R.I.P. Rosemarie, Mom, Mutti & Omi (Sept. 4th, 1934 – April 30th, 2007)
R.I.P. Pepino, laid to rest April 30th, 2012.
Together again.
Tanja’s Perspective
I felt it only right to include that it is Tanja’s feeling and belief that this story also be called “Pepino’s Story”.
And this story is about everyone who is involved — herself, Pepino, her mom, her dad, and Balu.
Most importantly, this is a story about love.
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It appeared to be shaping into an average, spring day April 30, 2012 in my world, in waking up Crystal Beach. However, a facebook post by a dear friend in Stevensville, showing up on my wall as I sat down with my second coffee changed everything.
(Tanja’s Post)
MAGIC HAPPENS
“Two days after last Christmas we lost our little Pepino, a teeny tiny fourteen year old Yorkshire Terrier. Pepino used to belong to my mother. He took off for a pee and never returned. We searched all over for our little friend, many friends helped, even those we didn’t know. Today he was found!
This morning my dad was digging a hole to plant a little Chestnut tree. Not just an ordinary tree – it was to be planted in memory of my mother – who passed away 5 years ago TODAY. After the kids went to school, I walked to where my dad was digging the hole, knowing just how special this tree is going to be. Oddly, I heard a faint bark – the way Pepino used to bark. I kind of shook my head and got rid of that thought because I thought that’s just crazy! So I went into the house to get my boots on, and when I came out my dad stood there holding the remains of a small animal and said “It’s Pepino, Balu found him”. I was speechless. Balu is another one of our dogs – an old Bouvier who is very calm and gentle and usually does not dig for bones or any critters – ever. Our Jack Russel does that! My dad said he came from the road, carefully holding something in his mouth and then dropped in the front yard near where the hole was just dug for my mother’s chestnut tree. We were 100% positive that this was the skeleton of our little dog. We buried him right beneath the tree, in hopes that he can now Rest In Peace.
Coincidence??”
I just stared at her post, coffee mug in hand, mouth opened. I think I was breathing. I felt the draw immediately to know more, to record it and to share it.
This story – just the initial bare bones poured out in a status update – brought tears to my eyes, not tears of sadness but of being emotionally moved. I had a tingling at the top of my head telling me that this story stirred within me at an energetic level.
It touched my soul.
I sat on it for about 24 hours. It wouldn’t leave me. I had so many things on the go, including finding a new part-time job and a new place to live in 2 months. I really didn’t have the time for this.
But isn’t that exactly how we miss important opportunities?
I asked for a sign. What am I to do with this?
Later that day, amongst many responding comments, Tanja commented on her own post “The whole thing was surreal. I wish I could have described it better. There’s more to it then what I wrote there…just unbelievable…..
That was it.
A phone call to my friend that instant with a brief explanation to my experience got me invited to her house for tea that night.
Upon arrival that May 1st evening, I couldn’t help but feel the comforting calm in the air throughout the house, spreading out over the yard. There was loving presence everywhere.
As it was threatening to rain, releasing a few drops as I pulled into the driveway, and we were about to lose daylight, I suggested we first head out to where it all took place so I could take a picture or two.
It was difficult for Tanja to hold off telling her story until we were sitting inside at the recorder, understandably, so I suggested we head back in.
Sitting at her kitchen table with her 7 year old daughter Kia, who’s birthday it was that day, and Tanja’s dad close by, with tea and girl guide cookies in place, I turned on the recorder.
The tree’s history
“Last summer, Debbie (Sexsmith of Sexsmith Farm) and I did the marketplace pretty much every Saturday morning. Our neighbour beside us sold seedlings. Debbie knows them,” Tanja continued to explain how Deb knew them.
“Another friend of Debbie’s bought this little chestnut tree from them. And then the following week they came back and returned it but those people beside us were gone.
She said, ‘I don’t want a chestnut tree. My girlfriend said they are too messy. So, if you see them can you bring it back to them?’
“So, I took it back to the farm and it was there for a week or two. I saw this woman again at the market and I said ‘I still have it. What do you want me to do with it?’
“She said ‘Well, just keep it.’
“I came home and I told him about it.” She pointed to her father who was busy cleaning up at the kitchen counter with his back to us.
“He said ‘Oh, I love chestnut trees.’ So I brought it home.
“It had been in this pot for a long time, poor little tree. And it was right around – just before – like, my mom’s birthday is September 4th so I guess maybe in or around July 1st or something.
“He decided, ‘Ok, I’m going to plant this tree in her memory.’
“But then, he was watching this tree over the fall and the winter and it didn’t like the spot back there. He made the decision, ‘I have to move this tree.’
“And it’s a very significant tree. Like, it was sort of a big thing to get, ya know, closure. He said, ‘Ok, we gotta move this chestnut tree to a better spot.’ He’d been thinking here and there.
“Then he said, ‘Ok, so here in the front, you know, for everyone to see.’ He’d been thinking that for about 2 weeks but he hadn’t done anything about it and he realized, ‘I’m going to wait until April 30th because that is the anniversary of her death.’”
April 30th
“So, April 30th came along on Monday. The kids were getting ready for school. It was a day off for me. And I saw him (pointing to her dad). He was outside with a wheelbarrow and he was ready to dig. We didn’t even talk to each other but as soon as I saw him, I knew what was happening. Like, he didn’t tell me the plan. We kind of just sort of …knew. And thought, ok, that’s the spot.
“So, the kids went on the bus and I walked over there. I had my coffee in my hand. He was digging away, not saying much.
“I suddenly said, ‘I can’t believe it’s been 5 years that we’ve made it without her.’
“I was standing there and I heard….a barking. And I thought, ‘Ok, that’s Sass,’ because Sassy, my other little one, she has kind of a faint bark too, right?”
Pepino
“So, we’ll stop right there and I’ll tell you about my relationship with Pepino. He was the runt of the litter. He was so small. My parents were good friends with the breeder. She lives out in the middle of nowhere. She said, ‘If I keep this little yorkie he’s gonna die.’”
Tanja turned to her father who was still working at the counter a few metres behind me. “He was not a puppy, eh?” Her dad said Pepino was 1 ½ years old.
“So, he was young. And we’ve always had at least 4 dogs. My parents have always had dogs. My mom loved dogs. So, he was totally attached to my mom. He preferred women.
“Mom passed away in April 30, 2005. She had cancer. She had Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. She was diagnosed about 9 months before she passed away. They gave her like 3 or 4 months to live and she lasted 9 months. He was so attached it was almost annoying, you know what I mean? And then 2 years after she passed, about 2 1/2 years, he (referring to her dad) moved in with me and brought Balu (pointing to the large charcoal coloured Bouvier lying contently in the middle of the next room), Pepino, Sassy, and Ricky. Ricky is the parrot (pointing to the corner behind, to my right and above me). I had my Jack Russell, Freda, so it was a big joke ‘cause when he moved in with me, my Freda became his dog and Pepino became mine. Ya know, he slept with me and stayed around me. He was always acting like ‘Where is she? There she is.’
“But he was also old.” Looking at her dad, she asked, “How old do you think he was?” After some deductive discussion, it was agreed upon that Pepino was almost 13 years old at the time of his disappearance.
“But Pepino had started to walk into walls. He would look for me. Like, I’d be right there. Like, he couldn’t see. He had 12 teeth removed the summer before so his tongue was sticking out. You know, and he was, he was…smelly, ya know, but he just wanted, he just wanted my love. As long as he was cuddled or close – he just needed to touch. And when I left at night, like when I went out, he would bark at the door. Sometimes I would try and trick him. I would put him in the bed under the covers and sneak out so that he would think I was there. Sometimes it worked but not always. Sometimes I would forget and sometimes he would follow the car. And this was not the first time he took off. He’s run away before and he was found. He ran all the way to Sider Road and then they found him.”
Pepino’s last night
“So, that one night; it was 2 days after Christmas, December 27th. We let the dogs go in and out to go pee all the time but Pepino had been peeing in the house. You know, cuz he’s old and it was cold and wet out.
“That night, I said to him, ‘No, you go outside to pee.’ And he did. But he took off. I saw him taking off. I thought, ‘Ok, he’ll be right back’.
“But he never came back. That was the last time we saw him.
“And we looked all over for him.” Her eyes were getting red and her voice began to change, holding back the emotion. “And umm, that was the first night. It was cold. It was kinda that big fluffy snow. It was awful. This time, I had this feeling that he wasn’t found. You know, like we looked in the fields and, Oh my God it was just crazy. I left work the next day early.
It was a very disturbing feeling not knowing what happened to him. Like, if he got run over by the car or, you know. Where was he? You know, what happened to him? Was it slow? Was it fast? Like, you know what I mean? It’s not know…not knowing.
“And people online, they were great saying ‘Don’t give up. Don’t give up.” But I had to face reality. He was old and fragile. He weighed like maybe 5 pounds. And he wasn’t well. He was not well in his mind. He was delirious. He either wandered off and got lost or he said, ‘Ok, this is my time,’ and went off to die. Animals do that.
“Balu and my Dad are like this,” showing two fingers crossed. “We have to be careful when my Dad leaves the house so Balu doesn’t go after him. They are very, very close. He was also pretty tight with my mom. And he’s a herd dog.” Tanja explained how he herds the kids. “Very gentle, kind, not aggressive at all. Just wants to keep the group together. He’s not a hunter, he doesn’t dig. He herds. I’ve never, ever seen him pick up anything in his mouth and bring it home.
So back to that morning.
“When we were first talking, I was telling you, I heard a faint bark. So I said, ‘Well, Sassy’s right there. And there’s a kennel way down the road.’ But the first thing I thought, it sounded like Pepino. Like the way he barked. When he thought I was gone.
“And I just thought, ‘Ok,’ like it was just a quick vision thought. And then I brushed it off, immediately got rid of it, instead of listening and putting anything into it because….that’s what we do. ‘Cause its nuts.
“And I didn’t say it out loud. But it was there. I remember thinking, ‘Is that Pepino?’ Like I remember clearly thinking that.
“Then after that I went in the house.
And then it happened.
“It’s been 5 years since Mom left. You kind of reflect, you know? We were both in quietness that morning. After answering the phone and putting my boots on, I opened the front door to go outside and there Dad was standing there, holding his shovel still and in the other hand, he was holding a skeleton of a small creature. And I kind of like instantly knew.
“I knew that is was Pepino before he could even say it. I knew it was him. And he said, ‘It’s Pepino. Balu brought him.’
“I was just standing there ‘cause I knew. It was such a weird feeling. And it was just like a ‘WHOOOSH’!” Tanja gestured with her hands, a wave of something that washed over her, starting from her waist, up and over her head. “This was just after he completed digging the hole. It was like Balu said, ‘Wait a minute. I’ll go get something to put in the hole.’ You know what I mean? And I think, if I heard him (Pepino) barking, I think he (Balu) heard him better than me. That’s what I’m thinking.”
At this point, it really started to pour outside. Tanja noticed that most of the sky was sunny but over us, it was pouring rain with a rumbling thunder, all just overhead. We both looked at each other and smiled. No words needed.
“We just immediately went back to the hole. And without even talking. There was no discussion.
“Then Dad said, ‘Balu just brought him on the property and then let him go.’ At first he thought it was some kind of a bird. But then he knew. Ok, that’s not a bird.
“We all were there. There was me, Freda, Balu and the cat Charlie, who thinks he’s a dog. It was just a weird…a weird..feeling, like Balu was all of a sudden like, ‘I found him. I found him.’ Like, he acted so sweet and, you know, he wasn’t doing the nudging thing. And then, when my Dad put him (Pepino) in the grave, he (Balu) went and stepped into it and sniffed it (the skeleton). And like he loves bones. Not once did he try and bite it. He knew… that it was Pepino. And he was looking at us. And he was kind of restless. Like he would sit down and get up again. His behaviour was really strange. And everybody else was kind of just sort of calm. Which is unusual.
“And we were both dumbfounded. Completely dumbfounded. Because it was within the hour. My Mom passed away at 9am. This all happened before 10. You know, like to the hour of her anniversary.
“I know now that I have to be a little bit more in-tune with my thoughts or listen to them better because I heard Pepino barking and I totally dismissed it. I totally dismissed it, because that’s what we’re programmed to do. So, the lesson is for me to don’t dismiss thoughts out of the ordinary, ya know?”
Tanja continued, “So, when it was time to bury him, I asked Dad, ‘Do you have a tag or something like that?’ I felt like we needed to put something in there but I wasn’t sure what. So my Dad got out these clogs of my Mom’s.
“Pepino was an extremely fast runner. He loved to run. My Mom was German and was born right near the Holland border. And she had clogs …like real, wooden, dutch clogs. She used to wear them. He put them in there with Pepino so that now he can run again. It just felt really good.
It’s almost like he needed to get into there, the grave, so that he could go on. Like had a proper way, like he had closure so that he could do what he needed to do.
I’m sure Mom and Pepino are there together now, snuggling on a couch somewhere.”
Writer’s Follow up
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
I brought the recording of Tanja’s interview home with me that night with full intentions of transcribing it, writing the story and getting it out there, published online. But once the words were typed out in point form, with all the information needed, the energy dissipated, life took over and the story was put away for 1 ½ years. There were times when I did feel bad that I hadn’t yet followed through with this project to the end, for myself but mostly for Tanja. But I also felt something within me holding me back. I had to have faith that this was with me for a reason.
The full explanation to this entire journey is not yet clear. However, on Thursday, November 30 of this year, I woke up to hear, “Write the story.” It took me that morning of meditating and watching for what came as a string of subtle signs to realize “the story” was Tanja’s story.
It was time.
I felt drawn to share this with Tanja the following day. Can you imagine her reaction to finding this out? For just the night before, the night between my getting the message and my sharing it with her, Tanja had a very vivid dream of her mom, and that day I called her she said her mom was coming up everywhere.
Again I use Tanja’s word in her facebook post, coincidence? Or do you believe that Tanja’s mom is working on the otherside to influence, guide and help her family?
At this point, we are still in process of finding out what is going on. Sometimes we just have to let go and coast on that flying carpet to see where it leads us to get our answers. In the end, the purpose always shows itself.
At this point, all we can do is keep our eyes, ears and especially our hearts open until we capture the spiritual magic, song, and message of beautiful Rosemarie.
Christine Whelan 
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