Stalker62
Well-Known Member
She came into my life a lifetime ago.
She was an English Springer Spaniel, and she was (they all are) beautiful.
She travelled the length and breadth of the country with me; hunting, shooting and fishing.
She saw us through house moves, family marriages, the births of Grandchildren, the loss of loves ones. She saw us through and shared with us, what life is - it's what dogs do.
A few years down the line, and we share our busy lives with her 'Nephew'. He sits here behind his 'Auntie'.
She loved the water and by God, she loved to swim, and she loved the beach.
She knew Dornoch very well - she sits here at my left boot.
Last year, as quite an elderly lady, we had a decision to make. She would benefit from a significant operation on her neck, but not every Vet. wanted to carry it out. She was elderly, she was getting on, and she may not survive it. One young Vet. said she would do it. It was no small thing.
Thanks to the skills of the young Vet., and the strength of this old dog, the 'old girl' made a remarkable recovery. The quality of her life was much enhanced and (even if only for a short while) extended by, almost, a year.
I was due in the Outer Hebrides in October, and the decision was made that the 'old girl' was perhaps a wee bit too frail to make the journey. She stayed over with family, and was doted on by the Grandchildren for perhaps the best two weeks of her life.
Tide and tide wait for no man.
It was becoming apparent that that is also true for dogs.
Both my wife and I knew what all dog 'owners' know - the chances are you will outlive them, and that, quite frankly, sucks.
Determined that she should, once again, feel the beach beneath her paws, I drove her to the nearest sandy bit of coast to us, and watched her, for the last time, frolic herself to a standstill.
She enjoyed Christmas and New Year - being spoiled rotten, both at home and locally with family - it could not last.
She began to lose strength in her back legs, and early in the year, she began to 'circle'.
She still enjoyed her food and she loved to 'wrestle' with the pup (who was always extraordinarily gentle with the 'old girl') - but my wife and I had taken to exchanging 'knowing' glances. We both knew what we were both thinking, but we neither of us said it out loud.
This Friday morning, my wife told me that the 'old girl' had started to sound 'chesty'. My wife had an appointment in the morning and so I was left in charge.
I too noticed the episodic laboured breathing. The fragility of her gait was becoming significant and (new) mild incontinence when I lifted her outside.
When my wife retuned home, she saw the tears in my eyes and she knew it was time. My wife made the phone call.
"I have spoken to the Vets. and they will see her at 5.30 pm".
I had 90 minutes to sort my life out, and get ready.
I tried and failed to get my contact lenses in. With the tears streaming down my face - no chance.
I put on some 'smart' clothes, and tried to look like a bloke in control. I failed.
I picked up the 'old girl', and sat her on my lap, (she was wearing her green 'dog coat' to keep the chill off), and my wife drove us off on that dreadful last journey.
My wife went into the Vets. and I waited in the car until we could be called to go straight through.
The Vet. (a young girl) was outstanding. She explained everything, was calm, patient and professional - she was also so very human.
She gave the 'old girl' an anaesthetic and within two minutes the 'old girl' fell asleep, with my wife stroking the dog's head and talking to her, and me stroking the dog's flank.
The Vet. and Nurse then came and administered the euthanasia dose. She had explained that even thought this would stop the 'old girl's' heart, there may well be one or two 'breaths' subsequently. It happened exactly as she said it would; and then my darling 'old girl' was in pain free peace.
It is said that a dog gives you the very best years of your life, and the very worst day.
This old girl gave us 14 years, 7 months and 11 days - I hope she enjoyed them as much as we did.
This morning I walked our two remaining dogs.
I put them back in the kennel and came inside to make my breakfast. Two slices of toast, half a grapefruit and a yoghurt. It's the same very day. I am very much a creature of habit.
This morning, the same as every morning for the past 14 years, 7 months and 11 days, I took the lid off the yoghurt and turned to offer it to the 'old girl' to lick.
There was no one there to take it.
Seems I still have some tears left to shed...
She was an English Springer Spaniel, and she was (they all are) beautiful.
She travelled the length and breadth of the country with me; hunting, shooting and fishing.
She saw us through house moves, family marriages, the births of Grandchildren, the loss of loves ones. She saw us through and shared with us, what life is - it's what dogs do.
A few years down the line, and we share our busy lives with her 'Nephew'. He sits here behind his 'Auntie'.
She loved the water and by God, she loved to swim, and she loved the beach.
She knew Dornoch very well - she sits here at my left boot.
Last year, as quite an elderly lady, we had a decision to make. She would benefit from a significant operation on her neck, but not every Vet. wanted to carry it out. She was elderly, she was getting on, and she may not survive it. One young Vet. said she would do it. It was no small thing.
Thanks to the skills of the young Vet., and the strength of this old dog, the 'old girl' made a remarkable recovery. The quality of her life was much enhanced and (even if only for a short while) extended by, almost, a year.
I was due in the Outer Hebrides in October, and the decision was made that the 'old girl' was perhaps a wee bit too frail to make the journey. She stayed over with family, and was doted on by the Grandchildren for perhaps the best two weeks of her life.
Tide and tide wait for no man.
It was becoming apparent that that is also true for dogs.
Both my wife and I knew what all dog 'owners' know - the chances are you will outlive them, and that, quite frankly, sucks.
Determined that she should, once again, feel the beach beneath her paws, I drove her to the nearest sandy bit of coast to us, and watched her, for the last time, frolic herself to a standstill.
She enjoyed Christmas and New Year - being spoiled rotten, both at home and locally with family - it could not last.
She began to lose strength in her back legs, and early in the year, she began to 'circle'.
She still enjoyed her food and she loved to 'wrestle' with the pup (who was always extraordinarily gentle with the 'old girl') - but my wife and I had taken to exchanging 'knowing' glances. We both knew what we were both thinking, but we neither of us said it out loud.
This Friday morning, my wife told me that the 'old girl' had started to sound 'chesty'. My wife had an appointment in the morning and so I was left in charge.
I too noticed the episodic laboured breathing. The fragility of her gait was becoming significant and (new) mild incontinence when I lifted her outside.
When my wife retuned home, she saw the tears in my eyes and she knew it was time. My wife made the phone call.
"I have spoken to the Vets. and they will see her at 5.30 pm".
I had 90 minutes to sort my life out, and get ready.
I tried and failed to get my contact lenses in. With the tears streaming down my face - no chance.
I put on some 'smart' clothes, and tried to look like a bloke in control. I failed.
I picked up the 'old girl', and sat her on my lap, (she was wearing her green 'dog coat' to keep the chill off), and my wife drove us off on that dreadful last journey.
My wife went into the Vets. and I waited in the car until we could be called to go straight through.
The Vet. (a young girl) was outstanding. She explained everything, was calm, patient and professional - she was also so very human.
She gave the 'old girl' an anaesthetic and within two minutes the 'old girl' fell asleep, with my wife stroking the dog's head and talking to her, and me stroking the dog's flank.
The Vet. and Nurse then came and administered the euthanasia dose. She had explained that even thought this would stop the 'old girl's' heart, there may well be one or two 'breaths' subsequently. It happened exactly as she said it would; and then my darling 'old girl' was in pain free peace.
It is said that a dog gives you the very best years of your life, and the very worst day.
This old girl gave us 14 years, 7 months and 11 days - I hope she enjoyed them as much as we did.
This morning I walked our two remaining dogs.
I put them back in the kennel and came inside to make my breakfast. Two slices of toast, half a grapefruit and a yoghurt. It's the same very day. I am very much a creature of habit.
This morning, the same as every morning for the past 14 years, 7 months and 11 days, I took the lid off the yoghurt and turned to offer it to the 'old girl' to lick.
There was no one there to take it.
Seems I still have some tears left to shed...
Last edited:
