The Spiritual Umbilical Cord between Humans and Pets: When you’re Soul Mate Animal Dies
In the heart of most old dogs is the fear of deserting its pack. Their mysterious spiritual umbilical cord to us transcends logic and takes us to the world of telepathy.

January 19th 2009 - The Spiritual Umbilical Cord between Humans and Pets
When you’re Soul Mate Animal Dies
By Ann Marie O’Dell

Chinook was my Soul Mate. As a puppy he looked like a small white polar bear with ice blue eyes. He was brought to my door by well meaning friends in transition. “If you don’t take him were going to have him put to sleep.” {They knew me well.} I agreed to adopt him, though I’d finally declared my independence of commitment to anyone but my inner Angel and I. Evidently my Guide had other plans for me. I never could have dreamed what a responsibility a Wolf Dog would be.


Though the mystique of having a wild animal is glamorous, it takes on a huge responsibility. As Chinook grew, the couches and chairs he ate went out the door one by one. No fence could contain him. He could burrow at least 6 feet deep to get out of an enclosed area. As often as he escaped the fenced area I confined him, it is a wonder no one in my small town shot him. His unusual magical appearance was his saving grace I believe. Who could possibly shoot a Unicorn with ice blue eyes? He had the stunning wolf fantasy appearance artists draw their women walking beside, a shapely arm wrapped around a massive Polar Bear/Wolf head.. Weighing easily 120 lbs at his prime of 2 years old, not even neutering slowed Chinooks desire to mate. Freshly home from the hospital it was barely two weeks before he was out running the town making love to all who would have him.


Dogs are easily trained and blend into human life genetically. Wolves are shy and do not usually adjust well to interior human environment. In breeding a Wolf and Dog together, it is a 50 – 50 toss as to which side of the two canine personalities you will get.

As Chinook reached 2 yrs old his need to breed and run was making him a constant problem. I decided neutering was a must. As it turned out the only thing neutering seemed to do was focus Chinooks brain enough to learn the word “Sit” and “Stay” on his terms. I had the dream of training him to jump through a hula-hoop. Typical wolf style, he walked through it on his own terms. He trained me quickly that convenience was the name of the game. He was boss, I was his mate, and he proved it by shoving his head between the legs of every male that came to my door. They were all met by a massive white polar bear head at their jewels. Though he never bit anyone, his threatening dominance while young was not to be mistaken.


Somewhere around 3 yrs old my white wolf-dog became more like a domestic dog. We became one in mind. I found myself feeling his thoughts. I would look over in a room at night and see him analyzing my tiniest of actions and moods with penetrating eyes. In this year I met the man I would later marry. It took well over 2 years to establish this decision for Chinook to adjust to. By this time Chinook was five yrs old. Kevin hated Chinooks break outs and did not have the same patience for him I did. Chinook began to fear him. He seemed to hand over his pack leadership to Kevin, and though I was always Chinook’s he understood I was two, .and my other side had an Alpha. In the mean time I became a Slave to Chinooks needs. To keep him from running during the day we set two Hog Confinement pens together with a dog house inside. At night, when I was home from work, he had no interest to run. His pack and new woman were close by and they came inside with Kevin and I. To ease Chinooks loneliness I had brought home a young orphaned Golden Retriever. It was a match made in heaven. She washed him, doted on him, played and mated with him. All his needs were met


Kevin and I prepared the back yard for our wedding. One hour before, to my family’s horror, I donned knee high farm boots and painted the dog pen forest green to blend with the wedding deco. Chinook was nervous. His wife, Jazz, was not. She instinctively knew how to keep him quiet and let him know this was a woman thing. He did not whine or emit one yelp-howl.. The horses and Amish wagon brought our guests. Chinook agreed to share me, and the wedding went like a dream. Still the shadow of Chinook controlled the final out come and it was his blessing to me to be a good boy.

As the years went by Chinook and his wife, Jazz, took long soul searching walks with my husband and I. By now Chinooks dog genetics were kicking in and he was becoming truly the most wonderful of companions. He saw me not only through a marriage to another, but two grand children. Our spiritual connection, like a joining of minds, enmeshed so tightly that as Chinook’s age approached I felt his aches and pains. Most of all I took on his hopelessness when his body would not allow flow of movement.


Jazz, Chinooks Golden Retriever wife died at 10 years old. Though she ran and swam like the wind, tending to Chinooks wolf-dog needs was her life purpose. The obvious signs of her heart tiring could not be ignored as she gasped for breath unable to move. On the last week of her life I was appalled when Chinook refused to acknowledge her needs.. She died on the back porch facing East on a Beautiful Spring day. So did Chinooks spirit. He seemed to hear her bark but became disappointed when it was not her. He smelled for his mate and could not find her. He developed Arthritis in his hind quarters and Cancer in his ear and behind his eye. His mood became lost and sad. I was his also, but no one took care of him like Jazz. My kitchen filled with alcohol, peroxide, cotton balls and Udder Salve. I cleaned his sores, and every day asked my self when it is wrong to be a Soul Mate pet owner so tied by a spiritual umbilical cord, you refuse to accept death. Was this what Chinook did when Jazz asked permission to leave and he ignored her? Sickness and pain were now more Chinook’s life then his old zestful joy. Every time he seemed ready to leave, he recovered. I scolded myself for pushing away the idea of helping his journey. I remembered the native philosophy “It’s a good day to die.” I waited for the signal.


In the heart of most old dogs is the fear of deserting its pack. Their mysterious spiritual umbilical cord to us transcends logic and takes us to the world of telepathy. Some animals can sense the moment we are off work and heading home in a car. They feel our pain and hurt as their own. Most of all old dogs seem to refuse to abandon us to the wolves. Who will protect us? They hang on through arthritis and Cancer, whimpering in pain, pleading with their eyes for us to release them.


Chinook slowly pulled him self up one morning after a sleepless night of Cancer. It was the first morning he rejected his food. He lay at my feet groaning and looking at me to end the hurt. Every inch of him was in pain. The message from his heart seared into mine. “Make the pain go away.” I sobbed and called the Dr. Twenty minutes later we eased Chinooks broken down hips in the back of the white Sebring convertible. It was a farewell parade ride to his favorite Prairie. As soon as we parked in the lane of trees his legs mysteriously gained strength. As if he had taken a magic elixir his gait became straight and strong as he walked down the path, around the Bog, through the meadow flowers and across the bridge. He even tried to jump into the water for a swim, had we not stopped him. He collapsed into the green tube grass. In bliss, pink tongue panting, he was cradled in the prairie floral surrounded by the chorus of 10:30 AM Bull Frogs. I was both thrilled my old Wolf Dog was revived, and doubting my intension to end his pain.


As we tagged behind Chinook near a circle of Pine Trees, I looked at my feet to see a freshly shed snake skin.. I picked the still moist, paper thin skin up and knew this was the message I was searching for. Native Americans believe animals leave us signs everywhere. A Snake Skin represents metamorphosis….shedding ones earthy bondage towards something more beautiful. I handed the skin to my husband. He nodded. Almost immediately Chinook began limping again. By the time we reached the plank bridge that led to our car his balance wobbled. He cried out in pain as we lifted him gently into the back seat of the car. The snake skin message told me I was not wrong. Chinook’s time for Metamorphosis had come.


I will spare you the details of Chinooks death, except to say my white wolf soul mate died in my arms. For 15 minutes I whistled softly in his ear all his favorite walking songs. Through my tears, behind sunglasses, the snot ran from my nose like rain on to his head. Only once did he flinch as if to wonder at the ferocity of my emotion. Without a flinch my husband wiped my nose and tears clean. I kept whistling. Chinook’s last breath was instant and easy. My spiritual umbilical cord jerked short like a leash, but like walks of old, Chinook’s spirit escaped. Out and out and out to where dogs run free his spirit flowed.

Contact Member:
Ann Marie O'Dell - Certified Psychic Consultant

Early, IA 50535
United States