I found Jesse in the small town I worked in on a cold raw November day. It was 4 days before Thanksgiving.

Returning from the post office to the family business that was due to close in 4 days, I noticed a loose dog on a side street. I stopped and watched, as did another woman near me. We watched as the dog ran up to a minivan where a woman was putting her children in the van. The dog sat down, waiting to be asked into the van. The woman looked at him next to her smallest child - a dog covered with burrs, bleeding from the nose, lips and gums. As she looked, the dog smiled at her. Big doggy grin! And she freaked out - screaming at him to get away from her children.

Obviously NOT her dog.

The woman next to me and I ran up and held the dog, explaining to the mother that he wasn't mean, just grinning.

He was in rough shape, shivering and a bit bloody, and had been traveling for a while. He looked like he'd either chewed his way out of a fence, or been hit by a car.

My rescue partner introduced herself - Jill - from Minnesota. She asked if I was from around there, and when I told her yes, she asked me if I would take the dog to a vet. She said she would consider taking him home with her, but that she needed to know he was ok. She was staying with her sister, and had to get back. Neither one of us wanted to see him end up at the pound. So she gave me her sister's phone number, and $20, with a promise to pay all his vet bills. (Later, Jill said she didn't know which one of us was sillier - me believing her, or her giving a total stranger $20!)

Well, dog people knowing other dog people, I believed her. The dog had no tags or collar, so Jill went into the market and got some butcher string, and we tied it around the dog's neck, and I took him back to my dad's shop, promising to call as soon as the vet looked at him.

He heeled beautifully, but limped the whole way back.

I walked into the office, laid a towel on the floor for him, and he laid down and went to sleep. He was grateful to be warm, and knew he was safe.

My father was doubtful at the very least, but I told him I trusted Jill, and was taking the dog to the local vet. Right away. Dad wasn't too happy.

I told him I'd make up the time after I usually go home. No customers were coming anyway, as the shop would be closed in days.

While we were talking, the dog woke up, listening to the conversation. He walked up to my dad, sat in front of him, and picked up his right paw.

Dad, not being an animal person, looked at him, looked at me, and looked back at the dog. He reached out, shook the dog's paw and said, "Nice to meet you."

I'll remember that moment the rest of my life! I thought, wow - what an incredibly smart dog! He knew my father didn't approve, and buttered him up a little!

So off we went to the vet - the dog checked out ok, but there was no microchip to identify him. So, legally, they said, he belonged to whoever found him. They also told me he was an Australian Shepherd - an Aussie. I talked to Jill, and she had me leave the dog there to be bathed and neutered. Then she asked me if I would pick him up the next day and take him home with me. Her sister didn't like dogs. And Jill wanted to know if he got along with cats - I had one, along with my two other dogs, Libby and Dillon.

Jill said she'd check in with me after he got out, and she'd be leaving on Thursday. The dog came home with me the next day, still groggy from surgery. Libby and Dillon were very kind to him, although the big macaw I had wasn't! The dog made a wide circle around him. And he liked my cat Emily. She adored him, and wouldn't leave him alone! She rubbed her face all over him. Finally, he rumbled at her, just a little, to let her know enough was enough, and she finally left him alone.

He peed on the chair, just once. I looked at him sternly, and said "We don't do that in here. You go outside!"

He looked very apologetic, and never did it again.

He just bloomed - walked with us in the morning, and played with Libby a lot. Jill came the day before Thanksgiving, and said she had given it some thought, and wasn't taking the dog home with her. My face must have fallen - I had just lost my job, and already had two big dogs.

Jill noticed, and said, "Kim, look at him. He belongs here. He belongs with you." I looked at the dog, and he was playing with Libby, looking like he had gone to Heaven, finding his pack and place with us.

And bless Jill's heart, she paid for all his vet bills, and gave me money for his dog food for the next few months.

Oh, how I adored this dog! I had sworn I would never have a longhaired dog, but he was simply the smartest dog I had ever known. I named him Jesse, because it sounded like a nice name for a sweet dog. (I found out later Jesse means "Gift from God." And he was.)

He would do the funniest things to make me laugh. An Aussie through and through, he had an amazing grin, and the fastest wigglebutt I'd ever seen. (No tail to wag, as Aussies usually have bobbed tails.) He would run away from me in a "C" curve, looking over his shoulder at me as he ran, sometimes running into things. He would duck between my legs, and when I scratched his back leg "bloomers" it made him so happy he would bounce off the ground in the rear end.

I resisted really falling in love with him, because I was so afraid someone would come up to me, and say "Hey! You've got my dog!"

But no one did. I watched for ads in the papers, and let the humane societies and shelters and vets know about him. But no one came for him. I don't know that I would have given him up anyway, because he acted like a dog that had been beaten badly.

And Jesse stole my heart. Life, for him, was me. Wherever I went, whatever I did, that was what he wanted to do. I love my other dogs with all my heart, but they have their own agenda most of the time. They are both very independent. Jesse, in true Aussie fashion, was what is known as a Velcro dog. Wherever I went, he went. He even laid next to the tub when I took a bath. It was a new experience for me.

He was incredibly smart and seemed to understand everything I said to him. When a friend was staying with me for a journeying class I was teaching, she was having a Danish for breakfast. All three of my dogs were mooching, but they couldn't have any because Libby has food allergies. Norma explained to the dogs that they couldn't have any because it wouldn't be fair. Libby and Dillon gave up, and went back outside. Jess didn't give up, though. He just kept calmly waiting, looking at Norma with adoring eyes. Her resolve faded, and she broke off a big piece of Danish, telling him, "Ok, Jess, but you can't tell Libby you got this."

He wagged his rear end in agreement, and wolfed down the Danish.

Of course, dogs knowing things intuitively, within 30 seconds Libby came in the door. She ran up to Jesse to sniff his breath, and as we watched with astonishment, Jesse buried his nose in his armpit, so Libby couldn't sniff his breath! We laughed so hard we just about fell off our chairs.

When I was teaching the class, I watched him, as he picked out the people who were the most unsure about their abilities. He would lie next to them, and gently lay a paw on their arm, supporting and comforting them as they took for other worlds and dimensions.

Jesse loved everyone and everything. He knew when people didn't like dogs, and was very polite to them, but that was it. People who loved dogs usually ended up with him in their lap. Upside down. He visited a nursing home with me, and was very gentle and calm, even with people who were mentally ill with Alzheimer's.

He loved other animals unless they didn't like him, and then he just gave them a wide berth. (Like he did with the macaw.) The only time he went after another dog was when we were walking one day. A Jack Russell terrier came out into the road, marched up to Dillon, and bit him on the nose. Dillon was so astonished he just backed up, but not Jesse. He jumped right at the dog, barking, telling that dog he had no business biting Jesse's adopted brother.

Jesse did have his problems now and then. Most of them were a result of living in an abusive home. He wouldn't go outside after it got dark. I think he was afraid of being left out there all night. He hated thunderstorms, and kept trying to crawl under the kitchen sink. With advice from a friend, I finally solved it by covering a crate with blankets, leaving a small gap at the bottom of the open door for him to scoot under. He hated walking in the rain. When I left him in the yard next to the barn while I was feeding the horses, he would bark at me nonstop. Even though he could see me, he wanted to be WITH me. It really irritated me, until one day I realized the day would come that I would miss his barking.

Some were just funny quirks. When we walked, he had to pee on all the garbage that was in the road. Not in the ditch, just stuff lying in the road. As if it offended him. He must not have been a fan of AA, because he peed all over a "Big Book" before I could stop him.

Libby, Dillon, Jesse and I were living in an Avion travel trailer behind the house. The house was filled with mold, and so we slept in the trailer to limit our exposure to it. One morning, as I was waking up, Libby was underneath the blankets next to me on the floor. Dillon was on the sofa behind my head, with his paws hanging over the edge into my face. Jesse was at the foot of the bed, wanting to come closer to me. He looked to my right, and I told him he couldn't come up there because Libby was under the blankets. So instead, he crept up from my feet, and crawled right up on top of me, with a paw on each of my shoulders. He started licking my face and was happy as a clam. I thought to myself, "There have to be dogs in Heaven, and this must be what it feels like..."

Little did I know it would be one of my last happy moments with Jess.

Almost two years after Jesse came to me, he started moving slower and slower. His back had always been tender - probably from being hit by a car - and I thought he was having trouble with his back legs. I took him to my vet, and she checked him out, but couldn't find anything, other than giving him a spinal adjustment. Jesse was happy to see her, and even did his rear-end bounce for her. We both saw no reason to proceed with any testing, because he was acting perfectly normal.

But when I brought him home, I realized something had gone seriously wrong. Jess couldn't lie down. And he was slowly wandering through the yard. I put my hands on him, and felt very strongly that he was bleeding internally.

My vet was gone for the day, and it was a Saturday, so I took him to an Emergency Vet clinic. They X-rayed him, and found his spleen was huge. (Quite often this happens when they've been hit by a car. It causes the spleen to enlarge from the trauma.) The surgery would cost $2500. I sat on the floor, and asked Jess if he was ready to go Home.

"No," he told me.
I said, "Jess, do you want to stay with me?"
"Yes," he said. "I don't want to leave you!"
And I OK'd the surgery.
Because I had to go home to feed the other animals, I talked to Jess. Told him I loved him. Thanked him for being in my life. Thanked him for everything he had done for me. I was so afraid for him.

I was crying. The receptionist was crying. Everyone in the clinic had already fallen in love with him.

I came home, and my friend Rita came to help me feed, and wait with me. I knew what time the surgery would start. Ten minutes after it started, I was staring into the kitchen. There was Jesse, sitting there looking at me.

Oh, not in the flesh, but clearer than I have ever seen anything or anyone in spirit before. I said, "Rita, he's not going to make it."
She replied, "Oh, Kim, think positive!"
And I said "No, he's not, because he's sitting in the kitchen looking at me."

Ten minutes later, the vet called. The spleen had turned out to be perfectly normal, despite its size. It had, most likely, healed itself. But underneath it, not showing on X-ray, was a huge tumor attached to the liver and intestines, and it was breaking up and bleeding.

She couldn't save him, and said he was still under anesthesia. I told her to let him go.

I lost my dog the day after my birthday. Sobbing, my heart breaking, and yet, my beloved dog is sitting in my kitchen looking at me.

Rita helped me feed everyone, and went home. I called my friend Norma, and told her that Jess was gone. I called my family as well.

When I went to bed that night, Libby and Dillon and I went in to the trailer, and I looked again - Jesse was right there with us.

I cried myself to sleep, hugging Libby, and struggled through the next several days. And everywhere I went, every time I looked, Jesse was sitting there, watching me. I prayed hard to understand why I would lose Jesse after only two wonderful years with him. What lessons there were in it for me. I knew that God doesn't take something away without giving something back - there is always something to see, to receive, and to learn.

After a week, I finally looked Jess in the eye, and said, "Jess, you can go Home now. I miss you something terrible, but I'll be alright." And he didn't move.
I asked him, "Jesse, what are you doing?"
And he answered, "I'm waiting."
"Waiting for what, Jess?"
He said, "I'm waiting for you get another pup, so I can come back to you. I told you I did not want to leave you."

Well, that just broke me up beyond belief. I thought I was done crying, but I sobbed for an hour.

When I went to bed that night, I prayed again. I asked God if it was true, what Jesse was saying to me, or if I was just grieving really hard for him. I asked God to send me a really big sign - one I couldn't ignore - if I had heard Jesse correctly.

The next morning, groggy, I laid in bed waking up. I heard music. With my eyes closed, I listened. I could hear John Denver singing. I thought to myself, "What is John Denver doing singing in my ears?" And I listened harder. He was singing "Whispering Jesse." I thought I had run out of tears, but I was wrong. I cried buckets.

I looked at a few young dogs in shelters, hoping to find a pup. I wanted Jess back so badly, and was very frustrated. I knew I couldn't bring a pup into the house because it was so toxic. I knew we were leaving, I just didn't know how or when. But I kept looking anyway.

I found a breeder in New York that had beautiful Aussie pups. I found a pup that I just loved. The pup went to another home, because I still didn't know when we were leaving or how. I just knew that we were going to die if we stayed one more winter in that house or trailer. (I found that the trailer roof leaked, and it, too, had mold in it.)

Libby had severe food allergies, causing Inflammatory Bowel disease, and Dillon suffered from severe pollen allergies. I had severe food, mold and environmental allergies, and my energy was gone. The only hope we had was to leave everything behind and move. The feeling that we were leaving was so strong, I had made a complete list of everything I needed to do in order to leave. I had talked to shippers for the horses, found a motor home to rent, and got rid of as much stuff as I possible could. That I couldn't bear to part with I packed. Only the day to day stuff was left.

The days went by, turning into weeks. Jesse went everywhere with me. One morning, feeding the horses, I saw him leaping high into the air, playing in the pasture.
"Wheeeee!" he said gleefully. "I'm in the horse pasture!!!!"
When I got done laughing at him, I said, "Yes, Jess, you can go anywhere you want to now. But you need to know that when you're back in the physical, you won't be able to come in with horses again, because it won't be safe for you!"
Oh, he was having grand fun.

One morning I walked Libby and Dillon down a road we hadn't traveled before, going to visit friends. We started to pass a house, and I saw two large dogs barreling right at us, with hackles up and teeth bared. We tried to get out of the way, but they kept coming. All of a sudden, they both stopped. You know when people say someone looks like they've seen a ghost? Well, they did. They ran back to the house as fast as they had come out, very frightened. Jesse had protected us.

When we got to my friend's house, they asked how we had made it past those dogs. Evidently, they had bitten people several times. But they weren't going to mess with Jesse!

One day, I looked for Jesse, and he was gone. I couldn't see him anywhere. I looked and looked. No Jesse. I was tremendously upset. I prayed and asked God where he had gone. No answer. The next day, he was back. I asked him where he had gone, and he was silent. I was so glad to be able to see him again, I let it go. But I wondered.

Two weeks later, I found out that my Dad had had a second stroke. My Dad being the stoic type, hadn't said anything to anyone for a couple of weeks - he hadn't had a severe one, but lost the feeling down one side. I realized that the timing coincided with Jesse's disappearance. I looked at Jess, and asked him if he had known.

He told me, "Yes, that's where I was. I went to be with your father, in case he decided he wanted to go Home. I was there for him, to guide him over if need be, because you see, he knows me."

I had always hoped that when it's my time, my animals who have passed would be there to see me. Now I know.

The breeder I was e-mailing had a second litter arrive. I found another puppy I really liked, and kept waiting. I explained my situation to the breeder, but also told her if she found another home for him that I was ok with that. I just couldn't bring a pup home to the house. I waited, impatiently, and when he was 14 weeks old when she found him another home. The day after he went to his new home, things broke open for me.

A generous relative made it possible for me to move across the country to live with a friend. While there were a multitude of things to be done, my beloved dog was waiting patiently at my side. So I looked to see where the breeder had gotten HER dogs from. When I went to the second breeder's website, I saw that the second breeder had a litter of pups coming at Christmas. I asked God for a puppy for Christmas. A puppy for Jesse.

I called this breeder, and she and I got along really well. She told me she liked to talk to people on the phone first, because she could tell within 5 minutes of talking to them if she wanted one of her puppies going to live with them or not.

"And I hate to tell you this, my dear," she said, "But YOU are an Aussie person, hook, line and sinker! I would be happy to sell you one of my puppies."

She was thrilled that I was involved in alternative healing work, and she was very familiar with Reiki. We talked for a long time like we were old friends. The only thing I didn't tell her was that Jess was sitting there with me, listening to the whole conversation. I was afraid that was a bit more than she would understand, and that she wouldn't send me a pup. The next day, I sent her a deposit.

The frenzy of packing began. Somehow, I came in contact with a shipper from Montana for the horses. The ones I had planned on using weren't going to be available when I wanted to leave, and I knew winter was coming at us quickly. I got the Avion out of the back yard and it went to a friend's storage, where he would show it to buyers. The next day it snowed 6 inches. I reserved the rental motor home, and a U-Haul trailer. Things were frantic - it was December, and I was moving across the country.

I called the breeder to make sure she received the deposit for the puppy. We were talking a bit, and because of the work I do, she told me that she could tell me what she does before her puppies go to their new homes. (She doesn't tell too many people, but she knew I would understand perfectly!) She has a friend come in who is an animal communicator, and this woman talks to the puppies to see what they are going to be like, and if they want to go to the person who has spoken for them, or who would be appropriate.

I just laughed, and thought it was a fabulous idea. But I wondered what she did if a pup didn't want to go to a home that had spoken for them.
"Simple," she said. "I just tell them that puppy isn't suitable for them."
Oh, that just tickled me. And I'll bet her pups and their new owners are happier and more successful than others, too!

I also understood now why I hadn't gotten a pup from the first breeder. I was meant to receive a puppy from this woman who understood and accepted me. And Jesse was meant to get the "right" puppy!

Jess always sat beside me in the mornings, while I was on the computer. Two days before Christmas, I looked over at him, and he was jumping up and down.
"What is it, Jess?" I asked him.
"The puppies are here, the puppies are here!" he told me joyfully.
A few days later, there was a birth announcement from the breeder, saying the same thing. The puppies are here. The puppies are here!

Still walking Libby and Dillon every morning, I wondered what I should call this pup. Not too worried about what other people thought, I figured I would just call him Jesse again. Ha! But as we walked, my guides came to me, and said, "This dog is to be named Gabriel, after Archangel Gabriel. You need to go home and read about him."

What a terrific name! I could call him Gabe for short.
Now, I knew that Archangel Gabriel announced Mother Mary's mission to her. But that was about all I knew about him. When I got home, I got out my angel book. What I didn't know - and this blew my mind - was that Archangel Gabriel is...
The Angel of Rebirth and Resurrection.
I read that, and all I could think was, well, of COURSE he is.

Every day was jam packed with things to do. When the Avion trailer left, I had to put Libby and Dillon in my van, and drive to spend each night at my parents' home. Every morning, we returned to the house to keep getting things ready to go. Emily, my sweet barn cat of 15 years, decided the trip was not for her, and had stopped eating. Her kidneys were failing, and I had to let her go 4 days before we left.

Some time before, the macaw had gone to California to have babies. I gave my van to a local organization to give to someone who needed it.

The shipper came for the horses. I adored him - he was fabulous with them. We prayed before he left that the journey be safe and go well for all of them. My 29 year old horse hated being trailered, and hadn't been in one in 20 years, but he walked right on.

I saw Jesse now and then, but he seemed to blip in and out. I didn't have the time or energy to worry about it, and just figured that he was spending time with the puppies! Three weeks after the money came, we blew out of Michigan. Rita went with me, and would fly home from Idaho. We left the second week in January. As we got into the motor home, I called to Jesse to come with us.

The trip was absolutely hairy. Roads closed due to snow right behind us. Once, the road closed ahead of us. Four times I wanted to turn around, but we had no place to go back to, and my horses were already on the way. So we kept going. It took us five days, and we made it, but were exhausted.

Rita went back to Michigan, the motor home back to the renters, same with the U-Haul. I tried to get us all settled in. The horses had to be moved again - the first place they went was expensive, and didn't have enough room for them to move around. I kept trying to get my feet under me, but was still exhausted, both from the house and the trip. Much later, friends told me that by the time I left Michigan and arrived in Boise, I was gray as a ghost. I don't know how I did it, except that I knew our lives depended on it.

Boise is so different from Michigan. There are no trees, unless they are planted in someone's yard. No water, unless you include the Boise River. The traffic is horrendous - although my friend lived on the edge of the city, cars constantly went by. There were no dirt roads to walk on. Libby, Dillon and I walked down sidewalks and city streets every morning. A far cry from living in the country, with many homes on ten to a hundred acres, and lots of state forest around us. As hard as I tried, I felt like a fish out of water. I couldn't get used to it. Things were just not going well. I knew that moving out of the house had saved our lives. In fact, in addition to the mold, when the house was stripped to be sold, they found the water heater was leaking carbon monoxide into the house because it wasn't vented properly. We hadn't stood a chance in it over the winter. But there were days I wondered if our lives had been saved for naught, because things were so hard in Boise.

I tried hard to be thankful for our lives, that we had a place to come to, and that I still had my horses and dogs with me. But I felt like my life was completely shattered.

One morning, I just fell apart. I didn't feel I could bring another dog into my life. It wasn't fair to the pup, not knowing what was going to happen to us. I was sobbing, and told my friend I had decided to cancel the deposit. She talked to me, asking me to rethink my decision. She knew how much I loved Jesse, and how important it was to me.

Still crying, I went out on the deck and sat in the sun. As I sat there, a HUGE voice came to me. The voice of a tremendous being of light. The voice of Archangel Gabriel.
He said, "THIS SPIRIT WILL NOT BE DENIED."

Whew. When an Archangel speaks to you, you sit there and LISTEN! Archangel Gabriel continued, saying, "You can pick a body that's pleasing to you, or you can cancel this puppy, but this spirit WILL find his way back to you, regardless. When he does, you may not like the form he takes!"

And Archangel Gabriel sent me an image of a basset hound.

Oh. Well. Basset hounds are nice dogs - I've met a couple. But I certainly couldn't see myself owning one! Needless to say, the call was never made to the breeder to cancel the pup.

I sent the full payment, plus shipping, for the pup. The breeder called, confirming she had received the money, and she asked me once again what I was looking for. Her animal communicator friend was coming to talk to the puppies the next day. I knew I wanted another male dog, because Libby needed to stay alpha, or boss doggie, in our pack of soon to be four again. There were only three male pups left, all of them what are called black tri's. (As Jesse was.) All I told her was that it would be one of those pups, and that my guides had told me his name would be Gabriel. So her friend could just ask the puppies which one was Gabe. Bless her heart, she didn't bat an eye. "Ok!" she said. "I'll e-mail you pictures shortly."

The next morning, I called to Jesse, telling him that here was his chance to have a healthy, perfect body - to pick the one he wanted. I told him to go, and pick out who he wanted to be! I never saw him in spirit again.

Within a couple of days, the breeder called, telling me that new pictures would be up on the website shortly. And she told me the story of her friend talking to the puppies. Her friend talked to the first male pup. She asked him what he would be like. He told her, "Oh, I'm going to be full of mischief! But I'll be friendly to people. I'm going to have a bit of a sensitive stomach, so I would love to go to someone who is familiar with holistic health."

Fabulous! - the breeder thought. This is Kim's dog!
Her friend asked the puppy, "Are you Gabriel?"
"NO!" the puppy said.
Hmm.
So on to the second pup. Again, the same questions about temperament, health, and so on. This pup said, "I'm going to love everyone and everything. My health is going to be really good! And I'm going to my new owner to be their 'Steady Eddie.'"

Almost holding her breath, the breeder asked her friend to ask the pup his name. She got silent, then rocked back on her heels a bit. And said...
"I see a tall, powerful brilliant being of Light." Both of the women awed, the breeder looked into his eyes, and asked, "Are you Gabriel?"
The pup responded with enthusiasm, "Yes! I am!"

The puppies' pictures were posted later that day. The only puppy in the litter looking directly at the camera - and into my heart - was Gabriel's. Underneath his picture were the words, "Hi! I'm Gabe, and I'm going to live with Kim in Idaho!"

Jesse was coming back to me.

Ah, but he just couldn't wait. A week or so before Gabe was shipped, I was on the floor with Libby, hugging and petting her. All of a sudden, I felt some motion coming at me. A little dark wiggling fluffball.

It was Gabriel. He had come to find me, because he just couldn't wait to see me. And to let me know he was on the way! When I e-mailed the breeder, letting her know that Gabe had already found us in Boise, she just laughed.
"Well," she said, "He certainly is YOUR dog!"

A week later, Gabriel truly arrived from New York. It was a long trip for a little pup, but there were no accidents in his crate at all. And he was SO tiny.

Meeting the "gang" was a little terrifying for him. In addition to Libby and Dillon, my friend had three small dogs. So it was a houseful! But within an hour, Gabe had met everyone, and wasn't afraid at all. The first night, Dillon lay next to Gabe's crate, letting him know he was all right. There wasn't a peep from him all night.

Things were still pretty rough for us, but Gabe was a bright shining light for me during dark times. I watched him, to see if I could see any of Jesse in him, but the biggest sense I had was that he was just having a marvelous puppy life. He was happy. No matter how I was feeling, he always lifted my spirits, able to make me laugh in the middle of crying.

The only time he was noisy was when he was really little, and I had to leave him to go and take care of the horses. He would get so upset, I finally stuffed him in a crate, and took him with me. He was quite astonished when one of my horses stuck his nose up to the door to see who was in there!

We went to a puppy class with a wonderful teacher who believed in only positive reinforcement. Gabe had the time of his life playing with all the other pups and learned quite a bit, but I think I learned more than he did! Oh, it was great fun, and when we would get home, Gabe would be (finally!) worn out, and slept like a log.

He loved playing with all his toys, and playing in my friend's waterfall in the backyard. Unlike Jesse, Gabe loved water. He would chase the hose around when you sprayed clean the deck, and just get sopping wet. He loved playing with Libby, even when he was a wee pup.

I tried to find a way for us out in Boise, but ultimately, it just didn't happen. I had originally wanted to live in northwest Montana, but I couldn't find a way to get there either. They say home is the place where they always take you in, and that is what happened. We all moved back to Michigan to live with my aunt. It wasn't what I would have liked to do, and I nearly drove myself over the edge before I asked to come back, but back we came. Again, I tried hard to be thankful, but things were still very difficult.

At least I had my beloved dogs and horses with me, and every day I give thanks for that. Gabe was six months old when we came back.

The morning after we returned, we took our first walk together, all four of us. Other than chewing on Libby and Dillon's leashes, Gabe went right down the road with us. (Boise was much too busy for all of us to walk together.)

When a car came along, I said the same thing I've told the dogs since I started walking. "Everybody get off the road!" Gabe veered off the road right along with Lib and Dillon, even though I had never told him that before. Coincidence? Maybe.

But at seven months old, he did something no other dog but Jesse would have done. Gabe and I took a trip into town, and I noticed my dad was at his building that the business had been in. So we stopped to say hi.

We went in and greeted Dad, and instead of leaping all over him, Gabe got a funny look on his face. He stepped forward, sat down in front of Dad, and lifted his right paw. Dad didn't see him do it, but I sure did.

Yes, I had taught Gabe to shake hands. But Gabe shakes with his LEFT paw. He's never lifted his right paw, not before this, and not after.

Gabe as a pup hadn't been like Jess at all about water. He loved it - until he turned a year old. All of a sudden, like flipping a switch, Gabe can't bear to get wet. He leaps over mud puddles. He looks disgusted if we walk in the rain.

But in some ways, I'm really glad Gabe isn't like Jesse. Gabe isn't afraid of lightning or storms. (In fact, he isn't afraid of much!) He'll go out in the dark. Guns going off don't bother him. And while Gabe loves to know where I am all the time, there are also times that he will go outside with Dillon and enjoy lying in the grass, watching over his kingdom. He knows I'm not going to leave him, and he doesn't worry about it. I'm glad he's that secure. He really knows this time that he's safe.

I wish he would do the rear end bounce or the fabulous grin, but he doesn't. He does do the Aussie wiggle, and loves to duck between your legs so he can get his britches scratched. He adores his ball and will play fetch with anyone who throws the ball. By the time he was six months old, he knew sit, down, sit pretty, drop, shake and wait - both verbally and with hand signals.

The most annoying thing Gabe does is watch television. Yes, television. When he was only 12 weeks old, he saw a fishing show. When the fisherman caught a fish and held it up, Gabe ran up and tried to lick the fish. Twice.

To this day, he goes crazy when he sees other animals on the screen, and barks at them. He even has the music memorized to some commercials that have animals in them, and when he hears the music, he runs to the television to bark. Sometimes he runs around to the back of the TV, to see if they are back there or not!

Smart, smart dog!

Oh, but I almost forgot. Last week, we were walking. Someone dumped a bag of trash in the road. And wouldn't you know it, Gabe stopped and peed all over it.

Gabriel, too, is a gift from God. He is, as my other "kids" are, a joy and a blessing. As he told the breeder, he is my "Steady Eddie." Unflappable. He, like Jesse, loves everyone and everything. It's impossible to keep from smiling around such a happy, happy dog.

Reiki Master/Teacher, and shamanic healingpractitioner/teacher. She considers her writing to be another form of healing work, as is the book "Journey Into Shaman's Land." In addition to her writing, she is a singer/songwriter with a CD of original folk music, and shares her life with her beloved dogs and horses.