We lost our beautiful soul Nora on Tuesday

What a beautiful world we live in, that the arc of my life happened to intersect with the path of hers when I walked into SLO animal services in July 2016. When I walked up to her kennel, she leaned against the fence, looking at me with her deep, sweet eyes. She gave my hand a little lick- something she hasn’t done since. When I visited with her, she leaned against my leg while I ran my fingers through the thick fur of her neck.

I met our sweet girl at animal services in SLO when she was 11. She was found as a stray, unspayed, likely leading to the malignant mammary cancer that left a huge tumor on her chest that was removed in the first days we owned her.

She was immediately bonded to me- the same day I adopted her I took her to the vet for a check up. The vet asked “how long have you had her? She’s very attached to you.” Nora was so eager and grateful and loving toward me, undyingly loyal. She loved Eric a lot, but she was definitely my dog.

I wondered all the time about her background, where she was all those years and who her family was. She was too sweet to have been a stray all that time. But I know God saw the two of us and smiled as he knitted her sweet little heart and life path into mine.

She was a gentle, sweet dog- a little shy, sometimes nervous, but loving towards everyone. She was attentive to me, always in the same room as one of us, sleeping next to my bed every night. I always checked before I put my feet on the ground in the morning to make sure I didn’t step on her.

She had a sweet kindness about her, dark eyes that gazed with such attentiveness, eagerness to please, and love. She was a little goofy, loyal, always as close as she could get to us. Her happiness in a simple walk outside and some loving pets from me were unmatched. I learned so much about love and loyalty from her sweet little heart.

These last 2 and a half years of life have undeniably been some of my hardest. I’ve faced unknown health challenges that have shoved me to the ground and held me there. I’ve had several huge horrible losses. Through it all I know and see God is working. I’ve been torn apart, but I praise God because I know he is good and he is bringing all this together for his glory and for my good. I know it in the depths of me. But I have struggled intensely. Part of that struggle has been my deep lows into depression and anxiety. Our first year of marriage (and first year with Nora) I struggled weekly, if not daily, to feel life was worth living. I struggled to get out of bed, to get dressed, to do almost anything. My emotions laid me out with intense pain and I would have episodes where I felt out of control of my emotions completely, unable to calm down my anxiety and crying.

In those times I would sit on the ground and put my hands on Nora, intertwine my fingers in her fur, pet her, bury my face in her. Feeling her soft fur on my hands would often help pull me back to the present, helping me focus to calm down my breathing and come back to myself. When I couldn’t pull myself out of bed, she was a reason to get up- to let her out to go to the bathroom, to walk with her around the farm and let her sniff and run around. I would be forced out into the sunshine and fresh air, forced to walk a bit and enjoy sunshine. She was a reason to drive out to the beach and go for a walk, as I had her sweet little slow trot and happy panting for my company. She was encouragement when she would come to me when I was laid out on the couch, nosing me for pets and attention. Though I try, I can’t even explain with words how many ways she saved my life.

She died on Tuesday night- likely from complications related to her mammary cancer. I think the cancer had been spreading more aggressively for some weeks, and all of a sudden something happened to cause some sort of organ failure or shut down. It all happened so fast. We walked her after work, and when we got back I could tell she wasn’t feeling quite right. She started to be in a little pain, then more and more. We had a house call vet come and check her, and it was suddenly time for our sweet little soul to leave us. Nora told me right at the very beginning of the decline that it was time, I knew it was, deeply. I just wasn’t ready.

Tuesday morning we had a dusting of snow, which never happens in Chico. Everything was covered in a fine white layer of snow, and I felt the nudge of the Holy Spirit telling me- this is a fresh start, today. I make all things new- washed whiter than snow. I thought that He meant our fresh start in our new house, but now I understand. He saw Nora and me, he saw that it was time. He was telling me- I make all things new. And it’s time to redeem your sweet little dog’s broken body. I will wash the brokenness of the world away and make all things new- washed whiter than snow.

As I walk through the house this evening, I keep looking around. I know she’s gone, but at the same time I don’t. I’m grieving intensely. I keep searching around like I’ll find something she left for me, a little note, a little message that she loves me and she knows that it was time. That she is somehow still with me. And my hands ache to intertwine my fingers in her soft, thick fur.

We took her to Redding and buried her on my parent’s property. My dad went out in the night and dug Nora a grave and lined the bottom with rosemary, and we lowered her sweet body with her soft fur down. I touched thick, red fur one more time before we covered her up.

We covered the spot with stones and planted daffodils all over her grave to bloom in the spring. What a beautiful little light she was, and how she deserves to make the ground shine with yellow flowers.

As the grass grows back up around the fresh dark soil, as storms come and heat beats down, those little bulbs will sprout bright flowers again and again. I know I’ll walk out there years from now and be able to smile, seeing her looking at me and leaning in, through those little yellow flowers.

See you again soon, sweet girl. 💛