Here’s a Rest Day Ruminations post. Thank you to my lovely paying subscribers who make some of the posts open to all, as with this one. Please consider subscribing if you’d like to support my work!
On my old blog I had written about our dog, Dylan, in a post on 13th March 2023, which was headed by the image above:
“Many of you know that I live with Dolly the cat and Dylan the dog. Dolly has had diabetes but recovered, and hasn’t had an insulin injection for months, which is amazing! Unfortunately it hasn’t all been good news as Dylan has been poorly recently, with kidney issues. He had to stay in the vets for a few nights on a drip. Collecting him yesterday was emotional, as he is such an affectionate dog. We’re hoping we can give him a good quality of life and get him back to his perky self. If you can spare him a thought to send him good wishes, that would be great. He’s an old dog, but still has a lust for life (despite also having epilepsy), and hopefully that can come to the fore again as he feels better.”
I’ve been thinking about Dylan recently. The grave we made for him has wildflowers on, and they are beginning to bloom. I still talk to him there, at the bottom of the garden, when I’m on my own. He died just over two years ago.
Below is the post I wrote about him on 22nd April 2023. I still think it stands as a commemoration of our love for him.
Dylan [22nd April 2023]
Last time I wrote about Dylan's struggles.
I want to say some words about Dylan. He isn’t with us any more. He’d not let his lust for life be ruined by epilepsy or arthritis, but after a brave struggle his kidneys eventually failed him and we had to make the truly awful choice to prevent him from suffering.
He was my friend. Every morning was better for having seen him, when he’d greet me with excitement. Every evening was nicer for giving him a fuss and his suppertime chewie, and maybe letting him chase me around the settee. Seeing him plod around his garden made me happy.
He had a great sense of humour, bordering on the silly and whimsical (whereas Dolly’s is more of a dry humour). He made me laugh, and he was happy in return.
He taught me a lot. Especially about the importance of finding what you like in life, and savouring it. How each moment should be treasured, and life is more for living than worrying. Life is short. I’d give anything to have him with us longer, as long as he was happy and not suffering.
We held him at the end, and he was brave then, too. More than I would be.
When you lose someone you love, you then regret every time when you were impatient, because suddenly each moment becomes precious. Try not to be impatient with those you love. And always take the time for those in your care. You are their whole life. They don’t ask for much apart from love and patience in return. Always give it.
I buried him in the garden, in a quiet corner where he’d walk every day. We made a raised flower bed above him and planted flowers that will spread, and are good for bees and butterflies, so there will be beauty and life, which is how I think of him.
I’m still going to talk to him. I still love him just as much. He’s alive in my mind with love and good memories that make me smile. Everyone who got to knew him fell in love with him. He deserves that acknowledgement. In many ways grief is a private thing, and yet we shouldn’t be afraid to talk about those who mean so much to us. Let them know it during life – that’s the most important – even after death that continues. We must learn the lessons those that love us bestow. Losing him is like losing a part of myself, just as it is for everyone else close to him. That’s what love is. You never move on, because that would mean leaving someone behind, and that’s never the case where love existed. But they’re still alive in you, which is one of the few things we can say with certainty about what happens next. So, just, please be kind, patient, respectful and loving. To yourself and to others. (Particularly to others.) I’m sure Dylan would endorse that message, and then get all excited about going for a walk (and get even more excited on the return home, when he’d speed up just because running is also fun). Possessions mean nothing compared to living connections, something our culture often forgets.
Let me tell you a story about Dylan. He was six when we took him in. I don't think he’d had a good life before that. He would flinch at some movements nearby. We think he’d been attacked by a dog once. And he came to us with no bed, no toys. In fact, he didn’t know how to play when we first got a toy for him. But he learnt. He came to love playing. He came to trust us with his life. He didn’t let that bad start deter him, didn’t give in to fear. No, he overcame it, and showed us how resilient it is possible to be. Doesn’t matter if you’re small, or have epilepsy, or have slightly dodgy hips meaning a hop-skip walk when he was going fast in excitement. None of that matters. His heart was bigger than his frame, and his spirit was giant. In terms of love, he wasn’t a little dog, but huge.
Thanks for reading,
Karl
That still hits me hard.
Spread The Love
Please consider giving a home to a dog that needs one, if you can. If you’re a loving and responsible person.
However, maybe you can’t do that, and make a lifelong commitment. Maybe you can’t afford it. There are other options!
For example, you can foster a dog. There are no costs involved but time and love. You help prepare the dog for its forever home, getting it out of a cage and making it happy. For example, in the UK, the Dogs Trust have this scheme:
They even have a scheme where you can look after a dog for a family in need, until they are in a position to escape from domestic abuse and take the dog back:
Both are ways to give and receive love whilst doing a tremendously good deed.
It can be a life-changing decision, something you will always look back on, and be glad that you did it.
And there are often similar schemes for cats.
Peace and love.
That was a lovely post. I'm glad that we were able to look after our dog Meg for so many years.
This is lovely Karl. I have always, always had cats: both of my previous cats were adopted as kittens from the Mayhew. One kitten died when she was very young and her sister died in my arms nine years later. When I was able to, I knew that I had to have another kitty in my life. I adopted the beautiful Yasser from Battersea (he acquired his name from me). Adorable Yasser was 8 when he came to live with me. He is my best furry pal. He was nervous and neglected when he came to live with me, and just wanted to be loved. He is an adorable - and, incidentally, very pretty - little cat, so he’s very easy to love. Giving an older cat or dog a second chance is so often a very good bet. - And the unconditional furry love that you receive in return is just priceless.