The room feels too quiet when the soul of a beloved animal leaves. Their collar still rests on the counter, holding the faint smell of warm fur and grass. Their favorite toy sits where it always did, but the sound of paws padding across the floor no longer follows you. The silence carries weight, pressing into the air like an invisible hand.
The sages tell us that animals do not come into our lives by accident. A dog, a cat, or a gentle creature that chooses us has been sent with purpose. They arrive as teachers cloaked in fur, their lesson written not in words but in companionship, patience, and unconditional love. Their presence urges us to open our hearts wider, to practice tenderness so that we may one day share it more deeply with the people who will walk beside us.
You may not always hear their teaching with your ears, but you feel it. A nudge of the muzzle against your palm when your spirit is low. The steady gaze of eyes that seem to read thoughts you never spoke. The rise and fall of their chest under your hand, grounding you in moments when the world felt unsteady. These are the ways they communicate soul to soul, offering guidance that no language could ever carry.
When they pass, grief blooms in sharp colors. The empty bowl, the vacant bed, the hush where once there was breath. Yet in that sorrow lies something sacred. For their work with you is complete. The sages say their next step is to ascend into the human kingdom. Their soul, having given love so purely, now rises to evolve, carrying your shared bond like a lantern into its next life.
Though your arms ache with absence, you are not truly abandoned. They may return as a guardian angel brushing against your dreams, as a friend whose laughter feels uncannily familiar, or even as what the sages call an ibor, a soul that attaches itself to yours and quietly guides your path. Their pawprints do not fade, they transform. And so you whisper a prayer, not only with words but with every beat of your heart:
Creator, I accept the passing of my beloved friend. I allow their soul to rise, to find its new place, to continue its journey. May their elevation lift me as well. With certainty I know we will be together again, in a form I may not yet recognize, but in a love that will never be broken.
In that prayer, sorrow softens. The silence becomes less empty, carrying instead a promise. The soul of your animal is not gone. It is simply walking ahead, waiting for the moment when your spirits meet once more, in this life or the next.
Stories Past Present Future 