Last Monday, we woke to a shock that still hasn’t settled in our hearts—we found Avión mysteriously dead. This, the morning after joyfully writing about our dogs in last week’s blog.
As always, Amy prepared breakfast for MaliNalli and Avión—they eat when we do. Mali, who sleeps indoors, was already waiting by her bowl. But Avión, our faithful watchdog who slept on the front porch, didn’t appear. He always came running. This time he didn’t come at all.
After a few uneasy minutes, our neighbor’s dog, Oso, showed up for his usual treat… but still no Avión.
Then I heard Amy cry out from the front, “He is dead! Avión is dead!”
My heart dropped. She had found him lying just outside our front gate.
Moments later, Oso seemed to reveal what might have happened. He trotted to a small opening in the fence on the steep hill beside our driveway and pushed his head under the chain-link. Avión was a master escape artist—our little Houdini—forever squeezing through tiny gaps to patrol the perimeter. It seems he may have tried slipping through that opening, become caught, and strangled.
I lifted him gently and laid him on our front porch table.
Amy sobbed. We ran our hands over his stiff body—no wounds, no bruises, no sign of violence. His tongue protruded slightly. We kept asking ourselves how this could have happened. Maybe someone found him earlier and moved him. Maybe something else occurred. Life in our village holds both kindness and cruelty; we’ve seen both.
Just the day before, I had taken all three dogs for a walk. Everything had been normal. And the night before, I had written about him and Mali—about Mali’s new portrait and Avión’s shy, soulful presence.
Today our hearts are heavy. We called him Avión—“airplane” in Spanish—because of the two big ears he stretched out like wings. He was our adopted “boy,” full of love, vulnerability, and quiet devotion. We rescued him as a terrified street puppy, and over time he became part of our family.
I posted a short tribute on Facebook yesterday. More than two thousand people responded. Their kindness helps, but the silence he has left behind is immense.
Life here in the village is raw and unpredictable. One moment everything is ordinary—the next, the world tilts. Losing Avión has reminded us, painfully, how fragile the beings we love truly are. But it has also reminded us of something deeper: that love, once given, does not end. It remains, like a quiet flame, illuminating even the darkest corners of our days.
Do animals continue on?
In the hours after burying him, I found myself asking a question I’ve never felt so urgently: Does a creature like Avión continue on in some way, as human souls do?
Across spiritual traditions, there are gentle yet meaningful hints that the answer may be yes.
In the Bahá’í writings, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá describes the animal kingdom as a sign of God’s perfection—beings who feel love, joy, loyalty, and sorrow. Creation, He says, does not simply vanish but transforms, and nothing that reflects divine qualities is lost.
The Hebrew scriptures remind us that humans and animals “share the same breath,” and humbly admit that no one truly knows the path of an animal’s spirit. Christian mystics wrote that animals return to the embrace of the One who fashioned them, because love is never wasted. Islam teaches that all creatures are “communities like you,” and that all will be gathered to God.
Eastern traditions speak openly of the continuity of animal consciousness beyond physical life.
And then there are the countless individuals who, in moments near death or deep vision, have spoken of meeting beloved animals again—whole, luminous, and free of fear.
I do not pretend to know the architecture of the next world. But I know this: Avión lived with love, and love is never extinguished. Whatever spark animated his gentle eyes and anxious heart came from a divine source. And what comes from that source, I believe, returns to it.
If there is a meadow of light in the next world, may he be running there now—ears spread like wings, finally free.
Here is our Xolo dog Mali and Avión (gold color) adopted from the street, during a happy time: