Usually, the girls who make appointments are either the older sisters or the moms. It was my first time encountering an aunt coming to make an appointment. I initially wanted to ask if the mom would be the one to book instead, but the aunt emphasized that she is the one who feels the greatest regret over the loss of the precious one, not the mom. Cony was the beloved little princess cherished by the whole family. She had been involved in everything, from weddings to childbirth and postpartum confinement, making her one of the main caregivers. Cony had passed nearly a year ago, yet there were still unresolved feelings in the aunt's heart, and she wished to understand what the precious one wanted to express.
From the very start of our communication, Cony called her "Auntie Big Mama" instead of "aunt," which already revealed the deep affection between them. Cony was a 13-year-old red poodle. Last year, for unexplained reasons, she stopped eating, her belly swelled, and her legs weakened. When taken to the hospital, no cause was found. They could only start with a blood transfusion, but before any further tests could be done, the hospital informed the family that Cony's condition had worsened. The family rushed to the hospital and, realizing that further emergency treatments were futile, collectively decided to let Cony go home for her final moments. The anxious grandparents awaited her at home.
I understand how important it is for people to "go home for their final moments," but this was the first time I heard someone insist on bringing their beloved pet home to pass away there. The aunt told me that due to cataracts, Cony could hardly see in her last years, and the entire family wished for her to leave this world in a familiar, safe environment. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time, which caused the aunt who was driving to the hospital to have a lifelong regret. She said she knew the way north so well, but somehow ended up driving south. Because of this delay, Cony passed away in the car, becoming a little angel.
During our communication, I suddenly felt very restless, as if my nose was blocked and I could hardly breathe. I initially thought it was due to the hot weather, but after we finished talking, the feeling went away. The aunt told me that Cony had felt the same discomfort in the car before passing. I realized perhaps I was empathetically sensing Cony's discomfort before her final moments. The aunt asked if Cony still wanted to go out and play and didn't want to go home, which might explain why the driving direction was accidentally wrong. She sensed something mysterious — as if an external force was pulling the steering wheel.
Cony gave a series of answers that confused me, like "Leaving in front of the grandparents would be rude," and "They are elders; it would be improper to leave in front of them." Could it be that pets also have a concept of not wanting the elders to experience loss first? Does "rude" mean unfilial? But do dogs even think about being filial to their owners? I was full of questions, but despite my confusion, I conveyed her words accurately. The aunt then said that Cony was truly very filial. Even before the grandmother finished her chores, Cony wouldn't touch her dinner. She would wait until the grandmother started eating before moving her bowl. "My mom often says, none of you kids are as filial as Cony!" How adorable. If the aunt hadn't clarified, I would have never understood what Cony meant – it was my first time encountering a "filial" dog.
Cony continued to explain, "If I can't go home to pass away, then I want to take one last ride with you," and "But then I realized my soul could fly by itself. I kept trying to leave and enter my body. Maybe I was practicing, and since I wasn't used to having little wings, I got dizzy and flew the wrong way." Then Cony asked, "Auntie Big Mama, could it be my changed energy field affected you and made you take the wrong direction?"
This guess immediately transformed the aunt's lingering grief into a sweet connection: "Cony and I are both stubborn little dummies!" The aunt then asked, "Is Cony still faithfully guarding the home?" This time Cony was confused: "Guarding the house alone is a bit boring. I've been gone so long; do you still want me doing such a dull job? Or do you want Cony to stay forever at home?"
With a strong personality, Cony expressed her thoughts: "Now I can do more to protect you all from heaven. I will watch over you, don't want to watch the house anymore!" It turned out to be a misunderstanding. The family just wanted to know whether Cony was satisfied with having her ashes buried in the tree pot on the home balcony. Since the question was not clear, it was easy to have cross-talk. Cony then gave an intriguing and thoughtful aside: "Before, I used to look from inside the house towards the balcony. Now I look from the balcony towards the house. Changing perspective brings a whole new view. Moms, why don't you try playing with this? Seeing things from a different angle is completely different."
At last, I understood why Cony chose a photo upside down with her feet up during our communication. I believe she wanted to remind the aunt once again, "Many things are just a matter of changing your mindset."
Her deeply missing aunt now can only say good morning every day to a little charm on her car resembling Cony made of wool felt. "At first, I was jealous of it – it's not as pretty as me. Why does Auntie Big Mama talk to it?" Later I understood, that little doll is like a key, connecting the longing between me and Auntie Big Mama, letting her love for me continue. "Now Auntie Big Mama's car is my throne. Shh... I like Auntie Big Mama's driving skills better. Don't tell Grandpa!"
Hearing this, the aunt laughed again, explaining that normally Cony would be driven around by Grandpa, but Grandpa drives so slowly... This little princess loved her family dressing her in mini skirts. She said her next stop would be as a human, so she could wear real mini skirts. "Although heaven took me away before we were ready, at least I don't have to suffer becoming ugly in old age! My butt is meant to wear mini skirts, not diapers!" The aunt paused and finally recalled that in Cony's last week in the hospital, she really wore diapers.
This communication was like a surprise gift from Cony's answers. Thanks to the aunt's willingness to verify details and provide timely clarifications, we have this special story of love to share. Otherwise, I could only convey words without understanding their meaning, which would be such a pity.
