It's been a month since my last blog post, and in that time we lost our beautiful dog. If you like the vision of a rainbow bridge, that's where he has gone, but I know he is still around, just in a different dimension to us humans.
We knew it was coming. They say you know when it's time. We lost a beautiful dog, Blu, sixteen years ago and that was hard too. I'd had him pre MrH, so he was very special. I knew then. I looked into his eyes and it was time. I kept doing this with Bob. Just staring at him and he'd look back.....
'What's the matter with you, you daft thing. I'm still here'.
Then, a few days later, when I was working in the studio and he wandered in. He'd been resting outside under the archway of the gate where it was nice and cool. When he was sleeping he was quite calm and normal, but when he got up, he would be snorty, and I could hear him a mile off! In he came. Sat on the rug where I was laying out work for the exhibition, and he just looked at me.
My Heart Broke.
I knew in that moment that he had come in to tell me. My heart broke. He walked through into the treatment room, and out of the open french doors to drink from the bubbly bowl on the decking, and then back to his resting position. I cried.
I contacted my lovely friend who runs our local vets and scheduled his passing for the following day, here at home. This would give MrH time to get back from his 24hr shift at work.
I Slept With Him
He used to sleep upstairs on the floor in the bedroom and I could hear his breath. I knew when he had moved along the skirting board, or when he was in front of the wardrobe doors. In winter he would get onto the bed when it was really cold and sleep next to me. As his health deteriorated, he had taken to sleeping by the front door on the cool tiles, but I could still hear him as he had started to snore. The small tumour somewhere in his sinus area had caused him to be rather loud.
I couldn't let him spend his last night alone in the hall, so I slept on the sofa, in case he woke and started wandering needing a pee.
The next day he slowly walked around, as if to say goodbye to the garden he had spent his whole life enjoying. He slept. He ate anything he wanted, and waited for MrH to arrive. We were able to spend some time in the garden with him, and prepare ourselves.
The actual 'event' is just heartbreaking even though you know there is no other option. He was desperate to leave. The timing was right. I'm just thankful that we have the ability to do this for our beloved pets.
No Hole Digging This Time
Last time this happened, MrH dug a hole and buried our beautiful boy. Quite a cathartic, healing thing to do, but crikey it took all day! This time we decided to let him go with the vet, for an individual cremation. THAT was the hardest thing ever. I'm in tears typing this. I KNOW that it was just his body that was carefully placed in the back of their car, wrapped in his blanket with one of MrHs socks tucked under his head. I KNOW he is free from pain and his spirit is still around but in another energy field. BUT that doesn't make the grief any easier.
No More #SockTime
It's the small things. There will be no more 8pm sock time. Those of you who follow me on Instagram will know what I mean. There's no more sharing of watermelon in the morning, or placing the scrambled egg pan on the floor so he can eat the scrapings. No more staring at the green bean packet as I open the fridge, and no more barking if we sneeze.
The squirrels are free to roam across the decking, and Patrick and Patricia the pigeons can have romantic liaisons wherever they please without being chased off by a streak of Collie!
Each Day Is Less Raw
Each day is different. Less raw but still very empty. He's been with me every day for twelve years, except when we have been away - and that's not often. Little things catch me unawares, sending waves of intense sadness through me. It's my grief. Proper snotty grief.
I know we did the right thing. It's what pet owners must do. It's what we sign up for, but it doesn't make it any easier. I know it will ease as time moves along, and we have amazing memories. I'm sure there will be another little rugrat at some point to fill the void.
He's back with us in a scatter tube - I had no idea what to expect, and it's rather beautiful. So at the moment he is waiting in our dining room where I can see him every day, until we let him go up on the ridge line where we often walked.
A Montage of Loveliness
If you didn't see this on my Instagram, I put together a minute of his best bits - thank heavens for mobile phones and iclouds! For those who also knew him all his life, this is for you! He was such a welcoming soul to all my clients and friends.
RIP Bobby Boy. Our Lovely Lad.