Esther—a black lab mix with thick fur and soulful eyes—had some very specific messages for her mom.

During our initial session, Esther showed me a scene with her dragging around an old thin t-shirt saying, "It smells like him”. I wasn’t sure who the shirt belonged to, but it was clearly important to her. Her mom immediately understood why Esther shared this. I learned that her mom had recently lost her husband. Before he passed, they intentionally set aside some of his shirts so Esther could still have his scent around. They didn’t realize just how special those shirts were to her until hearing this.

The next part was definitely a first for me. Esther wanted to set the record straight about her reputation as a “treat whore.” I wasn’t sure how her mom would react to this, but I had to pass it along. When I told her, she almost choked. She laughed and shared that this was one of Esther’s nicknames. Esther often showcased her tricks, knowing it was the best way to get treats. Her mom couldn’t believe Esther brought it up because it was something only their family knew about.

I had a session with Esther in May that felt different from the others. She showed a serious side that I had never encountered before. She told me that her time with her family was ending soon and wanted to make sure her family had time to prepare for another loss. My heart sank. I wasn’t sure what to think about Esther’s heavy words. Sure, she was on the older side, but she didn’t have any obvious health issues. I really didn’t want to relay the message. Her family cried when they read my email. From that point on, they made every effort to ensure Esther was living her best life, with extra attention, care and chicken.

Last week, I got a call from Esther’s mom. She was sobbing. Esther's health had suddenly deteriorated, and within a day, euthanasia was the only option. She asked me to check in with Esther. When I did, she was very calm with a peacefulness that made me feel confident she was ready. Her energy felt lighter than before. I wondered if she had already started to transition. She repeatedly showed me a yellow rain jacket. I could tell that there was something significant about the coat. I sent a voice message to her mom asking about the yellow raincoat. I assumed they were at the vet’s office, but later learned that when I connected with Esther, she was at the vet’s office with her human siblings, while her mom was still at home wrapping up her work day. The yellow rain jacket was hanging by the door, and her mom believed this was Esther’s way of telling her to grab the coat and head to the vet quickly.

A couple hours later, I received a text: “She’s gone”.

Esther’s mom thanked me for all the times I spoke to Esther, particularly in May. Even though she was in good health, their mindset shifted around the time they had left with Esther after that message.

Losing our pets is the hardest part of loving them. Rest easy, Lady Esther.

Esther

Teya

ANGELA CHAKOS