In the space of one hour on Sunday 21st January 2018, life as we knew it came to an end.
At six o’clock I got up and began to make the usual morning preparations. I went into the bathroom and Purdey, my constant shadow, tried to follow me. She couldn’t – she had lost the use of her back legs. We cuddled her, we coaxed her, hoping against hope that this was just the morning aches and pains of an old dog. Then we called the emergency vet.
We took her to the surgery, not our usual one but an affiliate. The vet was kind, but a stranger to us. She stroked Purdey, listened to her heart, did a few tests. Her face told us the story. Yes, we could have prolonged the agony, given Purdey a few extra hours or a day, but the outcome would have been the same and we would have had to watch her struggle.
At seven o’clock we left the surgery without her. She was just three months shy of her 16th birthday, and she had been in our lives for fourteen and a half years. In that time se had turned our whole way of life upside down.
We now live in Sussex because of her. Because of her I embraced caravan holidays – a thing I swore I’d never do. She starred in a You-tube video (Rosemary and Angela thought they were the stars – they were wrong). She inspired me to write a book.
It’s too soon for happy memories, yet. Instead we have those micro-milliseconds of forgetting: checking for poo bags in my left-hand pocket; making sure that the dustbin is secure and that food is pushed back out of ‘furry nose range’; walking round her cushion, which is no longer there; opening the back door for her last thing at night. And then we remember, and remembering tears the heart out of us. But these are the worst times, and worst times eventually get better.
And she’s still with us. No, I don’t think she’s ‘watching over us’. I don’t believe she has ‘gone to a better place’ or that she’s ‘waiting at the rainbow bridge.’ But she’s there: in our hearts and our minds and our memories, and in that bubble of laughter when we turn to each other and say: ‘do you remember when she…’
So this is my tribute to Purdey. She was a dog. Some people will understand what a dog can mean to you, others not. So be it. She was pretty – everyone agreed on that. She was feisty and funny, wilful and affectionate, she was occasionally infuriating – and a terrible thief.
We loved her; we always will. That’s it.
Yes, she was the star…I never thought we were!
Somebody said to me once – about losing my father – “Grieve not that he is gone; only rejoice that he was…”
Big hug.
Thanks, Angela. My reply somehow got sent to Jessie by mistake, here it is: Thank you, Angela. I wouldn’t presume to compare our loss of Purdey with your loss of your father, but you do understand grief and celebration
A beautiful, charismatic dog! I loved reading about Purdey in your novel, and feel as if I knew her. I look forward to more stories. Perhaps joint authorship with Himself! Take care!
Thank you, Angela. I wouldn’t presume to compare our loss of Purdey with your loss of your father, but you do understand grief and celebration.(oops, sorry Jessie: this was meant for Angela!)
“In the great pattern of things you secure an A+ with regard to effort and hard work. Exactly where you confused me personally was in all the facts. You know, it is said, the devil is in the details… And that could not be much more true at this point. Having said that, allow me say to you what did deliver the results. Your writing can be rather persuasive and that is most likely why I am taking an effort to opine. I do not really make it a regular habit of doing that. Secondly, even though I can easily see the leaps in reasoning you come up with, I am not confident of just how you seem to unite your ideas which in turn make your final result. For the moment I will subscribe to your position but hope in the near future you actually connect the dots much better.”
If you are commenting specifically on this post, then facts don’t come in to it. If this is a general (and genuine) critique I would like to hear more.
I truly enjoy examining on this internet site, it has got wonderful posts. “Don’t put too fine a point to your wit for fear it should get blunted.” by Miguel de Cervantes.
Spires , 60 Sheffield Terrace, London W8 7NA, UK, +442078460126
Did you mean to send your address to this blog?