Death of a dog

Its a beautful day outside. From my writing window I look across the Tasman Bay towards the mountains which are outlined so sharply in the early morning light and I am finding it hard to settle into my study  wandrite. But that is not the only reason.  Three days ago I returned from Pohara over in Golden Bay where I thought i would be able to spend two weeks with my dogs, taking long walks with them and in the evenings as they sat comfortably beside me on the bed, I could write. It didnt turn out quite that way.

Life never does what you expect.

I have a very old dog, Pippa and have had her since she was a puppy,  which is now 14 years….and never having had a husband or a relationship last that long, this loving, most faithful and incredibly loyal animal was so very precious to me. It was on the 5th day of this holiday when I realised that my Pippa had lost all the joy from her life. A usual trip to the beach had me lifting her out of the car and onto the sand, only to have her look up at me and plead to be put back into the car.

I always said that when the joy went from her eyes, it would be my task to put her to sleep. The time had come. Despite knowing it eventually would, i felt so unready…so unprepared and so devastated.

I returned immediately to Nelson, the vet came the next day and surrounded my friends, Pippa died in my arms.

Someone once asked me why grief is so heavy and I dont know, but I feel it, yet at the same time I dont seem to be standing on any firm ground. nothing looks familiar any more. I feel a stranger in my own home.

My Pippa has taught me many things about life, in particular how we dont need a common language  to understand each other but most importantly, how to love unequivocably and unashamedly.