Our family put food out when my father died. Very often we saw a dog come to eat it. At first we got annoyed, but then the village brahmin gave us sound advice. He said, “No, your father has taken the form of a dog and is eating the food.”
After that we used to be very moved whenever a dog came. I observed this at least six or seven times with tears in my eyes, thinking, “Oh, my father is eating.” The dog would eat the food, and I would look at the dog with such affection.
This was just a village custom, but we observed it for one month after my father died, and also after my mother died.From:Sri Chinmoy,Awakening, Citadel Press, Edinburgh, 1988
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