02/28/2026
Saheli Godiva
This May she would have turned fifteen.
In some places, animals are considered property.
In others, they are sacred.❤️
To us, Saheli was never just a pet.
She was something holy. A presence. A teacher. A quiet guide sent ahead of us to prepare our hearts.
Her name — Saheli — means “best friend” in Hindi. But even that feels too small.
She was companion, witness, protector, and guru.
After ten long years of trying to conceive, of hoping and waiting and wondering, we were told what so many are told: either sign adoption papers or get a dog. We got Saheli.
She came to us at just eight weeks old — tiny, soft, and completely certain of her place in our lives.
And over the next year, she began her work.
She taught us how to care for someone before ourselves. How to wake in the night. How to worry. How to rush in panic when she devoured Valentine’s Day chocolate. How to sit in vet offices after she swallowed socks… and a duck.
She taught us devotion. Responsibility. Vigilance. Patience.
Without us realizing it, she was shaping us into parents.
And when our hearts were finally ready, she brought us our triplets.
Once they arrived, they joined her on the teaching staff.
The four of them — united — lovingly outnumbered us.
Together they showed us what it means to be human.
They taught us how to delight in small things.
How to live on the floor. How to laugh loudly. How to forgive quickly. How to love without measure.
Saheli let little hands tug at her ears and tail. She allowed herself to be climbed on, leaned against, and claimed.
Through her gentleness she modeled something profound — say yes when you can. Let go of what doesn’t matter. Stay present. Love without condition.
As this chapter of parenthood gently shifts, we find ourselves holding both unbearable heartbreak and immeasurable gratitude.
How do you say goodbye to the one who taught you how to love your children before they ever arrived?
In our Hindu tradition, we honor the passing of a soul with last rites. I have been told that the soul of an animal is different — lighter, unattached, not lingering. It does not wander. It moves forward swiftly into its next incarnation, unburdened.
There is comfort in believing she has already begun again.
Today we said goodbye to her physical form. Her ashes will be scattered in the Suwannee River, joining other beloved family members — returning her to the current, to the sacred flow of life that never truly ends.
This week, we remembered. We held her close. We gave thanks.
Our Saheli.🌈Our first baby.🌈Our teacher.🌈Our forever friend. 🤍
