I’m not sure I have heard anyone say “it’s just a dog” for a very long time. We know now, how special they are. Dog loss is hard, sad, traumatic, shocking and it rips your heart right out of your chest.
Yesterday I was walking my crew around the paddock where Rosie is buried. My little Pom. It’s hard to think that she’s under there. I said as much, the reply came, “She’s not, she’s everywhere”. I replied, “she’s here” while putting my hand on my heart.
Pom had cancer and within 2 months of diagnosis she couldn’t breathe. The day she died the vet told me they could try and drain her lungs but with not a good prognosis.
I had promised no more messing. They said, “or you can have her put to sleep”. I felt like running with her in my arms. I physically backed off from the vet, a visceral response, automatic, desperate.
Pom was never really my dog, she was his dog, she loved him so much. Things got hard between us and there was tension, so much tension in the house. Pom all on her own decided I was the safest option. I made the decision to leave that space, mostly for her. She always looked so worried, she was always so sensitive to his movements and moods.
Chips didn’t care but I didn’t want to see little Rosie scared all the time – not in the last part of her life.
So I gathered her and Chips, and we left. He decided it was too hard to see her again, so I had to make the decision. Emotional safety for her, or access to him. I chose her emotional safety over leaving behind her true love.
We came here where she settled well. There was lots of grilled trout here, she liked that very much. I decided to bring her here when the owner of this house told her she would be so loved by so many. I had always thought she should have had a family, children around her, a bit of bustle in her home.
So we came. And she did for a while, for her last times.
Rosie explored around here in her buggy and sometimes running. She experienced children. And she slowed down to the point she was ready to stop.
It was 5am and when the vet told me what had to be done, I went out to the car with her. I called and called him, no answer. I made the decision on my own.
But she was surrounded by people and love when she died. I knew inside that it was the best thing for her, the only choice, no more suffering. Of course there's guilt, it's part of the process.
She was the kindest, sweetest little dog. Food obsessed, full of love, so very loved.
I remember when I met her, she was placed into my arms on a motorway service station from Silver Fox Dog Rescue, 150 miles from home, and she gave a little growl.
The first thing I said when I held her was “I already know she’s going to break my heart”.
And of course, years later, she did.
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