, she would slow down, dig her heels in, and make it awkward.
She was a hugger. She would go up to anyone who would allow it and push her skull into their thigh, making complete contact with her chest and legs. At first, people would seem surprised, and then I’d say, “She’s a hugger,” and it seemed to make sense to them. Sometimes people would scratch her head or pat her, but she wanted to hug them most.
In the last week since she’s passed, I’ve felt Bella’s loving spirit wafting through my home like the smell of bread baking. Sometimes when it hits me, I fall apart, and sometimes I smile and laugh. Why does it take losing someone to open our eyes to all the ways we loved them? It seems to be the nature of life that we take things for granted, even when we love openly. In our humanness, we relax and think it will be forever. In my heart, I know it is, although it’s changed from the physical to the spiritual.
Sending you big warm golden hugs.
Thanks for being here 💖
Sheryl
P.S. I’ll be at Women of Wisdom this Saturday night (May 13th) for an evening of spirit messages with Psychic Niquel. Call 508-230-3680 to reserve your space.
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I’m in tears. She’s a hugger 😭😭😭😭💗 you’re my inspiration Bella. Thank you for sharing her story with us, dearest Sheryl 🥺✨