Bit of an emotional one this morning, as we took all the beagle’s assorted stuff to a local dog adoption centre for them to use with their dogs. Toys, food, baskets, bowls, medication – it all went – and it was heartwarming to see some of the stuff being put into active use before we had even left. Clearly, it will make a positive difference to the dogs there, and hopefully they will benefit from having some nice stuff ahead of being adopted into loving homes.
Back home to work off the emotional stress with a mighty gym workout and a bit of random sport on the TV. Superbikes (dull), cricket (slightly less dull), cycling (actually not dull at all today), and tennis (forced upon me and definitely the very most dull of all).
(Impressive serve speeds though.)
Want to help out with our local dog adoption centre, but don’t have dog stuff to donate? Give them some cash!
Click here for details on how to donate, or if you are a Snapscan user, here’s their QR code:
See?
Incidentally, I don’t find myself wanting to watch any football this evening, because it won’t improve my overall sport experience today. Gianni Infantino and his crappy tournament can voetsek.
Yeah. Today’s the day. But unfortunately it’s not a happy birthday this time around.
But we choose to remember the joyful moments, not the sad times.
I know I’ve shared a similar image from the same day a few months ago, but this does just capture the free spirit and the happiness of the family beagle.
Gazing out into the fresh air, Lady of all that she surveys (most of the South Atlantic out towards South America), ears flapping, happy, sturdy. Loving life.
It’s been a week, and while that’s nowhere near long enough for things to feel better, there are constant reminders of what we’re missing, which are making things even harder each time they happen.
But I said last week that you need to concentrate on the positives, and the fact that there are these constant reminders is testament to just what an important piece of the family our beagle was.
Each time the fridge is opened, each time some cheese or meat is cut, each time you grab a bit of biltong or some chips, you’re waiting for her to appear so that you can share a bit with her.
We had a braai on the weekend, which was a difficult one, because it was very much the beagle’s favourite thing. Four stages, lasting throughout the evening and into the next morning. First of all, the food prep, which, as described above, was always liable for a beagle tax. Then the cooking, because if you waited long enough and paid enough attention, something would somehow miraculously “fall” onto the floor to be quickly snaffled. Stage three: the braai dish would need thoroughly cleaning, once any leftovers had been put into the fridge. And then the following morning, when she would never come in from her morning ablutions, and you’d go out to find her sitting expectantly under the braai, waiting to have a nice long go at the – now cool enough – grid.
No-one barked at the gardener today. Not that she would ever go any further than just barking. Her bark was only just worse than her bite, in that she would never actually bite anyone, and her bark was merely enthusiastic and never more than that.
There was no-one to join us on our short walk around the neighbourhood this afternoon. Even when she was feeling rubbish, she still loved to snorf the road.
But while it’s all these little things that hurt each time you do them, because she’s not here to do them with you anymore, it’s more just the feeling of emptiness and quiet in the house that feels the most alien. I still come downstairs each morning expecting to be greeted with a smiling face and a wagging tail as I go into the kitchen, and it’s repeatedly been a completely shit start to every day when I realise that’s not going to happen, whether that’s as I wake up or as I open the kitchen door.
And while I can’t wait to feel better, I also don’t want to feel better, because it somehow seems like that means that I’m forgetting about her or letting her go. Even though I’m not ever going to forget, and I’m not ready to let go.
We had to say goodbye to our beagle last night. It was horrible. It still is. But the scan she had yesterday morning showed an aggressive spinal tumour, which wasn’t even visible 5 weeks ago, but which had grown and already spread to her lungs, and there was clearly no option of treatment or recovery. She’d not been well for a while with other stuff, but this was very sudden and unexpected.
We brought her back from the vet, and spent a last afternoon together at home. She lay on her favourite couch, she snorfed all around the back garden, she enjoyed copious amounts of chicken, biltong, and a lot of cheese. A lot of cheese. We all stayed with her all afternoon and gave her all the fuss she could have wanted.
And then we had to let her go. An absolutely devastating experience, but she deserved that respect and she deserved not to struggle or suffer.
It’s always so hard to deal with these things, and it’s important to concentrate on all the happy times we had together. Amongst many other things, I’ll always remember our long weekend walks on the beach in Agulhas – she was the best listener sitting on the rocks by the lagoon – and her ever-willing assistance with the crusts of my Butler’s pizzas.
It’s also worth pointing out that those few hours yesterday afternoon were merely a concentrated version of the life and the love that we had given her. And it wasn’t a one-way street (ok, to be fair, the cheese was): she was the most loving, understanding companion; incredibly gentle and endlessly patient, especially with the kids and their friends. Never judgmental, just always there with unconditional love and a little nuzzle as she slipped her head under your arm and onto your lap.
It was almost eleven years ago that Project Colin began. I wasn’t sure then, but she quickly worked her way into our hearts and lives (and the fridge whenever possible), and the house already feels incredibly empty without her. We’re devasted.
Of course, we have millions of photos and videos of her, but the one above is the one that hangs in the bar, and reminds us to take some time out once in a while, step back from the real world and just relax.
Not an actual beagle rollercoaster. Although that would be a sight, wouldn’t it?
But no.
Sadly, we’re still struggling with the beagle’s health. And the bigger problem is that no-one can decide exactly what is wrong with her. High temperature, lack of appetite, general floppiness – and yet all her tests keep coming back negative for everything.
She’s been spending time at the vets for the last couple of days, enjoying some lovely IV fluids and antibiotics while they poke and prod as necessary. I took her there this morning, and carried her in, such was her drowsy, weakened state. And when we went to pick her up this evening, the head vet explained to us just how worried they were about Colin’s condition. It was a sobering listen. And then she went to go and get the patient, and we were duly amazed at the perky, waggy-tailed dog that walked out from the back.
Eh?
And then when we got our beagle home, we offered her a piece from the rotisserie chicken (BBQ flavour), we’d got for the family dinner. Long story short, half the chicken (half our dinner) was gone in a few minutes. And some cheese. Some pork biltong. And then some other chicken purpose bought for – and previously ignored by – the beagle.
The first food she’s had in three days.
Right now, she’s contentedly snoring away on the couch next to me.
I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on. I just want her better.
