She had joy, she had fun, she had seasons in the sun
This time last year, my lovely Betty dog became unexpectedly ill at the age of 14 and a half years. Following the diagnosis that fateful morning, we had one last day together. We spent time in the sunshine in a buttercup meadow where the rabbits live. We ate bananas in the garden. I lay on the grass and she put her paw in my hand.
She passed away peacefully at the vet's, in my arms that evening, on the 7th June.
I'm not sure how I got through this last year. She was everything to me. She was my bright, vivacious and enthusiastic best friend. I miss her so much. The living room feels empty. When I come home the house is quiet. Dolly cat misses her too and is being a real help. She stayed with me all last night. I'm off to a meditation retreat for a couple of days to sit quietly and remember all the good times and allow more healing.
Just after she died, I produced a booklet of poems in a stumbling attempt to express my feelings. Here's a sample.
Promise Me
She passed away peacefully at the vet's, in my arms that evening, on the 7th June.
I'm not sure how I got through this last year. She was everything to me. She was my bright, vivacious and enthusiastic best friend. I miss her so much. The living room feels empty. When I come home the house is quiet. Dolly cat misses her too and is being a real help. She stayed with me all last night. I'm off to a meditation retreat for a couple of days to sit quietly and remember all the good times and allow more healing.
Just after she died, I produced a booklet of poems in a stumbling attempt to express my feelings. Here's a sample.
Promise Me
(Betty’s last wish)
When I’m gone,
Promise me you'll go on eating.
Promise me you'll walk through frosted, autumn
leaves
Where icy sticks lie amongst the sparkles.
Promise me you'll pad through winter snow,
And prick up your ears at the fresh, yellow sniffs
of spring.
Promise me you'll body surf down daisy covered
hills.
Promise me you'll smile again,
One day.
Age shall not wither her,
ReplyDeleteNor custom stale her infinite variety
Thank you Tuppence for helping to "give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o'er-wrought heart and bids it break." -- William Shakespeare
ReplyDeleteBless her, Helen.I bet she had a very happy life, though.
ReplyDelete