THE FARM LIFE

The Farm Life. Seems to be everyone’s dream to have, but the “real life” aspect of living on the farm and being surrounded with animal companions is the guarantee that you will one day eventually experience great heartache and loss. Everything that lives, unfortunately has to die. That loss is something that we experienced recently when our beloved 14-year-old Cane Corso Rufus passed away. Rufus would never leave the farm – he knew the sixty-five acres of our tree farm, like the back of his paw. From one side of the farm to the other, Rufus knew his territory. He was a guard dog yet so gentle to his family whom he protected and loved fiercely. His paws never touched pavement, always on the farm running the trails. He would run off at times on our walks, but we knew he would always come back. It was his property. The “KING OF THE FARM” is how people visiting would refer to Rufus. 

Rufus was magnificent and just seemed to be larger than life at times. You would never dare put Rufus in a corner – he’d bark so loud and intensely, he made sure he was heard. Many neighbours from other farms would say that they could hear Rufus’ bark from miles away.  I’ll miss his bark the most.  

With Rufus passing, it got me thinking, what people seem to miss most when a loved one passes away is the auditory element – that unique signature sound of their loved one -their tone, voice or (in this case) bark. That authentic sound of them is now just a memory. When that person goes or the animal is gone, you will never hear their authentic sound again. Ever. And that’s the hardest part. 

The one thing that gave us the most comfort was that Rufus knew how loved he was. He knew.. we would tell him every chance we could how beautiful he was, how loved he was and (most importantly) thanking him for his love, loyalty, and service to our family for all these years.  

When a beloved member of the family passes away, I always find it interesting how the other animals deal with the grief. I know that my other animals saw Rufus’ health decline from the overly athletic dog to a much more cautious senior dog. The animals were watching us process Rufus’ loss, as they process it too. They don’t get to grieve in the same way. Our other dog, Shayla – she can’t verbalize it but we know she is mourning greatly, too. That was her brother. Grief is a language that doesn’t necessarily need words. Loss is a loss.

The golden nugget in reading this blog post is the reminder that, we all need to use our voices– to express our love– as much as possible. Tell the people in your life every chance you get how loved they are. How much they mean to you. Use the voice that God has blessed you with to express your love and gratitude for them. Even if your hands are shaking or it looks “uncool” trust me you’ll never regret that you did. You’ll regret it if you don't. Those moments will be the greatest, most fulfilling memories to look back on. I don’t know about you, but I want, at the end of my life, to know without a shadow of a doubt, that the people I loved the most in life, who truly mattered to me, knew how I felt and how much they meant to me.  

Until next time - Signing off from Broadcasting Live From Sheena’s Point,

Sheena

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