Taken from the The Daily Post.
Is there a period in your own personal life that you think of as the good old days? Tell us a story about those innocent and/or exciting times (or lack thereof).
I don’t think I ever truly knew what sadness was until I was 12 years old. Before then, I often found myself so caught up in rapture that the idea that there was ever such a thing as “depression” was beyond me. Somedays, I’d feel so light that I’d find myself walking on my toes, feeling as though I’d be carried off in spirit form by the wind. In those days, I spoke to God and animals.
His name was Mido. That was the name I gave him. He was 8 weeks old when we got him. He never had a single vaccination. He was going to die. That was what the vet said. He had contracted Parvovirus and couldn’t keep anything down. It reached the point where he refused to eat. I remember it well. This little black dog with big paws that had the potential to become huge and intimidating in size one day. So much potential and yet at only 8 weeks old he was doomed to die. I wish I could say that I felt sorry. But in those days, I didn’t see death as anything special or tragic. Animals died all the time. So did people. It’s just how things were. I remember offering him dog food and watching as he’d eat two mouthfuls and then regurgitate. After a while, I stopped altogether and just sat on the stairs of our backyard and observed.
He ate grass. I wish I knew the name of that plant that he continued to consume. Because for 3 days that was all he ate. He’d go into our backyard, eat the grass and drink water. That was it! I just kept watching him. Something inside me told me to give him something to eat. so I grabbed his bowl and filled it with dog food. He refused it. Then, something inside of me told me give him food from our kitchen. I ran upstairs, and brought down a bowl with fresh rice and chicken. He ate. He didn’t regurgitate. And after he finished eating, he went back to the yard and had some more grass and drank more water. This went on for 3 more days. Somehow, we started to communicate.
It reached a point where he no longer would eat anything remotely related to “dog food”. In fact, I think for a few moments he forgot he was a dog and thought himself human. Many times he wouldn’t eat unless his food was warmed up and freshly made! It had to be fresh rice and meat. Nothing that sat around for longer than an hour. Not unless it was warmed. He started insisting on fresh water only as well. He beat Parvo. He was smart! And he’d follow me around everywhere that I went. Whenever it rained, he’d knock on our glass door, crying and howling, insisting to come inside. If I went upstairs, he’d follow me into the rain and then knock on the door there.
I remember him well. This was before “The Fall”. When I started seeing sameness in all things but feeling disconnected from everything. This was before I was taught that animals couldn’t talk (but they can) or that they didn’t communicate empathetically or telepathically with humans. This was before I felt the need to seek out Spirit, when He is there at all times, all around and always connected. But those were my good ol’ days.
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