I haven't seen the movie, "A
Dog's Purpose," but from the
trailer which has been played repeatedly on television, it appears to deal with
the reincarnation of a pet. Recently, my wife and I had some firsthand experience
with this subject. Although, in retrospect, I think I have had some experience
with this phenomenon most of my life.
Border Collies have been part of my
existence since I was six years old. Last year I wrote a column, "My Two
Wives and Me," about the somewhat complicated relationship between my
Border Collie "wife," Robbie, and my real wife, Bonnie. Robbie isn't
my first dog wife. Since I was twenty-two, I have had three. Robbie came after
Chrissy III, who came after her mother, Chrissy II.
All three were typical female Border Collies-
hard working and endlessly devoted to me, but with a hint of bossiness. Their
personalities and behavior were so alike that I often find it difficult to keep
the memories straight. So, is this reincarnation or do I just select dogs with
similar traits that I like?
A few weeks ago, the topic of reincarnation
came to light again with the introduction of a new kitten to our family. His
name is Stevie, and he sports a fine black and white tuxedo coat.
Bonnie has had a thing for black and
white cats ever since she adopted a kitten named Porky, from her first job in
Lima. He had a nice long life and lived to be eighteen. His successor, Jobey,
joined our family when he "followed" me home from a farm call nearly
seven years ago.
Jobey quickly became the animal
spark in my wife's heart. I hesitate to say she loved him more than me, but it
may be closer than I'd like to think. He was more dog-like than cat, would
greet us at the back door, and liked to sleep between our pillows at night. In
addition, he had a penchant for hogging my kitchen chair and rolling on my
day's clothes left at the end of the bed while I showered.
Sadly, Jobey died suddenly three
days before Thanksgiving , the victim of one of the cruelest of cat diseases, feline cardiomyopathy. My wife,
to say the least, was also heartbroken.
Fortunately, we have a kind and
compassionate client named Jill Smith. Jill knew of Bonnie's
loss,
and of her fondness for black and whites, and generously gave her the
aforementioned Stevie, a kitten she had raised from a wee lad.
The strangest thing happened when we
brought Stevie home. He was greeted by our other cat, Diane, who as a rule, is rather
antisocial. She walked right up to him, without a hiss, and touched her nose to
his, in a gesture I can only describe as "Welcome home" and
"Where have you been?"
That night the little rascal slept
between our pillows, although his purr wasn't nearly as loud as Jobey's. The
next morning he went right to my clothes, and did what he apparently was
compelled to do. Not kind of like Jobey, but exactly.
Last Sunday, my wife was sitting at
our kitchen table reading The Lima News. Stevie was once again sprawled out on
my chair, like his predecessor. Wanting to read the paper as well, I grabbed
the back of the chair and began to pull it away from the table. "Move
Jo..." snuck out before I could catch myself.
I looked apologetically at Bonnie
who smiled sweetly and said, "It's okay. I've done that, too."
This encounter with Stevie and
Bonnie reinforced something I have believed for a long time. We get new pets,
not to forget or replace the old ones, but to help us remember them even more.
And that is a good thing.
Of course, I'm sure most of these
goings-on with Stevie can probably be explained as some sort of crazy cat
behavior coincidence, and has nothing at all to do with reincarnation.
Probably.
One phenomenon I really do see on a
regular basis is when their pet dies, many people will swear they'll never get
another. I know the pain from a loss can be great, but please reconsider. You
may be passing up a wonderful opportunity for a visit with an old friend, even
if it is only a memory.
Dr. John H. Jones practices at Delphos Animal Hospital. He has a special fondness for "black and whites," canine and feline, too.
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