Fighting Dragons From Across the Rainbow Bridge

As darkness falls outside our home, the monsters come out. The shape, size and intention of these creatures change as my boys age and their viewing habits introduce new creatures to their inner grimoires. However, no matter the creature that could be lurking in the yard, ready to peek in through the windows, Bella the ghost dog is ready to protect my boys from any danger.

Our sweet Chesapeake Bay Retriever passed in 2016 at the age of 14. Until the cancer left her unable to walk, she was a nursemaid, protector and best friend to my boys, who were two and four. Never jealous, she welcomed the boys to our family gently and enthusiastically. She was their first walker, allowing them to hang by handfuls of fur as they navigated their feet. She was an extra baby gate, blocking the two steps down into the sunken living room with her body when toddling feet got too close. She was my Buddhist teacher when it came to patience; as my sleep-deprived brain would scream in frustration, I would pull my children away from trying to poke her in the eye or put a toy up her nose and chastise them with a few sharpish words. She would look at me with her sad, understanding eyes and sigh, reminding me that she was doing fine and maybe it was me that was not. Then she would sidle up to me, lick me and offer to share the pain.

When she went, it was too fast. But that’s not the story. Instead, it is the after-Bella whose adventures we continue to celebrate today. After she left, we read a children’s story about how ghost dogs protect their families, invisible, each day and night. We would call to her, read to her and feed her invisible treats- all of her favorites, of course, in unlimited supply.

It was my boys who started to call to her when the dark became a scarier place when the stories they wanted to read began to contain monsters. Like all childhood monsters who don’t know how to stay neatly inside their book covers, these would creep from closet cracks and under beds and mostly outside the window.

Since imaginary creatures are best fought with weapons of imagination, I tried protective spells and creative but convincing lies. I gave them the assurance that when the man who did the ant spray came by, we had upgraded to the annual monster spray as well. But it was my boys who called for Bella, and it was my ghost girl who resumed her duties as protector and crossed back into our home, fierce and invisible, to chase away the nightmares.

It will be six years this summer since we lost our girl. Our goal of transitioning to a more nomadic family life has kept us from bringing another canine friend into our home. But even as my oldest son’s interests begin to shift from fairy tales to girls and YouTube and the best Minecraft hacks, I still get to hear him call to her on nights when the winds howl a bit too fiercely or call her in for comfort when he’s had a bad day.

The ghost of Bella still has a lot to teach me as well. On certain days, I swear I can hear her sigh of disappointment as my voice becomes a bit louder and my tone more impatient when chiding the boys for dirty rooms, late departures and incomplete homework. If I close my eyes and breathe deeply, I can feel her astral form push against me, firmly but gently, as she reminds me that I still have my own inner dragons to fight. And that she will be with me, loving me the whole way.