After Heidi died we had the biggest outbreak of fleas in the house and nothing seemed to touch them; daily vacuuming, sprays, herbs, neem, oils, you name it, we threw it at ‘em. Meanwhile, Meg’s allergy to flea pooh became more and more serious. It went from a weepy, red, sore skin and chewed fur to her ending up in the emergency vets with anaphylaxis. Serious stuff. I was at the end of my tether seeing her suffer so badly. She was miserable.

We had vowed to not get another dog so that we could start travelling and doing all the things we couldn’t do before, but I had to ask Meg if getting her a buddy would help her through this. Within minutes of asking the question her whole demeanour changed from being a bit flat and just going through the motions to having a brightness about her. We talked more and I made it clear that this dog was to be her friend and we would be guided by her response to them on meeting.

Demetri was very sweet and said that although he didn’t really want another dog he would love it all the same, and supported Meg and me in the decision.

We saw only one dog, who made a beeline for Meg and she was happy rollicking around the field with him, so a week later he joined us here. We’ve had our ups and downs, as you do with a dog, but their love for each other is tangible. But, you know the best thing (apart from Mutley being a real character and bringing much laughter to the house)? Meg went from near weekly visits to the vet to only one since December (now April)! Her coat became smooth and silky (which it hadn’t been for some years), the pink lick-stained fur returned to being white, and she has gone from coping with only short walks around the block to insisting on coming on our hour long walks each day! Mobility and recovery vastly improved.

Mutley and Meg are taking me on a new journey as I’ve started studying Animal Aromatics / Zoopharmcognosy (the art of animals self-selecting herbs and oils to regain health/wellbeing). Heidi would have loved the oils and I’m sad she has missed out on them, but she continues to inspire me to help dogs like her.

Do I miss her? Terribly.

Do I still cry when I remember her? Of course, but with less intensity.

I see her picture every day on our brochures and in advertising material, but her place is in my heart for as long as she wants to stay there. She periodically influences Mutley’s behaviour to let me know that she’s still around – the tap of the paw on my leg, the moments of velcroism, the head pushed under my hand.

My special girl, I love you still.

R x

I was going to go alone, but Demetri wanted to be there for me. I was touched, but also was puzzled – drive to the vets, pick up the ashes, have a few moments with the ashes, and come home. Wrong, so wrong, wrong, wrong!

We arrived at the vets, discovered they had “lost” the large piece of vetbed Heidi had been carried in on and was then taken into one of the clinic rooms. I thought they would just hand over her ashes at reception (like they hand you the lead of a healthy dog when they have been discharged), give you a sympathetic look and off you go. I’d already told them I wasn’t bothered about the room thing in a prior conversation. Going into the room and seeing that little cardboard box sitting on the table gave me a jolt.

I wanted someone to hand her to me. I know it was her ashes, but it felt like she was being kept at arms length, like physical contact stops after they die. Maybe I’m just weird, but I remember Spike after he died was kept in a cardboard box while we inched him towards the back door to be buried (it was the only way Meg could cope with it). Every time I walked past him I’d stop and give him a gentle stroke (I had to fluff his fur up again afterwards as it started to go a bit flat which gave him a startled look). Not touching them feels slightly disrespectful.

Here was our girl in a box sitting on a table with the nurse standing in the doorway. She was very sweet and looked appropriately concerned, saying something, I know not what, but she was being supportive. I was encouraged to open the box. I was pleasantly surprised by the “casket”; a china ginger jar with pretty forget-me-nots painted on the outside.

This is where it got a bit bizarre. Inside the jar was Heidi’s ashes, in a plastic zippy bag – the kind you put your sandwiches in. I had to stifle my giggle and understood the practicality of such things, but Heidi in a sandwich bag?

The box was reassembled and I just wanted to get out of there.

The tears came as I walked through reception – Demetri was thanking the nurse for her sensitivity and all I wanted to do was bolt.

Clutching the box to me, the box which contained the remains of our beautiful girl, my heart was filled with both sadness and also such love. We sat in the car park and cried. The colour of the ashes matched that of her head and she reminded me of how it felt to have her head pressed into my hand, helping me to feel that even though the overcoat of her body had been shed and now rested in a bag in a china pot in a box on my lap, the love that we have is endless and cannot be destroyed by death or fire.

Heidi’s ashes are now in our bedroom awaiting their trip to Wales for scattering. I thought it would be good for that little body to go upstairs as she had such difficulty working out how to negotiate a flight of stairs and ended up staying downstairs as a consequence – regardless of how desperate she was to be with me or us.

I’m glad she’s safe in her little sandwich bag. It would be awful if she got spilled somewhere en route to Pembrokeshire.

Thank you for the memories little one.

I love you.

Rach x

I went through all of them until I realised that the only one whose opinion mattered in all of this was Heidi’s. It is to be her passing. It is her life which is drawing to a close and she is the one winding down and reconciling her life. I asked Rebecca Armstrong at Bright Paws to talk with Heidi to see what her needs are, to ask how she’s feeling and to ensure that she knows how much she loved and by how many.

Rebecca is wonderful. Her sensitivity is tangible and she is able to explain things in a respectful and gentle way. Heidi was evidently keen to speak (as was Meg who kept butting in!) and it became very apparent that the atmosphere in the house was concerning her. Demetri and I have been pretty upset since we realised that she was getting ready to leave us and have been so sad at the prospect of no Heidi. She said that she missed the “twinkly music”, and I was confused as both Demetri and I drum! It was her way of describing the energy within the house – there is normally much laughter and banter, and huge amounts of love. The sadness had changed the energy to one which disturbed her; she loved how it was and wanted that energy back. It was making her sad.

It appears she has the odd ache and areas of stiffness but nothing which really bothers her. Heidi is aware that she’s slowing down and sometimes gets a bit muddled or confused (trademark Heidi), but she loves where she is and the people in her life, all of us.

We appreciate that her previous life as very different to how it is now; she’s confirmed that it was hard, but has left out the detail. In this conversation she said that she’d never forget the first two months with me, it created a bond which will never break. She will always be by my side as that is where she wants to be. She will never leave me, even though we both know there is no debt either way. How did it feel to hear that? I’m not sure I could put it into words. I certainly cried. To be loved so much that your companion chooses to stay here rather than go over the bridge is very humbling. I wondered who would be there to greet her if she did decide to go and perhaps staying with me will be more comfortable for her. Only she will know that and she is always free to change her mind.”

During her last days both Demetri and I told her who may be there to greet her – all people who have known and loved us and that would certainly love her; our ancestors, friends, god-parents and animals who have shared our lives would be tumbling over themselves to help her in her light journey.

The pain and sadness I felt at the time of writing the above post could have been a backward shadow of the future, maybe some kind of preparation for how I’m feeling know. If I hadn’t felt it then, who’s to say whether I’d have spoken to HRH via Rebecca about the detail and to have the knowledge of her wishes in the detail we do?

As they say, everything is happening perfectly. There are no mistakes.

Every day which passes is slightly easier as I get used to seeing her office bed empty or realise I’ve made it to the kitchen without deviation, hesitation or repetition. Walking with Meg is harder – we both really miss Heidi’s gentle presence the most when we are out; she somehow made walking a meditation, stopping to smell the flowers, looking at the trees or sky gazing at night, everything held her in the moment. I miss her excited bark and circle running when she heard that Meg had smelled the fox. Foxes just aren’t as much fun anymore.

Meg’s grief is now coming through her skin, erupting as wet eczema which send her into a frenzy of nibbling, licking and scratching. Our lovely vet has given us a remedy to address her grief and we shall see what effect it has on her skin. She appears brighter already.

Thank you everyone for all of your wishes and kind words. They have really helped.

Rachael.

Love is a many splendoured thing...

Nothing prepares you for the days following the death of a loved dog-companion. It has felt as though I’ve been on a non-stop activity fest since Sunday night and I hadn’t had time to properly take in how I’m feeling, until last night when we had the house to ourselves once more – it was almost easy while the boys were here and their energy certainly lifted me.

Today is another day. Today I really saw how lonely Meg looked on her walk; the girls used to scout for the good smells and then share them, pushing their noses deep into the undergrowth and snuffling delightfully. Meg just seemed to amble from one scent to another with no real interest in any of them. Our walks are over so quickly now as Meg can put up a good trot and there is no reason to hang around twigs or discarded bags or random rocks, or even encourage Heidi to walk in the same direction as us as she’d often amble off in the opposite direction.

Those who knew her or knew of her have been so kind with words and hugs for us, but especially concern expressed for me. I realised quite recently that the animals aren’t “mine” but very clearly “ours”; it’s a source of utter joy for me to know that Demetri loves them too. It’s interesting how much of the support has been aimed at me and yet Demetri is grieving every bit as much as me; I’m guessing this is usual as the man can take on the supportive role, but who supports them?

What is other people’s experience of this?

Holiday snooze.

Heidi left us on Sunday evening.

I can neither describe my sadness, nor explain the relief that she has now found her peace. I will leave both to your imaginings.

Heidi had been going off her food over the last few weeks and we changed her to tinned Chappie, which she appeared to enjoy pretty well. The Denes tinned food was great for a while but she kept getting bouts of diarrhoea so the change was good for her.

We were due to go to Scotland on 1st August 2011 for our annual jaunt to African Drum Village and had planned on leaving the dogs behind with our friend, Ozzie Dave. It became quite clear that leaving Heidi behind was out of the question so took the lengthy decision to take her with us and leave Meggie behind with Dave.

The day after a 7 1/2 hour journey (Tuesday) Heidi was drifting in and out of consciousness. She had last eaten on the Sunday following a steroid injection designed to stimulate her failing appetite (which made her eat on the day, but then stopped eating altogether). That evening she vomited up the Sunday food undigested. Demetri and I spent the day sobbing and recounting Heidi tales, whilst telling her how much we loved her, that our ancestors and loved ones were waiting for her with open arms. She may not know them but she will be loved by them regardless. We were sure that she couldn’t possibly survive the day.

We were wrong.

A much appreciated back massage from Anne

Wednesday she was a little brighter but very wobbly on her legs, needing support and guidance when she walked. Our tent was on a slight slope, so when I carried HRH out I’d take her up the hill so that gravity would work in her favour to take her back to our tent. Sometimes she overshot and ended up at the neighbours, but Anne was wonderful and either gave her tickles and strokes, or massaged her increasingly boney back. At dawn she took me for a walk in the sunshine to the Tanante van parked 20 yards away; it took about 15 minutes to get there, but she was determined to do it. I thought I’d have to carry her back, but no, she managed to turn around and wobble her way back most of the way. This was the day after I’d had to show her how to move her limbs to walk as she was just standing there not moving. Once she’d got her legs moving she started to do it for herself. We suspected she’d not make it through the night.

We were wrong.

Tucked in and ready for sleep.

Each night she’d have her pyjamas put on and be tucked into her bed with a blanket as it was so chilly. Her legs were really cold so we’d take time to rub each one to get the blood circulating before sleeping. There were moments of snatched sleep as she’d struggle to stand and would need a helping hand to move around to get to her water bowl, where she’d hang her head, attempting to lap, but not quite succeeding. We started to rinse her mouth out with water every couple of hours and was feeding her on Nux Vom to help with the nausea. She started to leak yellow stuff from her mouth – unfortunately I couldn’t tell whether it was something infected or custard as I’d managed to spoon in a couple of teaspoons before she started to refuse it (remember, we had an arrangement that I’d let her choose her way forward, and if anything was refused, it wasn’t forced on her).

It was hard to see her slipping away from us. It gave me an opportunity to think further about this thing called the “Rainbow Bridge”. It’s something I’ve felt uncomfortable about for a while. Someone like Heidi would be utterly miserable waiting for me to die to be re-united, plus she’d possibly get caught in a stampede of lost loved ones in the clamour to get to the front of the queue – none of my lot have ever had any sense of decorum about them and I suspect they’ll not acquire it on the way! I just can’t see her there, but more likely still shadowing me, just less likely to trip me up quite so often.

Taking a balafon break

Demetri was so strong in all of this. He would send me off to do a workshop, or give me cups of tea and sit with HRH while I took a break. He never expressed any frustration or questioned my approach. We talked. A lot. It helped to have someone on side who clearly loves her as much as I do. Seeing him be so tender with her, helping her to settle or giving her TTouch to relax her tightening muscles and tendons touched my heart, talking to her, explaining what was happening and giving her the freedom to let go when she was ready. This was balanced with going out to explore some drumming workshops for himself.

Somehow she got through Thursday night, then Friday. Each day neither drinking nor eating. Each day standing with more difficulty and finding it harder to balance unaided. We talked about getting a vet out to her – it was heart-rending watching her struggle to get to the water bowl only to hang her head over it and snap her mouth. This apparently is a classic sign of nausea in a dog so I upped the Nux Vom frequency and added Arnica as now her mouth was bleeding. It appeared to help her.

In the early days she made it very clear that the day she needed help to go would be the day she was unable to get up. She kept demonstrating her ability to get up, even though she was unable to maintain it and would make the point all the clearer by staring at me after having got up.

Happy to hear the news over the clatterings...

Saturday came and still she was with us. Her eyes had dulled over the week and her frame was painfully thin; the bones on her head were sticking out and I had to be so careful when turning her. She never complained. Not once. She was no longer able to get up on her own and appeared to have little of no physical energy, eve though her spirit still felt astoundingly strong. I needed to get out – it was breaking my heart seeing her and knowing that she wanted to do this her way. She wasn’t in pain, but was slowly slipping away from us. Each day less of Heidi remained. I went off to learn about the kirin and the next thing I know is Demetri is outside the tent grinning from ear to ear and signalling that she had got up. Another day with Heidi!

She couldn’t possibly make it through Saturday night. Wrong again. Those little button eyes kept on watching, even though there were more periods of vacancy. She no longer wagged her tail – the greeting which always melted my heart and was usually accompanied by a special Heidi grin. Saturday night provided enough rainwater to clear the drought in East Africa. It chucked it down outside while we remained snug inside.

Sunday was the day to break camp and head home. It was quite clear to me that Heidi wanted to go home to see her Meggie. I had no idea whether she’d cope with the journey as she was now passing blood and could no longer hold her head up unaided. Part of me prayed that she’d slip away, that she’d be spared any more, but another part of me willed her to live as I knew how important it was for her to see her old friend. We both sobbed as we packed up, knowing that this was the last time she would be with us in the tent, that this was her last journey.

Six and a half hours later of a journey carefully planned by Demetri so that we could stop quickly if we needed to, avoiding long stretches without services and relatively straight roads. A lot of thought went into it and it worked! Somehow, she stayed awake all the way back and allowed me to clean her up and rinse her mouth. I took this time to forewarn the animals at home that she really didn’t have long and she wanted to see them for one last time.

Meg didn’t disappoint me in ignoring her completely on our return! We laid Heidi on her favourite bed while we stroked and loved her, crying more tears of such intense sadness that it was nearly unbearable. It suddenly became clear that she wasn’t able to take that final step on her own. Within an hour of being home she was showing signs of moving from discomfort to pain. I couldn’t find a vet in Leeds who would come to the house to help her on the way. We had to drive to the opposite side of Leeds with a dog whose tummy was really hurting her now. I sat in the back of the van with her nesting and resting between my legs, head on my knee. She wasn’t there, but her body wasn’t letting go either. Each time the pain caught her I prayed that her heart would stop, that the body which had helped her get through incredible trials in the past would release her from this torture. The heart which I believed to be so weak turned out to be so strong that it couldn’t switch off and let her go.

When the time came she didn’t struggle or resist in any way. She stretched out and simply slipped away without a murmur. Yes, we cried, but I was relieved that she no longer had to struggle.

Today? Today we heard Meggie barking downstairs and initially heard the telltale punctuation Heidi barks, then realised that it was just silence.

My first walk with Meg on her own brought many tears. No stopping to wait for herself to catch up or realise she’d gone in the wrong direction, or calling out “wrong legs” as she attached herself to the wrong person and was trotting off happily with a complete stranger. No smiling into the eyes of a delighted dog who had realised that I was still there and hadn’t spontaneously combusted. No watching the steady metronome tail as she trotted along the path. Just Meg. Just me.

Heidi, you have been quite the most remarkable creature I have had the pleasure to share my life with. Your extreme gentleness was matched only by your immense tenacity. I fell completely in love with you and I believe, you, me. I have never had such trust put in me. I have never experienced such peace when crises abound. Somehow you always made things feel like they were absolutely fine. Your calmness was astoundingly infectious and helped me to do what I needed to do. I suspect you will continue to do that as I feel you by my side, the place that you promised to remain, regardless of life or death. Your body has gone but our love remains as does your spirit.

Thank you for sharing my life. Thank you for your love. Thank you for everything you have brought in to my life, the lives of my loved ones and those who encountered you and your dotty ways.

Heidi, I love you. I will always love you. I still miss you.

Rachael xx

Meg: Bodyguard to HRH, her best and most loved friend

Heidi and Meg have been together for over two and a half years now, during which time they have both had their ‘challenging’ moments but maybe none so significant as this one.

You see, we have a bit of a problem. Rach and I are going away for a week to a place where dogs aren’t welcome on the camp site so we’d arranged for a friend, David, to house sit and look after the dogs and cats. However, it became clear over the last couple of days that Heidi may be fading and we felt it was unfair to burden our young friend with the responsibility of having to cope with Heidi going through a difficult patch health wise.

More than the usual back-up is there in the form of the sensitive and supportive conventional/complementary Towerwood Vets in Cookridge about a mile away; a supportive T-Touch friend, Janet, is also on hand as is my own boy, Mannie who would help out if asked too; a local taxi service that is willing to carry dogs and even an emergency 24-hour vet no further than 5 miles away. The Universe is kind and we are all truly privileged to have such willing support available so close.

It has been an agonising couple of days but we have finally decided to take Heidi with us and smuggle her in on-site. Sadly, Meg is often disturbed and quite vocal when she hears people talking nearby and we felt it would be adding unnecessary difficulty to the whole week for us to have to cope with her issues too which would divert what attention we can give to HRH. I have promised Meg that we shall have some special time together for a couple of days where dogs are welcome soon after we return. In the meantime they will be separated for the first time since they met for a whole week. We have also been supported and kept updated by our animal communicator Rebecca Armstrong from Bright Paws, who has been passing on messages and images between Rachael and both dogs throughout the day and well into the late evening delivering our intentions to them and returning with feedback. It’s great to see the light Rachael’s face when she gets a text from Rebecca.

We don’t honestly know if Heidi’s current condition will pass over once we get away and settled on-site or if indeed she is slipping away from us. She seems to have been suffering from occasional cramps on her rear left leg where it suddenly collapses as she is walking or even whilst she’s laying down; she occasionally has trembling bouts; seems to stand fairly rigid and fixated in a sort of squiffy pose; and has had intermittent loss of appetite and tummy issues. She is responding well to gentle homeopathic remedies when these things happen in combination of a bit of T-Touch, gentle holding, strokes and attention but these bouts have increased in frequency over the past few days with an accompanying loss of energy and willingness on her walks.

She is rarely eager to come out with me by myself but Sunday morning she needed a lot of encouragement and reminding that she’d only done one wee! She’s even un-excited about her Neem Triple Treats and almost un-bribable. Extreme at the best of times she is even more clingy to Rachael.

Truth be told, I don’t want to leave her at home either. I want to be with Heidi and I want to support Rachael through whatever events we are leading up to which I hope are mainly ambling along country paths and quiet moments reflecting in our tent.

By her behaviour this evening when we had decided how we were going to do this, it was obvious that Meg wants to be with Heidi and Rachael too at this time. She spent most of the evening in one of her bolt holes and was quite vocal for a few hours until I eventually managed to bribe her out with a trail of treats and some reassurance. She obviously doesn’t like it but I think she understands we don’t have any better alternative and she is going to absolutely love her time with Dave. He is such a joy to have around and has a wonderful connection with Meg in particular but the cats also – dare I say they think very much alike and are on the same wavelength!

As I prepared for some final going away preparations I looked in on the dogs for ‘lights out’ and saw Meg in her usual position when Heidi isn’t feeling too well – taking a watchful position without crowding her. Bodyguard to HRH if ever there was one!

–
Demetri

Heidi's look: "It wasn't me!"

Despite the occasional look of trepidation on her face when she’s having a photo taken she never seems to be too far from a smile and I just can’t help but just picking up on her excitement at what’s around the next corner whether it’s a new one or one she’s been round thousands of times before.

Two stalwart members of the Mutual Impersonation Society

Her relationship with Rachael is delightful. I know it gets a bit intense for Rachael when she’s being shadowed around every step in the house and I try not to ascribe human emotions but if such a thing as love exists in a dog, it is manifest in Heidi. Maybe she just doesn’t want to be alone, and she seldom is.

Heidi, Meg and Rachael playing near the river at Kettlewell

One of the things she enjoys doing, as everybody else does in our family, is going to play near water. Meg loves to splash and swim and chase sticks and rocks and imaginary stuff or waiting for something else to fetch.  I like doing the throwing and Rach and Heidi on the other hand likes observing.

"Now what have we got in here?"

Heidi doesn’t often venture into the water though she may just allow her toes to get wet. She just tends to keep her eye out for what’s going on while nuzzling in some undergrowth or general sniffing. Heidi LOVES sniffing!

It’s always a bit of guess work when deciding when everyone is about to have enough and get tired so we can decide to head off back before discomfort sets in – Heidi getting too tired or Meg’s back leg showing too much stiffness.

Friends together ... forever.

I love going on trips with the family. There is a lurking fear that it’s going to be the last time but that concern has been around for quite a while now. The lesson I’ve learned is that maybe it is and maybe it isn’t but it doesn’t seem to matter for Heidi, she just enjoys the moments for what they are: enjoyable, memorable, a time to discover new things, be reminded of other things or see familiar things in a new light.

Heidi IS the definition of experiencing ‘joy’.

–
Demetri

Heidi appears to love life

Yes, Heidi is still with us and is very much engaged in her life. She had a sticky patch in the spring and I thought she was leaving us. I wrote a long post about getting ready for her departure and believed I was ready for her to go. She rallied, stopped peeing every 2 hours night and day and returned to her old self!

She still pees on the sofa some nights, but it means that I get to throw out a manky sofa one piece at a time! The picture on the left is from a trip to Kettlewell at the beginning of May this year when we had a delightful walk by the river and we sat for ages with Heidi while Meg paddled and swam. I have some wonderful film of the two of them which I will post when it’s been edited.

I just wanted to let you know how well our little one is doing. She’s still 15 (two years now I think) and following her episode in the spring has dramatically reduced sight, but her will is still cast iron, her heart is still open for love.

We have recently started to take both of the girls to our local pub, where Meg lies under a table to sleep and Heidi wanders around from person to person for tickles. It was noted by one of our friends that Heidi never steps outside the front area of the pub which is quite open to the lane. She’ll sniff at the (open) boundary, and check out the wall, but never goes any further. Both of them really perk up when we say we’re going to the pub!

Where are we going tonight? We’re off to the pub for a music and beer festival, so the dogs will be looking after each other and the cats, hopefully leaving what is left of the sofa for another night!

Thank you for being patient with my infrequent posts!

Rachael and Heidi

I have been trying to remember the last time I heard her do her “we’re going out for a walk, yippee” bark and it’s been a while. She’ll bark if Meg does and then looks confused as she has no idea why the noise.

Last night she ate a chicken wing – it was pretty much the only thing she was interested in (she went off broth after a day!) but it took her about 20 minutes to eat it. Meanwhile, Meg snuck in behind her to tuck into the rest of her food, but even Meg was great when I suggested she stepped away from the bowl and reversed to her bed where she kept a weather eye on Heidi’s progress; she was delighted when she’d finished the meat and went into the other room as meant she got double dibs – greedy devil.

I suspect we have another trip to the vets today. Watch this space.

Rachael

Wendy was lovely with her and ensured that the antibiotic injection went in the loosest part of her neck so that it wouldn’t hurt. We had a long conversation last night about the best treatment for HRH – she did really well on the homeopathic treatment last month but it didn’t fully get rid of the infection. We both felt it was appropriate to use antibiotics at this stage, along with homeopathic as support. Most of you will know how I feel about conventional medicine – it has its place, and now is the time to be using it.

We are now home and madam is curled up in her bed next to my desk very soundly asleep. We have been advised to ensure that she gets vitamin B (she’s been spitting it out recently) as it will stimulate her appetite; last night was the first night she’s shown any interest in her food – liquidized chicken broth, still warm from the pan.

We go back in a week to get her urine checked again, but Wendy reckoned the antibios will take about 3 days before we see any effect.

Dear Heidi, she’s so stoic and just keeps on putting one foot in front of the other. She’s not ready to leave and has loads more love to give and receive.

R & H