The definition of bodhi as defined by Webster’s Dictionary is “enlightenment or awakening achieved by a Buddha.” As I look across the room at this dog I have known as Bodhi, I can think of no better definition of my experience with him.
Bodhi came into my life like a summer storm on a hot dry day. As a self-confessed cat person, I was perplexed by his doggie ways; his wobble-walk and clumsy run, his chirp-like bark, and his skipping alongside the bunnies seemed strange. Yet after watching him more closely, these didn’t seem like typical dog behaviors. He didn’t seem to fit the “dog” model in my head at all, especially during his bucking-bronco routine, when he’d jump sideways and kick while spinning in circles.
As a puppy, Bodhi would flop along behind his big sister Reina, happy to stop and eat dandelions, rolling his belly up to the sun while she chased bunnies, deer, coyotes, and anything that moved. During catch, his sister would race furiously after the ball and sprint back with it in her teeth. Bodhi would trot along behind her, disinterested in the circles she seemed to be running. When it was time to go bye-bye she would do a flying-leap into the backseat, and he would stand at the truck door with one paw up and look back at me as if to say, “Can I get a lift here?”
When we suddenly lost Reina due to a spontaneous auto-immune disorder we were all lost, especially Bodhi. He laid around for days, heavy and tired. His bronco-buck lost its spring, and he gave me an empty look when I tossed his ball. I took to running around their loop outside and chasing bunnies in a weak attempt to encourage him. He would wobble behind me, often it seemed to please me more than himself. I’d roll on my back next to him and put my “paws up” to play, he’d give me a disinterested half-smile and roll over too. Soon I realized he was just as happy to sit by me on the front porch and sniff at the wind, and I was relieved.
Before leaving for my extended-stay in India, we carefully chose some friends for Bodhi to stay with. They had a dog too, and I thought that was probably the best for him to have someone to play with, along with a loving family to attend to. I held him on my lap in the front seat of the car to drop him off, and wept openly. “I’m not even a dog-person!” I lamented as he gently licked my hand.
His first “episode” occurred at the groomers when he was having his hair dried. They said it was a seizure, and he’d need to be medicated. We hesitated, and instead took him to several specialists, had numerous blood tests, doggie massage, orthobionics, got second opinions, third and fourths.
Bodhi had always had unique behaviors. From the time he was a puppy he’d shake when he got excited. His eyes were often red and “itchy.” He’d run into things and often trip down the steps. I attributed it to his sweet personality, and gave it little thought. Yet, as a few tender year passed, these endearing qualities seem to get in his way more and more.
Now after his fourth “episode,” Bodhi has made it clear that his little form doesn’t fit. During his last three seizures, I held him gently and soothed his violent convulsions with my softest sounds, chanting and praying until his body stopped trembling.
As we prepare for Bodhi’s exit tomorrow, I find waves of gratitude and understanding in this ocean of tears. I’m reminded that all matter must return to its source; that what can die, will die.
This manifest world is so lovely, and it can be lived and loved and played. But it cannot be clung to or stopped; change is its very nature, and any attachment ensures suffering. It seems strange to look at Bodhi asleep on the floor beside me, and know that tomorrow his form will end; but I know this is true of everything I see with these two eyes. His body can no longer contain the spirit of freedom within it. When the form no longer follows function, its purpose is finished.
As I look at him again, through the true eye, I see light that has no beginning and no end. In this openness, I understand the energy called “Bodhi” is pure divine life force lending itself to his dog body, as to all of manifestation. Energy is borrowed to animate form; as the form relinquishes itself back to the earth, the essence within it returns to an everlasting source. Suddenly, in my mind’s eye, I see Bodhi like a beautiful sand mandala a moment before it’s poured into the sea.
As time turns and winter takes hold, I am reminded to greet the season of death; both within my own home and in the rhythm of all life. To witness the passing of all things with non-attachment and non-aversion, I allow the entirety of this experience to burn to completion. My tears are a flood, for a dog, yes, but also for the opportunity to witness such devotion, love, loyalty, and kindness in form.
It is winter, and this may be called death; yet, the true season of awakening is a perennial invitation to see God in all things, and all things in God. So when I rise tomorrow morning, if I stumble on my way, I will remember “enlightenment or awakening achieved by a Buddha” is a living truth with nowhere to go but now here.
