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| Zara Thustrasia |
When I was much younger than I am now (a child in fact), I subscribed to the notion of 'best' friends. There's an irony in the concept of course, because a best friend isn't someone who is necessarily 'better' than other friends, but is instead merely one whom we like more than the rest. Over the years, I'm sure I've been a better friend to some people than those they'd regard as their 'best' pal, but I'm never going to be eligible for the position. (Not that I'd want or even try to be.)
So I long ago abandoned the idea of best friends - as far as people go. However, anyone who has ever had a dog will know that the only species on the planet fit to qualify for such an accolade is the canine one. Dogs are always genuinely glad to see us, never bear a grudge for however many times we've scolded them over some doggie-misdemeanour, and their chief delight in life is to lie at our feet or by our side and simply bask in the pleasure of our company.
My dog passed on to the great 'Kennel Club in the sky' over thirteen years ago. ZARA was her name; a black and gold German Shepherd of the most placid temperament imaginable. She lived for twelve years, seven months, and I still remember the sound of her, near the end of her days, trying to drag herself up the stairs to my room simply to be with me. (When I heard her, I'd go downstairs and carry her up.)
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| What a poseur |
She had cauda equina, a condition which 'fused' the nerves in her spine together, making it difficult for her to walk. I'd noticed it was getting worse and mentioned it to the vet when Zara was getting her annual booster jags. "She'll be fine for years yet!" he'd said. Seven or so days later, she could hardly walk, so I took her back and the first thing he said on sight of her was: "That dog should be put to sleep!" I reminded him that only a week before, he'd said she was in fine form. "A lot can change in a week!" he muttered. X-rays revealed that she'd also developed internal tumours, for which nothing could be done.
I explained that, as long as she wasn't in any pain, putting her to sleep wasn't an option I was prepared to consider at that time. He gave her a course of tablets, but said that they'd only be of short-term benefit. A fortnight later, for the first time, she had difficulty breathing. It was the night of November 25th, 1998 and I'd hoped Zara might see one more Christmas at the very least. I fetched the Christmas tree down from the attic and put it up in the living-room, switching on the tree lights so that she could watch them twinkling in the gloom.
When morning came, I rang the vet and then carried Zara up to my room, and placed her on my bed to make her as comfortable as possible. When the vet arrived, Zara lifted her head to look at him - then looked at me, licked my hand, and laid down her head with a sigh - almost of relief. After examining her, the vet confirmed it'd be better to put her to sleep. Still clinging to some forlorn hope, I said that if there were any other options, regardless of expense, I'd prefer to explore them first. He shook his head sadly. "No, it's time" he said.
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| Zara as a pup |
I signed for the lethal injection, which the vet then went out to his car to fetch. When he returned, he said: "Her circulatory system is 'down', so I'll have to inject it straight into her heart. It isn't going to be pleasant - you might want to leave the room." I was holding Zara's paw and stroking her head, determined to be with her to the end. It was the least I could do - she'd always been there for me. "I'll stay" I said.
The vet administered the injection, stood back and watched. After a while, he said: "I'm sorry, this has never happened before - she won't die." Consumed with guilt, I protested that if she could resist a lethal injection, maybe something could've been done for her after all. "No, she's got a strong heart, but she needs more than that to survive" he replied. Finally, he'd no choice but to fetch another injection to administer. Zara eventually breathed her last, to the sounds of 'Walking In The Air' from a wind-up Snowman doing its slow, circular dance close by.
I then had to help the vet put Zara in a bag and carry her out to his car. I'd arranged with him to have her privately cremated in a place called 'Elysium Fields', but it couldn't be done until after the weekend. On the appointed day, a friend, who was a minister, ran me through, and Zara was laid out on display before me. She looked like she was sleeping, but she was frozen solid. I stroked her fur for one last time, before my friend said a few words and read a poem over her, and she was then taken off to be 'attended' to.
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| Having fun in the back garden |
I didn't know that the process would take two hours, so we sat in a cafe until it was time to collect her ashes. I was struck by how long they retained their warmth - as if, in some strange way, life itself yet lingered. Four years later, I finally scattered them in the back garden, where her spirit probably runs around snapping at wasps to this day.
I probably shouldn't divulge this, but on the day I scattered her ashes, I first looped her lead through the handle of the bag that the box was in, and took her for one last walk around the places she'd known and loved when she was alive. I don't know whether anyone noticed me taking a carrier bag on a lead for a stroll - I'd have got some strange looks if they had, but it was something I felt compelled to do. If you've ever had a dog, you'll understand; if not, you'll think I'm completely bonkers. (Not that I was dragging the bag behind me - it was by my side.
Two best friends - in one last walk together. What could be more fitting?
******
ZARA THUSTRASIA ROBSON
May 3rd, 1986 - November 26th, 1998
******
"Well! I've seen men go to courageous death
In the air, on sea, on land!
But only a dog would spend his breath
In a kiss for his murderer's hand.
And if there's no heaven for love like that,
For such four-legged fealty - well!
If I have any choice, I tell you flat,
I'll take my chance in hell."
From "Rags" - by Edmund Vance Cooke.
13 comments:
I went through something very similar, also 13 years ago. Our 12 year old Springer/Collie cross reached the end of the road. I was numb after the event. At 04.30 the next morning I woke with a start, tears streaming down my face. I've never had that reaction to the loss of a human friend or relative. Strange, eh?
We had three dogs when I was a kid. I just realised yesterday it's twenty years ago since our last dog died.
They say Morecambe has the most dog owners in the UK but Elgin must give it a run for its money.
Do you know this verse by Byron?
"... the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master's own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth--
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth."
Martin, not in the slightest - not to anyone who has ever owned a dog.
Yes, Dougie - long been one of my favourites. Lord Byron's Epitaph to a Dog. Boatswain, wasn't it? Apparently, a friend of his (John Hobhouse) wrote the first two introductory verses.)
A very touching day, I know because I was the "friend" & I was privileged to be with you to help you bid a fond farewell.
And it was an honour to have you there, 'tongalad'.
Kid,
A very touching experience. The ability of a dog to give unconditional love is a true gift to so many. I don't have one of my own at the moment, but my brothers dog Sam is a "best friend". He is absolutely thrilled when I go over to visit, knowing that I will take him to the park for a walk. He staress at me and nudges me and I can't say no. I also love cats, who don't show affection in the same way, but have their own way of showing warmth.
A neighbour's black cat, 'Lucky' (now sadly deceased), used to come in and live with me for weeks on end. It would sleep next to Zara and groom her from time to time. I must put up some photos of the two of them when I find them.
Also, when I took Zara for a walk around the neighbourhood, Lucky would follow us all the way 'round and back again. She was a great cat.
Sorry for your loss, Kid.
Dogs are truly the best humans.
It's been four years now but I still mourn like crazy my last dog. It's very weird and totally unhealthy, as well, to live without a dog, like I'm forced to do now.(But not for very long)
You'll never have better protectors in this life.
Thanks for dropping by and for the kind words, Yves. What breed of dog do you prefer?
"Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really." -Agnes Sligh Turnbull
Too true, TC. Too true.
I know exactly what you're talking about, Kid. Our dog, a collie, was fifteen when we had to put him to sleep. When he was born, his mother tried to drag him and his litter mates out into a rainstorm and he was the only one who survived. She wouldn't have anything to do with him and he was in constant fear. The owner tried to make it work, but after she drowned the others, he called and asked if I wanted him, so my wife and I took him in.
For the first two weeks we had him, he wouldn't get within ten feet of us. After that, he gradually got the nerve, but was never really comfortable until we had our first child. He was extremely protective of her, following her around the backyard everywhere that she went. When we had our second daughter, he really became a new dog and would actually come up to you.
Though he wasn't your ordinary dog and actually seemed to prefer to be alone, which could be very frustrating, he was a member of the family. There was always some fear in his make-up, no doubt because of the way his mother treated him as a pup. I have to say that I probably could have done more to help him get out of that shell, but with work and family, then having to take twenty - thirty minutes to get him to come up to you, I wasn't able to do what I wanted.
He lived fifteen years, and I'm glad that we came along to get him because he wouldn't have made it that long otherwise, I'm sure. A couple of years before he died, we adopted two abandoned puppies and he really took to them.....in fact, that probably made his last few years better. We would see him playing in the backyard with them.
His heart gave out on him and, like you, I tried to keep him as long as I could, but he eventually got to the point where he couldn't get up on his own. I stayed with him while he was put to sleep and it was kind of like he didn't want to go either, but he finally died peacefully, with me holding one of his paws and rubbing his head.
I still look out my back window sometimes and expect to see him there. He was the most beautiful dog. As I said, he was extremely frustrating to deal with at times, but I'm glad I had the opportunity to take him in.
A touching tale, Graham, and I'm sure he loved all of you in his own doggie way. I really don't understand people who don't understand the joys of having a pet. There's pain as well, of course, as your story illustrates, but the pluses outweigh the minuses by a long chalk. I know your blog is mainly music-orientated, but you should do a post about your dog - I'm sure a lot of people would appreciate it.
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