Anyone who has been through the loss of a beloved pet will know how difficult it is to cope with it.
The subject has been raised in the DogFriendly newsletter many times over the years and we felt it might help to share some of the moving and wonderful stories from our members. This is in no way meant to be a sad page, it is meant to be a celebration of the relationship we have with our dogs - past and present. When we lost our first dog many years ago, I was surprised how it affected me - more emotion than I ever expected. Someone sent me the "Rainbow Bridge" poem and it has been with me ever since: "Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... Author unknown..." |
Useful links
Blue Cross Pet Bereavement Helpline 0800 096 6606
|
We lost our beloved black Labrador called Louey in March 2014. I saw the litter of 9 puppies the day the they were born, he chose me at the age of 6 weeks, and we looked forward to having him with us for many years. I know everybody thinks their dog is special, but Louey was extraordinary, we elevated him to be an honorary human. He understood everything, training was absolutely minimal as he picked up any requests immediately. He just looked at us with his intelligent eyes as if to say, ok - fine - if that's what you want me to do I'll do it. My husband even practised mental telepathy with him, he could do it all. For a dog who not normally barked, to be told by telepathy that he had to bark 3 times to tell his Mum that Dad had landed safely at Heathrow, and for the dog to do just that was extraordinary! Louey only barked twice, but hey we can forgive such shortcoming, the poor dog couldn't count.
Well, our Louey was a one off, we knew that, but somehow we also felt as time went by, that he wouldn't make old bones. In September 2013 when he was only 7 years old he somehow got through to our innermost brain, telling my husband to take lots of photos of him as he wouldn't be around for much longer and me, he subconsciously advised to increase his pet insurance.
We both still don't know why we did it, but we did, we only questioned our actions after Louey had left us. We learnt 3 days before he was put to sleep that he had a huge brain tumour and that there was nothing that could be done. Up to the last he looked so healthy with his black shiny coat, and his wonderful knowing eyes.
It knocked us both sideways, there are no words which can describe the loss of a much loved pet. I truly didn't think I could survive without him, I slid into a deep depression, couldn't eat or sleep and spent a whole week just crying.
My husband and Louey's breeder got so worried thinking that I would make myself very ill, and they started a search for another dog.
So, 12 days after Louey went to sleep, (an extremely short time, I know) I was made to look at another Labrador, a yellow one this time, 2 years old, which had been beaten und starved and terribly neglected. I could see that he was skin and bones, a poor scrap of a dog, but I could also see that here was a dog who needed to be rescued and who desperately needed me. My goodness he was hard work at first, I virtually had no time to mourn for my Louey, my new boy Treacle needed all of my attention and bit by bit my love. I didn't think I could ever love another dog again, but 1 1/2 years later, we have a most wonderful dog, he has overcome all of his trauma and his fear, he just wants to love and be loved back. Our house is once again a HOME, we have a dog living and loving in it.
After his lenghtly tale, I can honestly advise to get another dog as soon as possible, there are so many dogs out there who need love, care, and a pack which they can call their own.
I hope this will help somebody.
Helga P.
Well, our Louey was a one off, we knew that, but somehow we also felt as time went by, that he wouldn't make old bones. In September 2013 when he was only 7 years old he somehow got through to our innermost brain, telling my husband to take lots of photos of him as he wouldn't be around for much longer and me, he subconsciously advised to increase his pet insurance.
We both still don't know why we did it, but we did, we only questioned our actions after Louey had left us. We learnt 3 days before he was put to sleep that he had a huge brain tumour and that there was nothing that could be done. Up to the last he looked so healthy with his black shiny coat, and his wonderful knowing eyes.
It knocked us both sideways, there are no words which can describe the loss of a much loved pet. I truly didn't think I could survive without him, I slid into a deep depression, couldn't eat or sleep and spent a whole week just crying.
My husband and Louey's breeder got so worried thinking that I would make myself very ill, and they started a search for another dog.
So, 12 days after Louey went to sleep, (an extremely short time, I know) I was made to look at another Labrador, a yellow one this time, 2 years old, which had been beaten und starved and terribly neglected. I could see that he was skin and bones, a poor scrap of a dog, but I could also see that here was a dog who needed to be rescued and who desperately needed me. My goodness he was hard work at first, I virtually had no time to mourn for my Louey, my new boy Treacle needed all of my attention and bit by bit my love. I didn't think I could ever love another dog again, but 1 1/2 years later, we have a most wonderful dog, he has overcome all of his trauma and his fear, he just wants to love and be loved back. Our house is once again a HOME, we have a dog living and loving in it.
After his lenghtly tale, I can honestly advise to get another dog as soon as possible, there are so many dogs out there who need love, care, and a pack which they can call their own.
I hope this will help somebody.
Helga P.
I grew up with dogs, so couldn't imagine life without them. My Son was severely disabled when he was born and having been brought up with Great Danes and poodles, and having Rottweilers myself, I wanted to get a small dog that could sit with him. That was when Belle came into our lives. She was a 9 week old black pug. The only puppy left and KC registered. The second night we had her home I stayed up all night with her as she wouldn't eat or drink, so I syringed water to her every few hours. The next day was the first trip of many over the next 3 months to the vet and specialists. First she had one eye removed, then by 5 months of age she had had both eyes removed. I was told not to move furniture around, which was impossible with all the equipment I had for my Son, and nobody was sure how she'd get on.
It was like she had a new lease of life. Obviously free of pain, she was into everything and full of life. Nothing ever phased her. She'd jump on the chairs and on my Sons bed (her happy place tucked in safely beside him) and took blind leaps of faith to get down. She was fully toilet trained within 2 weeks of having her (despite all her operations and medication) and new exactly where the back door was and her way down the path to the grass. If we tried to barricade anything or anywhere to stop her going there, she would just climb over it or bulldoze it down. She'd get into all sorts of mischief the minute my back was turned and sit down immediately I returned as though to say 'it wasn't me', yet do it again the minute she thought I wasn't there. It was hard to believe she didn't have any eyes.
A year later we brought home Missy, another black pug (having done a lot more research on the breed). Missy was much smaller than Belle (whom we called the bulldozer), but was aptly named, as she was a little Miss, and the boss. The girls adored each other and were like my shadows. Belle stayed on her lead when we went for walks, but even on holidays she found her way to the doors within minutes to ask to go to toilet. Two years after that we got Barney, a fawn pug of 7 months. The girls were in charge but the 3 of them were inseparable, except the times Belle deserted them to lay happily with my Son.
When Missy was 7, she began to wobble on her back legs. She was referred to a specialist and they discovered she had a rare arachnoid cyst on her spine. We monitored her for a few months but the decision was made to operate. It felt like the end of the world, but she came through the operation and then it was another torturous week while she recovered and had physio before she could come home. We did her exercises several times a day and took her for underwater treadmill therapy twice a week. For a few months she seemed to be improving. Then she began to get worse. She loved her walks so much and I knew I had to phone the specialists again when she barely managed to walk 50 yards before I had to carry her.
I went to see them and a MRI scan was arranged for the following week. With a lump in my throat and choking back the tears I managed to mumble some words about what to do if the result was not good. The specialist knew what I was trying to say. We took her home and I showered her with love. My heart broke but I tried my best not to show it. A week later, having been sedated for the MRI, the decision was made not to wake her up. My world fell apart. It felt like I couldn't breathe. The specialists had details of a pet funeral service. I couldn't bear the thought of her being 'thrown away', neither did I want her buried in the garden if I ever moved. That was the first time I met Alan of Pet Undertakers in Fair Oak Hampshire. He was the most wonderful, caring and understanding man. He collected Missy and took her to their chapel of rest. She was cremated and brought home to me the next day.
Just 3 months later I took Belle to the vet, having found a small lump on her leg. She had been unusually quiet, but I thought she was as sad as I was. I was told to keep an eye on the lump for any changes. I checked it every day. One minute it was there the next I couldn't feel it. 2 weeks later I took her back and told the vet. She looked concerned and said it sounded like an aggressive form of cancer. The lump was so small, yet they would need to remove most of the tissue in her leg. I wasn't overly concerned as I knew my Belle was a strong girl who had been through so much and she had me to do whatever was needed. The phone rang the afternoon of her operation. It was the vet and I was excited to know when I could go and get her. Then the news came. She had sailed through the operation, then on recovery, her blood pressure had dropped and they lost her. I went numb. I put the phone down and immediately phoned Alan. My mum and dad took me to the vet to collect Belle and I wrapped her in a blanket and brought her home. Alan was there within minutes and placed her in the dog basket he carries and took her to the chapel of rest. Again she was home with me the next day. Alan thoughtfully had clipped some of both the girls fur and gave it to me. At my request he had also taken some of their ashes before they went in their beautiful little caskets and arranged for them to be sent to ashes to glass. Both the girls have beautiful paperweights on their caskets scattered with their ashes and I also have a pendant and ring so that part of them are with me always.
That was almost 4 years ago and although the tears are not as frequent, they still come hard and the pain is just as raw. Barney felt their loss as much as I did, and I'd sit holding him tightly finding comfort in each other. He has 2 new friends now, a chihuahua and a French Bulldog. They brought new life to him, although he chooses his mum over all, and we still have our special cuddles.
Nothing eases the loss or pain, but Alan treated the girls with the same understanding and respect as any other member of the family . He himself regards them as family. It meant the world to me.
He wrote a card to me with simple words that said everything - 'grief is the price we pay for love'
Despite all the why's, what if's, sometimes desperation, certainly heartbreak, the greatest act of love we can show our loving, loyal, companions is to not let them suffer for our own selfish reasons of never wanting to let go
Sarah B
It was like she had a new lease of life. Obviously free of pain, she was into everything and full of life. Nothing ever phased her. She'd jump on the chairs and on my Sons bed (her happy place tucked in safely beside him) and took blind leaps of faith to get down. She was fully toilet trained within 2 weeks of having her (despite all her operations and medication) and new exactly where the back door was and her way down the path to the grass. If we tried to barricade anything or anywhere to stop her going there, she would just climb over it or bulldoze it down. She'd get into all sorts of mischief the minute my back was turned and sit down immediately I returned as though to say 'it wasn't me', yet do it again the minute she thought I wasn't there. It was hard to believe she didn't have any eyes.
A year later we brought home Missy, another black pug (having done a lot more research on the breed). Missy was much smaller than Belle (whom we called the bulldozer), but was aptly named, as she was a little Miss, and the boss. The girls adored each other and were like my shadows. Belle stayed on her lead when we went for walks, but even on holidays she found her way to the doors within minutes to ask to go to toilet. Two years after that we got Barney, a fawn pug of 7 months. The girls were in charge but the 3 of them were inseparable, except the times Belle deserted them to lay happily with my Son.
When Missy was 7, she began to wobble on her back legs. She was referred to a specialist and they discovered she had a rare arachnoid cyst on her spine. We monitored her for a few months but the decision was made to operate. It felt like the end of the world, but she came through the operation and then it was another torturous week while she recovered and had physio before she could come home. We did her exercises several times a day and took her for underwater treadmill therapy twice a week. For a few months she seemed to be improving. Then she began to get worse. She loved her walks so much and I knew I had to phone the specialists again when she barely managed to walk 50 yards before I had to carry her.
I went to see them and a MRI scan was arranged for the following week. With a lump in my throat and choking back the tears I managed to mumble some words about what to do if the result was not good. The specialist knew what I was trying to say. We took her home and I showered her with love. My heart broke but I tried my best not to show it. A week later, having been sedated for the MRI, the decision was made not to wake her up. My world fell apart. It felt like I couldn't breathe. The specialists had details of a pet funeral service. I couldn't bear the thought of her being 'thrown away', neither did I want her buried in the garden if I ever moved. That was the first time I met Alan of Pet Undertakers in Fair Oak Hampshire. He was the most wonderful, caring and understanding man. He collected Missy and took her to their chapel of rest. She was cremated and brought home to me the next day.
Just 3 months later I took Belle to the vet, having found a small lump on her leg. She had been unusually quiet, but I thought she was as sad as I was. I was told to keep an eye on the lump for any changes. I checked it every day. One minute it was there the next I couldn't feel it. 2 weeks later I took her back and told the vet. She looked concerned and said it sounded like an aggressive form of cancer. The lump was so small, yet they would need to remove most of the tissue in her leg. I wasn't overly concerned as I knew my Belle was a strong girl who had been through so much and she had me to do whatever was needed. The phone rang the afternoon of her operation. It was the vet and I was excited to know when I could go and get her. Then the news came. She had sailed through the operation, then on recovery, her blood pressure had dropped and they lost her. I went numb. I put the phone down and immediately phoned Alan. My mum and dad took me to the vet to collect Belle and I wrapped her in a blanket and brought her home. Alan was there within minutes and placed her in the dog basket he carries and took her to the chapel of rest. Again she was home with me the next day. Alan thoughtfully had clipped some of both the girls fur and gave it to me. At my request he had also taken some of their ashes before they went in their beautiful little caskets and arranged for them to be sent to ashes to glass. Both the girls have beautiful paperweights on their caskets scattered with their ashes and I also have a pendant and ring so that part of them are with me always.
That was almost 4 years ago and although the tears are not as frequent, they still come hard and the pain is just as raw. Barney felt their loss as much as I did, and I'd sit holding him tightly finding comfort in each other. He has 2 new friends now, a chihuahua and a French Bulldog. They brought new life to him, although he chooses his mum over all, and we still have our special cuddles.
Nothing eases the loss or pain, but Alan treated the girls with the same understanding and respect as any other member of the family . He himself regards them as family. It meant the world to me.
He wrote a card to me with simple words that said everything - 'grief is the price we pay for love'
Despite all the why's, what if's, sometimes desperation, certainly heartbreak, the greatest act of love we can show our loving, loyal, companions is to not let them suffer for our own selfish reasons of never wanting to let go
Sarah B
In September 2015 we lost our beloved Apricot Standard Poodle Fraggle. He was only ten and a half years old. In March whilst we were away celebrating our Golden Wedding, Fraggle who was staying with friends, took ill. He was in the vets on a drip for 3 days. On our return we had numerous blood tests done on him. The tests indicated a cancer somewhere but without lots of tests we would not know where. We were not prepared to put him through any operations or chemotheraphy and so decided to keep him comfortable and when the time came for the big Goodbye we would say it knowing that he had been loved greatly all his life and that we would not let him suffer any pain.
About four days before he died I came down in the morning to find that he had been sick and had done the splits in it and was unable to get up. I got him to his feet and took him out. He was very weak, presumably from struggling to get up all night. He didn’t want to eat but I let him lay in the study where he could be on carpet so that he would have traction if he wanted to get up. Over the next three days he got steadily weaker although not in any pain. On the day he died he realised that we were going down to our fields where he loved to play with our other poodle Kai. Fraggle managed to get to his feet unaided and presented himself at the back of the car demanding to get in. We took him to the field where he asked to get out. It was a lovely day and he stood swaying but looking intently at one spot in the field. Once he realised that we had seen where he was looking he asked to get back into the car. That evening when I tried to get him up to go outside to toilet he just collapsed down again and slipped peacefully away. Next day he was buried in the field on the spot he indicated. We were all devasted to have lost him so young. We got him at 7 months old after meeting his breeder at Crufts with his father and grandfather. We were not in a position to take on a baby puppy but instantly fell in love with Fraggle. He was the easiest dog to train. Travelling everywhere with us including hotels trains and escalators. He adored everyone human and canine. We were so lucky that in all the dogs we have had he was only the third one to die peacefully on his own.
In over 50 years we have probably been lucky enough to have that many dogs. From our first crossbreed taken from home when we got married who died naturally aged 17 years. We fell in love with Rottweilers, then a rare breed. Our oldest, Blossom, was put down aged 14 years. I bred and showed then for 16 years then after all the bad publicity found Wire Haired dachshunds. We bred and showed then for over 20 years and have 7 of them buried in the garden. Starting with Grandpa Wally, his wife Maisie, their daughter Maud and her 3 sons, Mungo ( ours sons dog), Malcolm ( our daughters dog) and our beloved Teddy, the final one being Teddy’s great granddaughter Mavis. All in order, all facing the next and all put down peacefully at home. I was always the one to hold them, my hand by their nose so they could smell me and although so sad to lose them I would not have missed owning a single one of them. The love and companionship they brought and the people they put us in contact with are treasured memories.
We were supposed to be sensible and wait till spring for a new puppy but we lasted 5 weeks! We are now the proud owners of the monster that is Romi. A white one like Kai. They look so alike but are complete polar opposites. Kai was very withdrawn and lonely without Fraggle. It took him about 8 weeks to get used to Romi but now they are the best of friends and Kai is teaching Romi how to be a good boy ( I hope!!)
I know it is so devastating to lose a beloved dog. I feel each one as keenly as anyone but I could not be without my dogs. When I get too old for my poodles I plan on having a Pomeranian.
Sue and Derek R
About four days before he died I came down in the morning to find that he had been sick and had done the splits in it and was unable to get up. I got him to his feet and took him out. He was very weak, presumably from struggling to get up all night. He didn’t want to eat but I let him lay in the study where he could be on carpet so that he would have traction if he wanted to get up. Over the next three days he got steadily weaker although not in any pain. On the day he died he realised that we were going down to our fields where he loved to play with our other poodle Kai. Fraggle managed to get to his feet unaided and presented himself at the back of the car demanding to get in. We took him to the field where he asked to get out. It was a lovely day and he stood swaying but looking intently at one spot in the field. Once he realised that we had seen where he was looking he asked to get back into the car. That evening when I tried to get him up to go outside to toilet he just collapsed down again and slipped peacefully away. Next day he was buried in the field on the spot he indicated. We were all devasted to have lost him so young. We got him at 7 months old after meeting his breeder at Crufts with his father and grandfather. We were not in a position to take on a baby puppy but instantly fell in love with Fraggle. He was the easiest dog to train. Travelling everywhere with us including hotels trains and escalators. He adored everyone human and canine. We were so lucky that in all the dogs we have had he was only the third one to die peacefully on his own.
In over 50 years we have probably been lucky enough to have that many dogs. From our first crossbreed taken from home when we got married who died naturally aged 17 years. We fell in love with Rottweilers, then a rare breed. Our oldest, Blossom, was put down aged 14 years. I bred and showed then for 16 years then after all the bad publicity found Wire Haired dachshunds. We bred and showed then for over 20 years and have 7 of them buried in the garden. Starting with Grandpa Wally, his wife Maisie, their daughter Maud and her 3 sons, Mungo ( ours sons dog), Malcolm ( our daughters dog) and our beloved Teddy, the final one being Teddy’s great granddaughter Mavis. All in order, all facing the next and all put down peacefully at home. I was always the one to hold them, my hand by their nose so they could smell me and although so sad to lose them I would not have missed owning a single one of them. The love and companionship they brought and the people they put us in contact with are treasured memories.
We were supposed to be sensible and wait till spring for a new puppy but we lasted 5 weeks! We are now the proud owners of the monster that is Romi. A white one like Kai. They look so alike but are complete polar opposites. Kai was very withdrawn and lonely without Fraggle. It took him about 8 weeks to get used to Romi but now they are the best of friends and Kai is teaching Romi how to be a good boy ( I hope!!)
I know it is so devastating to lose a beloved dog. I feel each one as keenly as anyone but I could not be without my dogs. When I get too old for my poodles I plan on having a Pomeranian.
Sue and Derek R
I would love to take the opportunity to tell you about our lovely boy Monty, a Jack Russell terrier who we lost last March but who is forever in our hearts.
We adopted Monty at the age of six from a kennels that fostered dogs, he got on well with our female Jack, Polly and brought us so much pleasure over the next ten years. He was well traveled too; we took him to California when we relocated for a year.
In the summer of 2014 we noticed that Monty was really slowing down and we bought a pushchair for him. To start with he would only let us put him in it when he was really tired, by the end of the year he spent most of his time in there when we were out on a walk. My husband Paul would take him off to a coffee shop, bask in the sunshine while Monty dozed, and I took our two girls for a longer walk.
We normally have a few weeks away in the winter abroad as we have a great kennels near us that look after the dogs well but we knew that the winter of 2014 could well be our last with the old boy so we took off in our caravan for a fortnight so we could keep the dogs with us. Monty was having problems by this time, he was constantly on Metacam for his arthritis and was becoming confused.
At the start of 2015 things gradually started failing with Monty. His sight was going as was his hearing, his mind would wander and he didn’t know where he was, we were unable to take him off the lead because we had to keep him very close to us otherwise he would wander off. His organs followed soon, the last straw was when he was unable to hold himself up when he needed to make a deposit, and that was heart-breaking to see.
There comes a point when you know that your pet no longer has any quality of life. His body could potentially have carried on for a few more months but in himself he had lost the will to go out at all, he was obviously in pain and very confused. We took the decision to let him go and it was the hardest day of my life, far worse that the loss of either of my parents.
We had talked before about bringing him home and burying him in the wood by us because he loved the walk but when it came to it we could not bring ourselves to do that, it was so hard to let him go we couldn’t face carrying him home. Even putting him in a cask and having him at home didn’t inspire us, we wanted to remember him running across the sand with his ears flapping, loving life.
Having made that decision though it was so difficult to stay upbeat, we both felt incredibly guilty for letting him go, could he have had any more days with us but we know that was for our peace of mind, not in his best interest. We both dealt with it in different ways, Paul broke down outside the vets and couldn’t stop sobbing for a while, after that he found it easier to cope. I on the other hand held it together then but spent the next month bursting into tears any time anyone mentioned his name.
Because we work at a caravan park and Monty passed away before the start of the season we had to go through the first month of everyone arriving back explaining that he was no longer with us. It did get easier the more I talked about him, after a couple of months I could at least keep a dry eye but just occasionally someone would catch me unawares and I would have to excuse myself to have a quiet sob in the corner.
I think I can safely say that it took the best part of the season before I could speak about him without getting a lump in my throat and even now writing this, tears are streaming down my face.
As we didn’t bring him home we thought about getting some kind of memorial to put outside but found the ones online just not right for us. When my brother in America lost his beloved boxer he bought a wind chime in his memory with his name engraved on it. That was more in my line but I couldn’t find it in the UK. Instead we had a small plaque made with his name and dates and that now hangs over the mantelpiece. We also found a small silver Jack Russell badge and that comes with us in our newly acquired motorhome so that Monty can see everything the girls can as well.
At the end of 2014 we had managed to get all three dogs in the pushchair and a great picture of all three of them (in focus for once) and we had that made into a wheel cover for our car. Another way of taking Monty with us at all times.
We love our two girls, Whisky is a miniature Jack and Poppy a Yorkie (both rescued) but we will always have a special place in our heart for our old boy.
Annette P
We adopted Monty at the age of six from a kennels that fostered dogs, he got on well with our female Jack, Polly and brought us so much pleasure over the next ten years. He was well traveled too; we took him to California when we relocated for a year.
In the summer of 2014 we noticed that Monty was really slowing down and we bought a pushchair for him. To start with he would only let us put him in it when he was really tired, by the end of the year he spent most of his time in there when we were out on a walk. My husband Paul would take him off to a coffee shop, bask in the sunshine while Monty dozed, and I took our two girls for a longer walk.
We normally have a few weeks away in the winter abroad as we have a great kennels near us that look after the dogs well but we knew that the winter of 2014 could well be our last with the old boy so we took off in our caravan for a fortnight so we could keep the dogs with us. Monty was having problems by this time, he was constantly on Metacam for his arthritis and was becoming confused.
At the start of 2015 things gradually started failing with Monty. His sight was going as was his hearing, his mind would wander and he didn’t know where he was, we were unable to take him off the lead because we had to keep him very close to us otherwise he would wander off. His organs followed soon, the last straw was when he was unable to hold himself up when he needed to make a deposit, and that was heart-breaking to see.
There comes a point when you know that your pet no longer has any quality of life. His body could potentially have carried on for a few more months but in himself he had lost the will to go out at all, he was obviously in pain and very confused. We took the decision to let him go and it was the hardest day of my life, far worse that the loss of either of my parents.
We had talked before about bringing him home and burying him in the wood by us because he loved the walk but when it came to it we could not bring ourselves to do that, it was so hard to let him go we couldn’t face carrying him home. Even putting him in a cask and having him at home didn’t inspire us, we wanted to remember him running across the sand with his ears flapping, loving life.
Having made that decision though it was so difficult to stay upbeat, we both felt incredibly guilty for letting him go, could he have had any more days with us but we know that was for our peace of mind, not in his best interest. We both dealt with it in different ways, Paul broke down outside the vets and couldn’t stop sobbing for a while, after that he found it easier to cope. I on the other hand held it together then but spent the next month bursting into tears any time anyone mentioned his name.
Because we work at a caravan park and Monty passed away before the start of the season we had to go through the first month of everyone arriving back explaining that he was no longer with us. It did get easier the more I talked about him, after a couple of months I could at least keep a dry eye but just occasionally someone would catch me unawares and I would have to excuse myself to have a quiet sob in the corner.
I think I can safely say that it took the best part of the season before I could speak about him without getting a lump in my throat and even now writing this, tears are streaming down my face.
As we didn’t bring him home we thought about getting some kind of memorial to put outside but found the ones online just not right for us. When my brother in America lost his beloved boxer he bought a wind chime in his memory with his name engraved on it. That was more in my line but I couldn’t find it in the UK. Instead we had a small plaque made with his name and dates and that now hangs over the mantelpiece. We also found a small silver Jack Russell badge and that comes with us in our newly acquired motorhome so that Monty can see everything the girls can as well.
At the end of 2014 we had managed to get all three dogs in the pushchair and a great picture of all three of them (in focus for once) and we had that made into a wheel cover for our car. Another way of taking Monty with us at all times.
We love our two girls, Whisky is a miniature Jack and Poppy a Yorkie (both rescued) but we will always have a special place in our heart for our old boy.
Annette P