It’s been 3 weeks since I lost my girl. My best little girl.
She came to me nearly 10 years ago. At 20 months old and 23 kg she “didn’t want to chase” according to her rescuer. Timid, fearful around certain types of men, afraid of loud noises, yet sassy and affectionate when she got to know you. She was the racing industry’s trash but she was my treasure. She did not have to win money to earn her keep with us. Her value was in her love and companionship, her goofy ways and the fact she was simply herself.
Every sofa and bed in the house was hers and she had her favourites depending on the time of day. The furniture all smelled of greyhound but I didn’t care.
When she turned 9 I started her on supplements. They cost a bomb but she owed me nothing and she was worth it. When her arthritis flared up in winter she had monthly Synovan injections. I didn’t mind the extra vet bills because she was part of my family.
She developed a limp in her right foreleg and I suspected and dreaded osteosarcoma. The xrays confirmed my worst fears. Amputation was not an option so I took her to an oncologist where she had a bisphosphonate infusion to help strengthen her bone and give us a few precious extra weeks of quality time together. I didn’t begrudge the cost because I cherished her.
The anticipatory grief was overwhelming. I cried daily for 6 weeks. I cuddled her and brushed her and poached chicken breast to hide her pain meds in. The grief poured over me in unexpected tsunamis. My heart was crushed. That’s what love does to you.
I let her go a few days earlier rather than wait for her humerus to succumb to the cancer. She hated the local vet practice and I couldn’t let her last half hour of life be spent in fear and anxiety. I organised an at home euthanasia service and she passed peacefully on her outdoor bed under the pink bougainvillea on a warm October afternoon, her tummy full of fillet steak. After she crossed the numbness set in. Her bed is still there, with the little bit of fur shaved from her foreleg for the cannula- I can’t bear to tidy it away.
Each night I lie in bed and imprint memories of her on my brain. I recall the smell of her soft head when I kissed her. The feel of her velvety ears as I stroked them- it was guaranteed to lower the highest blood pressure. The happy dance she jigged when I scratched the base of her tail. Her playful roaching where I could plant a kiss on her bald belly.
She was my shadow and followed me everywhere. No shower, trip to the toilet or simple errand around the house was completed without her. She shared in my good times and gave me comfort in the hard times and now my shadow is gone I feel the brunt of my heartache. I scroll through the thousands of photos I have of her and marvel at the ones from nearly 10 years ago when she was jet black. When she left us she had a frosty face with distinguished grey eyebrows.
I miss her a hundred times a day. I miss her joy at the mention of a walk. I miss her jumping up at the back door when I get home. I miss her deep groan of satisfaction when she settled in her bed for the evening. I miss her contented sighs throughout the night. I miss her dreaming and listening to her muted throaty barks and her tail thumping on the floor.
I can’t bring myself to clean her smudgey noseprints from the back door or the car windows.
