An Angel Animal's Dream

Two years before we moved to Minnesota, we visited a family who had a litter of golden retriever pups. Our children were nearing their teenage years, my wife, Linda, and I both had stressful jobs, and we were looking for an addition to our family who would bring more unconditional love into our home.

All of the puppies were so cute that we couldn’t decide which one to choose. Linda playfully told the group of puppies, “One of you is going to have to choose us.” Without hesitation, one of the pups came to me and untied my shoestrings. So we asked the pup if she wanted to go home with us. She responded by following us as we walked away, leaving her littermates behind.

We asked this puppy what she wanted to be called. Immediately, the unusual name Prana came to Linda’s mind. Later we looked up the meaning of this word and found that its definition was “breath of life.” And that is what this little puppy became for our family. She taught us all how to relax, love, and breathe in the fullness of life.

A few years after Prana adopted us, we moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota. Part of my job there was keeping a beautiful temple open after regular office hours for visitors and social events. The building was situated in the middle of a rolling prairie. I’d take Prana to work with me each evening. With all her heart, she loved this place and seemed to sense its sacredness. When there was no chance of her bothering visitors, I’d take her off the leash so she could run with her ears flapping in the wind through the grassy, rolling prairie hills.

One weekend Linda and I discussed our observations that Prana wasn’t looking as healthy as she’d always been. We had both noticed that Prana was sleeping more and had less energy. We took her to the vet, and when he X-rayed her, he found an obstruction that could be cancerous. Prana would need to have an operation.

With her surgery looming the next day, I took Prana to the temple grounds that she most loved to visit. I parked the car and let her out. She was as excited with anticipation as usual, but this night it broke my heart to watch her jump out of the car, hit the pavement, and squeal in pain. Prana looked at me, then she tried to run. She could only go a short distance into the prairie. Soon she walked back to me with her head lowered. I bent down, hugged her, and cried. Quietly, I stood near her as she looked around and said good-bye to her special place.

I helped her get into the front seat of the car and we drove away. On every other trip to the temple, Prana had always looked back at the prairie as we left it. This time, though, she looked straight ahead. There was nothing either one of us could do to change the fact that this would probably be her last visit.

The next day, while Prana lay motionless on the operating table, the vet called us with devastating news. Prana had advanced cancer. It was so invasive that the best choice would be for her not to be awakened.

Continued on page 2: We weren't the only ones who suffered from losing Prana... »