Ipo's Last Run

You should know by now, there is no birth, there is not death. Nisargadatta

I wake up before Ipo this morning, just as the sun is coming up. A few minutes later I hear his soft cry from under the bed. He's been sleeping under the bed since he was a puppy, no doubt to be safe from his big brother Luke. Now Ipo has grown so much he barely fits underneath and I have to pull him out by his hind legs. He loves to be slid along the tile floor, then lie on his back to be petted him from his exposed throat down to his soft tummy.

Every morning is totally new and fresh for him. He greets the day fully alive and pulsing with energy. Once I put his food down he eats it like it is the most extraordinary meal of his life. As soon as I finish eating, he’s raring to go — no more quiet morning meditations with a puppy in the house (though I did get to finish the paper today — no mean feat). He’s pulling on my shirt sleeve, ready for play. I take him out and throw the Frisbee down the hill. He’s off like a shot, trying to grab it with his teeth before it stops rolling. Up and down he goes, proudly bringing it back to me each time.

Play over, he has his morning nap under my desk while I write; his fur is soft and warm under my feet. Unlike many dogs, he relates more to humans than animals. He loves to snuggle on the couch next to Linda, with his warm body against her; she loves him as if he were her own child.

How far this little puppy has come in just a week, when he was chewing up everything in sight. In the last few days he has stopped whining in the morning, stopped chewing our shoes, stopped dumping everything out of the trash can. He is finally growing up into a beautiful dog.

Yesterday at the beach, he didn’t roll on anyone’s towel — a real first. Unlike most Australian Shepherds, he loves to swim. When I swim he eagerly jumps in with me, ever so proud to be with his “dad.” He swims out dog-paddle style with the waves lapping at his face, and after fifty feet or so turns around and heads for shore. Afterwards he has a good chase along the beach, play-fighting with his brother Luke. Luke, the alpha dog, trips him up and send him flying; Ipo is more than happy to be rolled. In between chasing his brother and being chased, Ipo runs up to anyone he meets on the beach for a pet or an acknowledgment — something he’s done since he was a little puppy (attracting entire families, who cry out, “Look at the puppy!”). His enthusiasm is not always well received, but he’s always ready to share his love with the next person he meets.

Each afternoon we do something a little different—a walk in the forest, a shopping trip in town, a ride up to the land. He and Luke are always ready for an adventure. “Come on boys,” I say. “Let’s go for a ride!” They hop in the car. Neither of them have any idea what’s ahead. They don’t care. This is their work—guarding me while I drive around. Aussies always have to have a job to do. Luke stays in the back seat in chief guard position; Ipo lies on the passenger seat, his head on the console, as close as he can get to me. I love to pet him while I drive; there is no limit to how much love he is willing to receive.

Today we drive up to our land to check on the house construction. I let them out on the dead-end street we live on, as I’ve done hundreds of times before. There are clear sight lines and no cars in sight. Lukey and Ipo fly off down the side of the road, in total joy as they run along the grass. How few dogs ever get to feel the wind in their faces and their legs taking them as fast as they can go? This is what they are born to do.

Up ahead a pick-up truck pulls out onto the road; both the dogs are clearly visible. I slow down almost to a stop and wave for him to slow down too. At the last moment Ipo veers off towards the middle of the road. He never makes it. There is a sickening whomp. The truck stops. Ipo lies on the road squealing. I’m sure he’s just been hit in the hind leg — perhaps broken it. Someone helps me put him in the car and I take him to the vet. But it’s not a broken leg; I find out that his spine has been broken. There is no choice but to put him down.

Tonight Linda and I bury him on our land, grieving at the loss of our beautiful Ipo. In our short time together he had become a beloved part of the family. Not only did he show us unlimited joy and vitality; he showed us unconditional love. Why did he have to leave now, in the prime of his life? I wish I knew.

A few days later Linda discovers a book by Seth that Ipo had been chewing on the day he died. Two pages have been torn from it. When she looks at the pages, she discovers that they are about two parents grieving over the death of their three-year-old son. They came to Seth hoping for an explanation. He tells them that the three of them had been together in previous lives, and that their son had come back in this life to teach them to go deeper into awareness. When his job was done, it was time to go home.

It feels as if Ipo came into this life to pass on his magnificent “chi” to us. In the few days since his death, Linda has experienced a dramatic shift in her health. After living with a chronic illness for ten years, she is filled with energy. I feel as if my heart has been cracked open; I’m open and vulnerable to life in a way I haven’t been for years. The truth is that Ipo did not die; he is inviting us in every moment to join him in the limitless energy and love that he is.