I had the same dream again this morning. It was a little different. This time it ended with Honey and I holding each other, she nuzzled against my chin, me stroking her hair. She looked at me, gave me a kiss on the cheek and said once again in a mix of English and Chinese; "It's okay daddy. Baby pu yao." I got a call about 15 minutes later. It was Dr. Jenny. Honey had just taken her last breath. Surprisingly, I am holding up rather well. I suppose it was the uncertainty of her situation and the possibility of inadvertently prolonging her suffering that really got to me. I don't know if you are superstitious people, or if you believe that animals even have souls. But I know what I believe, and that is I have always had a very strong connection with my animal friends, what more a friend like Honey whose lived with me and done so many things with me. I really do believe that this recurring dream is a message of sorts. And through that I have found my closure.
My dearest Honey bee, I wish I could tell you again how much I love you. Or that I could stroke your head and tickle your ears just one more time. But I guess it is time for you to go to the Goddess. We may never meet again, but I will feel you now everywhere; in the air that fills my lungs, in the soft wind that ruffles my hair, in every blade of grass that cushions my step, in every flower that brightens my sight. I love you, my sweet little honey bee. Goodbye.
My dearest Honey bee, I wish I could tell you again how much I love you. Or that I could stroke your head and tickle your ears just one more time. But I guess it is time for you to go to the Goddess. We may never meet again, but I will feel you now everywhere; in the air that fills my lungs, in the soft wind that ruffles my hair, in every blade of grass that cushions my step, in every flower that brightens my sight. I love you, my sweet little honey bee. Goodbye.