Please feel free to ignore the following...
Over the years I have started to subscribe to the belief that we only exist for as long as memories of us exist. To that end, I am hoping that this post will eventually be archived by something like the Way Back Machine.
18 years ago and 6 years in to our relationship, my girlfriend and I became the proud parents of a beautiful Bichon puppy. My stepson was 10 at the time and as much as I love him, the puppy, Ozzy was "our" baby. Ozzy was so adorable that we decided that he deserved a companion. A year after Ozzy became a member of our family, he was joined by another Bichon puppy, Scamp, and two months later we had a third Bichon puppy, Bart.
I had grown up with dogs, normally mixed breeds from Battersea dogs' home. In the main they were fairly independent dogs, seeing us as providers of food and shelter. They had no desire to be constantly cuddled.
I soon discovered why Bichons are classified as lap dogs. They really want to be in your lap, being cuddled and pampered. Absolutely useless at catching rats or seeing off burly burglars.
Although our three "babies" loved each other, they unconditionally loved us and wanted us to reciprocate that love. It was amazingly simple for us to uphold our end of the bargain.
Ozzy was 15 when we made the heart breaking decision to let him "go". We thought it important that his "brothers" understood that he was dead and hadn't just disappeared. We had the vet visit our home. He asked us to put the other two boys in the kitchen. Excited about the presence of another human they barked constantly. Within seconds of Ozzy's heart stopping, the barking stopped.
The GF and I had already agreed that we wouldn't cry in font of our two remaining babies. We knew it would distress them. That didn't stop me crying in the pub, on the Tube, on the scaffolding at work (a bit awkward given that it was the first time that I had worked for that client).
Eleven months later it was time to say goodbye to Scamp. Bart became the sole focus of our love. For no logical reason, we dreaded the anniversary of Scamp's death, fearing that it would be time for Bart to leave us. Bart clearly wasn't superstitious, he just kept going. two years after Scamp had gone, Bart was still skipping down the road (yeah seriously, he used to skip and bounce when he walked).
Bichons are white haired, you don't see grey hairs as they age. We did however notice that Bart was frequently staring in to nothingness. We used to joke that he could see ghosts. Within a couple of months he was having fits and not quite always managing to make it outside to pee.
Bart was now 17, I didn't care how many puddles I had to mop away. Puddles meant he was still with us, pee away buddy. He was a bit lost but he was still eating and drinking.
A week ago he fell in his own puddles twice in one evening. He could no longer walk in a straight line. He would walk to his water bowl and forget why he was there. We had to make "that" decision again.
Because of covid, the vet wanted us to visit his practice rather than him coming to our home. Bart was booked in for 11.15. We only live 800 metres away from the vet but we had to drive him. With only 200 metres to go we were stuck in a traffic jam. Bart was getting stressed. I carried him the last 200m. Tears falling cascading down my face as I carried him. I didn't care who saw me. I was taking my baby to his final destination.
11 hours later, I still keep thinking I can hear him panting, that any second now he will jump up on to the bed. Losing the first two was hard but we always had Bart. 3 years since Ozzy died, I cannot talk in detail about the actual events of our last day together. I will never get over their deaths but I cling to the belief that one day the pain will be outweighed by the joy that they gave me.
Is there a moral to my story? No. I just wanted to "talk". I want someone, after I am gone to know that someone loved Ozzy, Scamp and Bart.
I love you Bart xxx
If you have read this far, thank you and apologies for the lack of literary style. I am laying here in bed, drinking warm lager and hoping to fall asleep.
Over the years I have started to subscribe to the belief that we only exist for as long as memories of us exist. To that end, I am hoping that this post will eventually be archived by something like the Way Back Machine.
18 years ago and 6 years in to our relationship, my girlfriend and I became the proud parents of a beautiful Bichon puppy. My stepson was 10 at the time and as much as I love him, the puppy, Ozzy was "our" baby. Ozzy was so adorable that we decided that he deserved a companion. A year after Ozzy became a member of our family, he was joined by another Bichon puppy, Scamp, and two months later we had a third Bichon puppy, Bart.
I had grown up with dogs, normally mixed breeds from Battersea dogs' home. In the main they were fairly independent dogs, seeing us as providers of food and shelter. They had no desire to be constantly cuddled.
I soon discovered why Bichons are classified as lap dogs. They really want to be in your lap, being cuddled and pampered. Absolutely useless at catching rats or seeing off burly burglars.
Although our three "babies" loved each other, they unconditionally loved us and wanted us to reciprocate that love. It was amazingly simple for us to uphold our end of the bargain.
Ozzy was 15 when we made the heart breaking decision to let him "go". We thought it important that his "brothers" understood that he was dead and hadn't just disappeared. We had the vet visit our home. He asked us to put the other two boys in the kitchen. Excited about the presence of another human they barked constantly. Within seconds of Ozzy's heart stopping, the barking stopped.
The GF and I had already agreed that we wouldn't cry in font of our two remaining babies. We knew it would distress them. That didn't stop me crying in the pub, on the Tube, on the scaffolding at work (a bit awkward given that it was the first time that I had worked for that client).
Eleven months later it was time to say goodbye to Scamp. Bart became the sole focus of our love. For no logical reason, we dreaded the anniversary of Scamp's death, fearing that it would be time for Bart to leave us. Bart clearly wasn't superstitious, he just kept going. two years after Scamp had gone, Bart was still skipping down the road (yeah seriously, he used to skip and bounce when he walked).
Bichons are white haired, you don't see grey hairs as they age. We did however notice that Bart was frequently staring in to nothingness. We used to joke that he could see ghosts. Within a couple of months he was having fits and not quite always managing to make it outside to pee.
Bart was now 17, I didn't care how many puddles I had to mop away. Puddles meant he was still with us, pee away buddy. He was a bit lost but he was still eating and drinking.
A week ago he fell in his own puddles twice in one evening. He could no longer walk in a straight line. He would walk to his water bowl and forget why he was there. We had to make "that" decision again.
Because of covid, the vet wanted us to visit his practice rather than him coming to our home. Bart was booked in for 11.15. We only live 800 metres away from the vet but we had to drive him. With only 200 metres to go we were stuck in a traffic jam. Bart was getting stressed. I carried him the last 200m. Tears falling cascading down my face as I carried him. I didn't care who saw me. I was taking my baby to his final destination.
11 hours later, I still keep thinking I can hear him panting, that any second now he will jump up on to the bed. Losing the first two was hard but we always had Bart. 3 years since Ozzy died, I cannot talk in detail about the actual events of our last day together. I will never get over their deaths but I cling to the belief that one day the pain will be outweighed by the joy that they gave me.
Is there a moral to my story? No. I just wanted to "talk". I want someone, after I am gone to know that someone loved Ozzy, Scamp and Bart.
I love you Bart xxx
If you have read this far, thank you and apologies for the lack of literary style. I am laying here in bed, drinking warm lager and hoping to fall asleep.
