[Trigger alert: detailed information about death, dying, emotions, grief]
Ralph was my first dog ever. I’ve had many different types of pets growing up as a kid (somehow my mom allowed us to have hamsters, goldfish, a parakeet, a chicken, and a rabbit… not all at the same time!), so I distinctly remember the feeling of really, REALLY wanting a dog when I had my own apartment with my husband, Rob.
It was 2012 and I had just graduated from MIT with a Master’s degree in urban planning. I had never felt this urge before to get a dog. I watched YouTube videos of dogs, looked up different dog breeds that I liked, and obsessed over having one.
I came across Badass Rescue, based in Brooklyn. They rescued dogs from high kill-shelters in the South of the U.S. and brought them up to be fostered and adopted by people in NYC. I followed their story and felt for the dogs that were rescued, and the dogs that were not.
We had put in an application for another dog that looked like a corgi mix since we had an apartment, and we preferred a smaller dog. Another family had already adopted him, and not long afterwards, we got word that our application for Ralph (he was called Ralph Fiennes by the rescue, after the actor who played Lord Voldemort in the Harry Potter series; not knowing his name was pronounced “Rafe", we called him Ralph and it stuck).
In fact, I felt like I had manifested him. I had already been well-versed in the Law of Attraction and how our thoughts and feelings create our reality. I really wanted a dog that was relatively independent and didn’t slobber, like a cat — friendly, but not the kind to jump on people to lick their face, independent, and capable of just sitting next to you. The perfect dog for an introvert like me. :)
I also met some dogs during my travels to Hong Kong and Japan, and the ones that imprinted themselves in my memory had this beautiful red, brown color and the softest fur. They stood next to me or were content to get belly rubs for hours. I kept these dogs in my heart as I asked for the perfect dog for us.
When we brought Ralph home, I sat holding him in the passenger seat of the car. He was shivering the whole time, obviously nervous and scared with what was happening. He came from rural North Carolina and was around 1.5 years ago. He had a kink in his tail, like someone had stepped on his tail when he was young, and later, it turned out he hated bikes, so we always thought his tail got run over by a bicycle.
His papers said he was a feist, which meant he loved hunting, but we thought he was a corgi, beagle, Jack Russell terrier mix because we could see each of those breeds in his face, elongated body, and intelligence. He had a mischievous streak and had bundles of energy.
We got him at the height of spring. We lived in Queens at the time, and he would lie in beds of cherry blossoms during our walks, rolling around his back and grunting in pleasure. He loved exploring and meeting other dogs. The first time we brought him to a dog park, he zoomed around and around, and was easily the fastest and most nimble dog there. We felt so proud as dog parents, like his aptitude somehow came from our own genes. A little girl even commented on his unique appearance, asking her mom why we brought a fox into the dog park.
I trained him to do all sorts of tricks, including shaking our hands with his paws, waiting until our command to get a treat that we placed on his paw, sit, lie down, and stand up. He also loved running off-leash in the dog park or in the woods when no one else was around. He would point when he saw squirrels and could never really be trusted off-leash, but he learned to (sometimes) listen to “edge” when he reached a boundary and we wanted him to run back to us.
My favorite times were when I walked him for hours on the weekends, meandering through Forest Hills Gardens, one of my favorite neighborhoods filled with beautiful architectural homes and 100-year-old trees. We used to joke that he got to poop on the most expensive grass in the city and had the most glorious dog walks in every season of the year.
We got him when I was exploring my spirituality, after my big spontaneous awakening experience in 2010. His friendly nature meant that we met every other dog owner and he was like the dog mayor of the neighborhood. Everyone knew Ralph. Even dogs that usually didn’t get along with male dogs were surprisingly very friendly with him.
One Halloween night, when the veil between worlds was thin, we walked in an area that had a lot of spiritual energy. We both stopped and I saw tall beings walking by with my actual vision, outside of my mind’s eye, which is a rare occurrence. Ralph was also on alert, standing in front of me and pointing at them with his stance. When they walked by, he relaxed, and I relaxed as well. Ralph could definitely see things and notice things in the other realms.
At another point, I was walking Ralph and the robins (which were involved in my spiritual awakening experiences) flocked around us. Some robins would walk right in front of me, fluttering their wings. Birds were my spirit animals and they would either send me messages or fly super close to me, causing tingles of electric energy up my body and crown chakra.
When I was pregnant with my first child and had recently started my company, Being My Purpose, I got to walk Ralph every day for hours as well, letting me think and admire the beauty of the trees, flowers, and homes. Our goal was to get a backyard one day so that he could run off-leash all the time. In the meantime, Ralph taught me that no matter the weather, I could go outside.. from torrential rains and hurricanes, to more than a foot of snow (which he loved jumping through), and freezing cold temperatures with sleet and hail. He loved rolling around in grass, sunning himself like a cat, and rummaging through piles of crunchy, fall leaves.
When I was juggling a baby and walking Ralph, I saw our mandatory walks outside as a way to gain independence and freedom. I was overwhelmed and sleep-deprived with caring for a baby in the first year, and Ralph would sit next to me when I was up at odd hours. When I sat at the piano to sing, especially when I sang sad ballads by Sara Bareilles, he would sit next to my legs, a furry companion, steadfast and unmoving like a rock, as if comforting me through the emotions.
We didn’t get a backyard until after the pandemic and we stayed in houses in the Hudson Valley area that had backyards. By this time, we had two kids and he was getting older. His face was turning grey and he slept for many hours during the day, but he loved sitting in the sun outside and zooming.
Admittedly, after having two children and working from home, I didn’t spend as much time walking or petting Ralph (our first-born son, as we’d call him) as I used to. I’m thankful my husband and kids got to walk him, but I kept thinking that I wanted to take him on a long, meandering walk somewhere new and not just walk him briefly outside to do his business or hang out in the backyard, but life happened, and I never did.
In the last few months of his life, his body started failing. He would bounce back from getting sick every time, so I wasn’t expecting him to go that quickly. Over Christmas and New Year’s break, our plans suddenly changed so that we stayed at home instead of traveling. My readings for myself also asked that I plant bulbs in the backyard for springtime, and that the deadline to do so was by the end of that week.
I finally decided to do a family walk and bring him to the playground with the kids. He had a lot of energy the night before, but could barely walk now. Rob carried him to the playground, and Ralph sat on the grass and sunned himself. After a while, I noticed he had gotten up and moved a few feet. Surprised, I walked over to him, picked up his leash and he started walking with purpose across the baseball field. I kept asking him where we were going, but then it hit me, that he had mustered up the energy to walk like we used to.
I knew this was something special, and that he had gifted me my last walk with him.
The next day, we took Ralph outside while we planted flower bulbs, with the kids digging in the yard. We spent hours outside and the weather was unseasonably warm for New Year’s Day, like the sun was shining down on him with love.
We brought him back inside, and I petted him as much as I could, telling him we loved him. I told him I was sorry I didn’t spend as much time with him as I used to, and that I was so sad and felt guilty for that.
I took a quick break upstairs and saw a video memory that popped up on my Facebook from exactly seven years ago to the day. On New Year’s day, Ralph was running around off-leash in the woods in our neighborhood park. He was young, spry, and happy. I knew then, that Ralph had sent the video to tell us that he wanted to be remembered like that. He timed it such that he was going to pass away the moment I went downstairs.
I petted Ralph through his last breaths. With tears streaming down my face, I told him that I loved him and that he could let go. I told him that he would see all his friends who had crossed over, including Cosmo, his first best friend, who was a French bulldog. I told him the names of all my relatives and friends who had passed away, and that he would see all of them as well.
I saw the light leave his eyes.
I petted him for a while afterward, feeling the softness of his floppy ears, and the scruff of fur around his neck. It was my first time seeing someone I loved pass away in front of me, and I wanted him to know he was not alone, and that I was there with him.
At 13 years old, he would’ve been 91 in dog years.
As Rob cared for him later, I saw his spirit in my mind’s eye and with my actual eyes, several feet above his body. He was young, energetic, and spry again. “It’s me! It’s me! I’m here!” he said. He felt exuberant, like he was free from an aging body that didn’t work for him anymore. He told me that he knew I felt guilty, but that everything happened so that I was there with him at the end, when it mattered most. He said that my lesson was about self-forgiveness. That he loved me and did not blame me for not spending as much time with him.
He mentioned that whenever I felt the need to work or do the dishes instead of spending time with my kids, that every time I chose to spend time to engage with them (even though I worried about something else not getting done), that I should say, “Thank you, Ralph.” That was the major lesson - to engage in the moment, to be present, to not let ideas drag on until it was too late.
Was it too late? No, he said it was perfect timing. Things happened in order for me to learn. And now that he was in spirit form, he would counsel and lead me from the other realms. What I didn’t realize until later, was that he was more than just a dog; he was my spirit guide in this life as well.
This gave me solace, but the next few days after he passed were filled with grief and guilt. I understood how people could fall into depression and not be able to get out. A few days later, he spoke to me again, and even visited my daughter in a dream. She said in the morning, that Ralph was free and happy, and that he did not have a leash on.
He’s since visited and advised us, encouraging us to spend more family time outdoors, to hike, and to follow our intuition.
I’ve learned a lot during this time. Ralph taught us how to love and how to be present. He taught me to explore the outdoors with curiosity and vigor. He taught us to be friendly to everyone and have a zest for life.
In honor of Ralph, we plan to plant a cherry tree with his ashes so that he can always roll around with joy in the cherry blossoms.
Hug your pets and loved ones a little harder. And when you feel the urge to work or do something instead of playing with them, choose to play. You can thank Ralph later.