No one has loved me as purely and unconditionally as my dogs. They were always so completely happy to see me, no matter how long I’d been away, or what mood I’d been in when I left. We farewelled Jasper in March 2012 and sadly today, we had to say our goodbyes to our beloved Gilly.
Rest in Peace my beloved friends.
Eternally missed – eternally loved.
Beauty and Elegance, Love and Devotion
Dear Beth,
you’ve been gone for 16 weeks. 16 weeks today.
I don’t care what the date was, I’ll always know it was a Thursday. I was there when the phone rang at 5.30am, wrenching us from sleep with an instant knowing that something was wrong. No one rings at that hour. Blinking my eyes quickly I saw my beloved standing in the doorway, her face horrified, clutching her chest in disbelief, yelling at Dad. I sat up, my heart was pounding and tried to make my ears work properly. This isn’t real, I can’t be hearing right, it’s a dream, I’m having a nightmare, a night terror. I tried again to wake up, shook my head, blinked, slapped my own face. She sat on the edge of the bed pale and stunned. Dad’s words repeated through the speaker-phone, his voice reduced to a small, husky choke. You were gone.
Just like that.
We farewelled you the next Thursday in an overcrowded chapel. I keep hoping I’ll wake one Thursday and it will be different. It’s crazy-making. My mind knows you died but my heart still holds you alive. Sometimes my heart and mind argue and I’m caught in the middle.
My mind knows you’re gone. I was there when they carried your body away. We all huddled together and I said a prayer. As your body left your house I asked you to stay in our hearts. And you did. My heart still holds you alive, tricking me, replaying your voice, your laugh, causing me to take a second hopeful look at ladies lunching in town before it sinks again. Oh, that’s right…
Some days I go along fine, I talk to you and think of you or point out lovely things to you when I’m window shopping. My throat doesn’t hurt, my heart isn’t heavy and I can miss you with pure thankfulness and love, grateful for you being part of my life.
But not today.
Today is one of those days.
They come regularly, privately, suddenly.
I miss you deeply. I long to hear from you. My throat hurts and my stomach tightens. Parts of me feel like they physically peel back as tears well up from nowhere. They’re not from nowhere though. They’re from deep within, in a sacred heart space where we shared warmth and joy and love together, laughter, a knowing look, an understanding, a great respect. Now you’re gone that space echoes without you. Why do the tears start? I don’t know, they just come on at random times, as uninvited and impossible to stop as a sneeze.
I didn’t realise how much I loved you. I feel foolish now that I didn’t show you enough. I hope you recognised what I couldn’t see. Next week I’ll go to that new fabric shop I passed near the bakery and I’ll show you around. There are some really nice table runners in there I know you’ll like… Maybe I’ll buy some handkerchiefs. x x x
Jasper - our beloved friend and companion
Jasper is 13, she’s doddery now and losing herself. It’s time to say goodbye. The decision does not rest lightly or come easily. It brings a sore and rising lump to my throat.
We spent some time by the river after work yesterday. It is a place we’d regularly visit when we lived much closer. She loves the grassy banks and running between us. Finding a dead fish to roll in is always a bonus in her mind. It’s our last outing with her. It seemed right to revisit this place one last time. It was so good to see her being bouncy again, even just briefly.
This afternoon she closed her eyes for the last time. It was painless but so quick. We’ve known it for a while and have wrestled and agonised over the the decision. When do we draw the line – how far do we let her decline before we balance kindness and cruelty? What if we get it wrong? It is an awful place. I wonder if she sees it in my eyes. We’re bereft yet again. She is one of our best and closest friends. And now she’s gone.
Here she is lounging all over our bed on her back, head twisted one way and legs another, completely content. I’ve always been amazed how such a little dog can take up so much room. I routinely wake up clinging to a small strip along the edge of the bed while she snores on, loudly. I’m sure she believes it is actually her queen sized bed which she graciously allows us to share each night. I will miss her. I will miss her love, her softness, her company, her smell, her funny little ways. Her unwavering and totally unconditional love.
She’s stolen biscuits, dug holes in the garden, chewed my written notes, eaten my watchband, been proud of finding something smelly to roll in and is ridiculously possessive of her paws. She hides socks, eats only one of each pair of shoes and thinks she owns whatever she can see. She has unzipped countless bags and rummaged around in the contents. She thinks custom dental mouthguards are tasty chew toys. She hates anyone who wears all black clothing and her favourite toy is a stuffed wombat. She goes crazy after a bath running laps around the house almost digging up the carpet for grip. On walks she waits until we approach someone before she stops to cough and splutter dramatically, trying to convince people we’re choking her. She loves to have the wind in her face during a car trip, her elbow neatly cocked out of the window. Whenever she hurts her neck she seeks me out and shows me where to rub it. She licks her paws until we yell at her and then licks them some more. She insists on rubbing her face on the carpet. She stamps and sneezes with indignation if breakfast is late. She leaves her wet nose marks along the bottom of my windows.
She is always pleased to see me when I get home and greets me like a long lost best friend: every day. She’s seen me at my worst yet never judged me. She has no pat answers. I trust her with all my secrets and she loves me. She’s been there as a quiet comforter when I’ve been ill, snuggling closer she’s content to spend a day in bed with me as I recover. She’s cleaned my face of tears when I’ve been wracked in anguish. She’s happy just to be around me, whatever I might be doing. She’ll follow me from room to room just to make a nest while I work. She says very little, but her constant presence with me is more precious than any conversation.
I want to get this right, make sure we’re not keeping her too long but don’t want to rob her of life prematurely. I don’t want her to go but I don’t want her to suffer. Urgh – there is that lump in the throat again. We will hold her right to the end and hold her in our hearts much longer.
Goodbye my Beauty and elegance. I love you and will miss you desperately.
