“Life exists only at this very moment,

and in this moment it is infinite and eternal.”

- Alan Watts

Brutus and Skye greeting me in the morning.

Our beloved wolf-dog pair, Skye and Brutus, left their earthly forms just eight days apart this month, one following the other. Skye passed shortly after her Sweet 16 birthday party, which she celebrated with her love, Brutus, the two of them enjoying their last long walk together and sharing a gourmet cake made for Skye by Wild Spirit’s loving volunteers. Little more than a week later, Brutus was ready to go with her, leaving his body to run forever free.

The first time I met Skye she tried to pull me over by the hood of my sweatshirt, which was on my head. She was famous for pulling volunteers down and dragging them across her habitat by their hair, hoods, jacket collars and belts, and it was obvious that she reveled in doing so. It was the day we let Skye and Brutus back into their home after nearly a month of living in our largest habitat, the one-acre, while we constructed a brand new cave house and pond for them. We had close to 15 staff and volunteers in there, watching them explore and enjoy their new digs. I was crouched when Skye approached me, sniffed my hand, and then without warning grabbed my hood at the side of my face. Before she started pulling I pushed her back by her chest. She let go, and we looked at each other for a moment while I stood up before she went merrily on her way.

Though I didn’t have contact with her again for six years, that first moment of introduction always felt like some initiation into who she was.

When I returned to Wild Spirit for work in January 2015 I was soon trained to be Brutus and Skye’s caretaker. I was wary of her at first in light of our initial interaction years prior. I’d not only seen, but experienced the naughty side of her that everyone talked about. I knew what she was capable of. But I soon realized that with time she’d softened. An old lady, then, at nearly 15, she was much more mellow than she was in her younger years. She was gentle, but still firm, letting me know if she didn’t like how I was petting her, and escorted me around the back of her habitat when I cleaned up, though when she did so it was not menacing but endearing. She was undeniably sweet, grandmotherly, yet still spry for her age and playful with her best friend, Brutus.

Although she never challenged me again like she had as a 9 year old, I always respected that side of her, and loved sharing stories of her past mischievousness with new volunteers and guests. Most of us mature with age, I’d say. And when I’d tell those stories, I always felt her look at me in such a way as if to say, “I can’t believe you told them that!”

It was only about a month after I began caring for them that both Brutus and Skye fell ill with an unidentified illness that disturbed their equilibrium, making both of them off balance, eventually effecting Brutus enough that he could barely walk or stand.

One morning, I entered their habitat for animal care and found Brutus lying down in the back unable to get up. Skye followed me and stayed glued to my side while I knelt beside him assessing his condition and petting his cheek. The concern in her eyes, her face, was so palpable, so deeply emotional. She acted both like a partner and a mother to him, then, and I realized that even in that short amount of time we had grown close enough to be like family. Together, the two of us watched over him waiting for help to arrive. While he was gone at the vet over the next five days she waited for him, visibly concerned. She came to me each of those days for comfort, during which I assured her repeatedly that he would come back. When he did, she rejoiced and rested at reuniting with him. What a rich, dynamic, beautiful, caring soul.

Skye passed away just days after her Sweet 16 as if, like the classy fun-loving old lady she was, she had decided to go out with a bang. The volunteers made a beautiful and special meat cake for her with her name written on the surface in cursive turkey bacon. While the cake was staged, their current caretaker, Stefanie, and I took the two of them on a long walk with one of their best friends, Christine, who was visiting them for the weekend. When we returned, Brutus and I stayed behind while Skye was presented with the cake. At first she was upset, pacing and confused as to why Brutus wasn’t coming in with her, but when at last she saw the cake, she understood. Brutus was by far the more food aggressive of the pair and would have pushed her out of the way to take the entire cake for himself. When she finally dug in, she ate happily, finishing exactly half of her birthday cake, and left the rest for Brutus, which he inhaled with glee.

Over the following week she let nature take its course, surrendering to the breakdown of the body as she prepared to transition into the next realm.

I found her not long after she had passed on a sunny spring day. Her body was at peace. When I touched her, checking how long it had been since the life moved out of her, I admired her beauty, that magnificent vessel she had chosen to live out this life, and I was truly happy for her that she could go on her own, that she was ready, fulfilled. To see her that way brought me peace, a lightness that allowed me to let go of her physical form, just as she had.

* * *

Only eight days after Skye passed away, bright-hearted Brutus was ready to go with her.

Brutus had one of the best attitudes of anyone I have encountered in my life. He loved life. He was filled with vibrant life. He beamed with joy and love, always smiled, and brought so much happiness to those around him. He loved burrowing and nuzzling into laps, jumping up and putting his paws on your shoulders, and reveled in long hugs. His demeanor itself was comforting, always coming to his friends to shower them with his unending source of love and affection. Eating was one of his favorite past-times, and he smiled broadly while he played with his boomer ball, one of their favorite toys. When walking or galloping together in the one-acre, an uninhabited enclosure used for enrichment, he always told all of the other males that Skye was his lady, puffing out his cheeks and growling with authority to let them know he was the boss.

It was his enormous heart and his quirks that made him who he was, Brutus being the most fitting name. Even his smile was unique, embellished with an unmistakable and adorable snaggle tooth. He had his compulsions – his food obsession, his drive to go after gloves, hats and fluffy fabrics, and the occasional impulse to grab beards and hair. When confronted with these items it seemed almost like he would lose control of himself, he had to go after them, he had to have them.

And of course, Brutus’s loving spirit spilled onto almost everyone he met, and most of all, his Skye. Not only did these two have such impactful, beautiful spirits as individuals, they had an enduring, unshakable love for one another. They looked after, guided and supported each other like great couples do, and they always made time to play together. They balanced one another and enjoyed each other endlessly in their similarities, both rambunctious, yet gentle and loving.

I took this photo during my parents' visit to Wild Spirit when they met Skye and Brutus for the first time.

After I found Skye had passed I realized quickly that Brutus already knew, but hadn’t told me. When I first entered the habitat he was playing with his boomer ball, occupying himself, and welcomed me with deep love. When I went to check on Skye, finding she had left her body, I rose up from beside her and turned to see Brutus lying in his favorite corner of the habitat looking at us with his head resting on his front paws. I walked to him, knelt before him and enveloped him in a long hug.

When Skye passed, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he joined her. In his last two days he spent much of his time laying in the spot where she left this life, his desire for connection with her both breaking and warming my heart. Though he remained full of love until the very end, it was undeniable how much he missed her. After just a week, his cancer overcame him. He was ready to move on.

I chose Alan Watts’ quote that now is infinite and eternal to open this tribute because it describes how I feel about losing those loved ones we’ve been drawn to in our lives. When I recognize that the now is infinite, that it is always happening, I realize, too, that it is forever. To me, this means that when our loved ones move beyond their bodies they are still with us, because the now we once shared with them is that same infinite now we are experiencing in this moment, and in this way, they are never gone, can never be taken away from us.

My friend, Christine, said of Skye upon her death “I know your heart.” It is a most fitting description. When we love someone, when we know each other’s hearts, it is through the exchanging of our presence and heart energy in our interactions. That is the stuff that charges and stays with us. And though I already miss seeing their beautiful smiling faces, their earthly bodies, their warm welcomes, I don’t feel like they are gone. Skye and Brutus are a part of me, and I am moved by the thought of them being together again, for the first time running free, dancing together in whatever new form, or formlessness, they’ve gone into. Two spirited sprites.

I will remain always grateful for Skye and Brutus’s teachings – to have fun in life, to love your friends, your family, to play, be daring, but also kind, loving, caring, and nurturing. And I will forever cherish the countless, beautiful moments we shared – when Brutus stood with his back feet on the edge of the pond, his front paws on my shoulders pressing his forehead into mine, sharing space, holding each other there, just because. And the last time I cleaned their pond, while I sat on the lip waiting for the water to drain and Skye approached me from behind, something I no longer worried about, and craned her head over my shoulder, our heads next to one another, listening to the sound of her sniffing as she examined my shirt. At the vet’s office when Brutus, on leash, rearranged a shelf of brochures in the waiting room, tried to get gum out of the gumball machine, pissed on a bench in the exam room and nearly knocked a painting off the wall. Taking them for walks and watching them revel in the one-acre, showing off. Kissing each of them on their foreheads and cheeks in those last days, united in our knowing; together, saying goodbye.