Love Lost

A couple of weeks ago I experienced the hardest day of my life. And that is because I had to put down my beautiful, adorable, 15 years and 7 months old dog. Her name was Muffin, a maltese/poodle. She was white and fluffy and about the size of a shoe box and she had the most beautiful  face in the whole world.

It happened like this: I got a call from my mum saying Muffin wasn't well, that she had been coughing, groaning, she couldn't walk and that she was taken to the vet. It turned out that she had fluid in her lungs. So I went home and mum tells me that she called the vet and they said to come in at 5pm to make a decision. Of course the first thing that went through my head, and everyone else's, was that she needed to be put down but I brushed that thought out of my head as quickly as it came because to even consider that little white fluff-ball not being in my life was too hard to bear.

There is one thing that you need to understand about my dog, even at 15 people mistook her for a puppy. She was bouncy, she was lively, she was always keen for a walk. She was small, eager and curious. She was such an active dog that the thought that she may die soon was simply unrealistic. One day she was perfectly fine, bouncing along the beach, sniffing everything within reach and then the next day, she was curled up in a blanket with heat packs and hooked up to an oxygen machine.

It has been incredibly hard coping with this loss. And it still seems slightly unreal. Even now, 17 days after her death, I still expect to walk downstairs and see her lying on the fluffy carpet. When I come home I still expect to walk in and be greeted by this happy little furball. I feel sometimes like I'm going crazy because I see a flash of something white in the garden and I think it's her. I think I hear the sound of her collar jingling as she walks around.

I have dreams about her, sometimes they're comforting, I'm just holding her in my arms or watching her run around the house. Other times they keep me up at night and make me scared to go to sleep because I dream that she's dying in my arms all over again and there's nothing I can do to save her.

A couple of days ago we received her ashes, and that is what she has now been reduced to. Her once beautiful, tiny body that was covered in creamy white curls has become a pile of ash in a box that could maybe fit a mug in it. And what do we do with her now? Bury her? Spread her ashes somewhere? I've decided to keep her for now. I know that the idea of keeping my pet dog's ashes is slightly strange and morbid but she was the best dog and my best friend throughout my childhood. The idea of letting go of her is not an option.

My only concern is that if I feel this deeply grieved about losing my pet dog, how on earth will I ever handle losing my mum or sister?

There is not a day where I have not thought of you my dearest Muffin, not a day where I have not shed a tear on your behalf, and I take comfort in the fact that you are suffering no more. You will be forever loved.

My beloved Muffin, a couple of hours before she passed away.