posted by Lily on family

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I guess it’s an indication of the great security and privilege with which we live, that this weekend – with the death of our dear, dear, dear doggles – has been the saddest in our lives.  Neither Julian nor I – let alone Abby – have experienced such loss.

After talking with Mum, we decided not to bury Toph or Simon in the garden here in Melbourne.  Honestly, it doesn’t much feel like our home, and this is the very garden that poisoned them.  So Mum is contributing to having our darling Toph and Simon cremated.  Our vet Hugh is speaking with the crematorium folk – we would like them cremated together – and we will have their ashes in a box.  We may keep some of them with us always, but will also scatter a goodly proportion of them, if not all, over Mum’s beautiful tropical garden at home in Brisbane.  That way, they will be part of a garden they so loved, first came home to, and grew up in – and Lucy (Simon’s sister and a great lover of Toph) will be there with them.

We took Toph up to the vet’s this morning – and there was Hugh with very sad news.  Simon had really taken a turn for the worse.  After soldiering on since Wednesday with such fortitude, this morning, his poor little body just couldn’t take any more of the toxins that were continuing to build.  He couldn’t even stand to greet us – and yet!  that tail of his just kept on wagging.  His breathing was laboured, his eyes were beginning to roll back and glaze over, and his back legs were twitching uncontrollably.

We had taken up he and Toph’s quilt to wrap him in, and a bowl of Vita Brits and milk – their favourite breakfast.    The poor dear couldn’t even bear to look at the food, but was very happy to be wrapped in the quilt and cuddled on our laps.  We all had a lovely long cuddle, reminding Simon how much we loved him, what a beautiful, happy and wonderful dog he was and told all of the funny stories about he and Lucy and Toph that we could remember.  He watched us carefully as we spoke, his tail wagging.  We buried our faces in his lovely woolly curls and kissed him plenty.

We also showed him Toph’s body.  That may sound macabre and goodness knows what he made of it.  He certainly sniffed her face carefully and gave her a little lick.  We wanted to let him know that she was there with him.  That she had not made it home, whilst he was left there to die by himself.

After last night’s great sadness, we decided against bringing Simon home.  Hugh felt that the seizures were not far away and once the drip was removed, Simon would sink quickly – quickly enough to be dreadfully sick, but who knew how long he would survive and what the quality of this time would be.   Frankly, as I walk about the house, every corner and space is etched into my mind as part of Toph’s very sad last few hours.  The corners where she initially lay as she convulsed whilst we held the damp towel over her, stroked her head and spoke gently to her.  The furniture she bumped into as she made her way about, putting that long Dachshund nose of hers to good use.  The sofa where we lay and held her for the last few hours as she slept.  I’m so glad that I don’t have these memories of Simon.

As Hugh said, if Simon was human, he would be in intensive care with constant monitoring and many drips and drains.  So, we sat there in the little vet hospital and farewelled our beloved furry brother with as much love as it feels our hearts have.  Simon was warm, secure, as comfortable as possible and the people he loved most in the world were there with him.  Eventually, his bowels gave out and we knew it was time.

Whilst Julian held him close and I stroked his head and ears, Hugh injected the bung in his paw with the going-to-sleep-medicine.  It seemed to hurt as it began to flow into his vein.  He cried gently a few times.  But we continued to hold and kiss him and within moments, his body relaxed, the trembling stopped and his beautiful spirit left this world.  Do you know, his tail wagged right to the last moment.  And as his head lolled forward, his little pink tongue slipped out and there was the wee missing triangle that Lucy bit out whilst they were pups.

Oh our hearts just shattered on the floor right there in the vets.  I am filled with a freezing cold heavy emptiness.  There’s this big hole in our little family now and it seems as if we have lost not just a bit of our Queenslanderness, but part of who we are.

We lay him gently in the hut, next to Toph, made our final kisses and farewells, and left our dear doggles for the last time.  As I said in the beginning, the grief we are able to feel for two little dogs is testament to the good fortune with which we live, but as we left, I truly felt the words of W. H. Auden when he demands to stop all the clocks …

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

I see their shadows everywhere in the house.  I hear their little snorts and snores and wuffles.  I drop crumbs and leave them there, knowing how much Toph will enjoy pouncing on them and gobbling them up.  I hug the patchwork cushion on the sofa, that Simon insisted on flattening every night to sleep on, to my chest, not caring for a second that the colours are dulled by his dear dirty self.  We always joked that Simon’s colour rubbed off!

Yes it’s over now.  The horror of the last few days – that two dogs that were so healthy and hale could be struck so quickly and viciously by a tiny toxin to small to see – is over.  The dogs are no longer struggling.  When I said to Abby that Toph and Simon were peaceful now she retorted passionately – “They were VERY peaceful when they were snuggled on the kitchen armchair!”  That’s true darling girl, but it was not meant to be.    Their collars are on the table, next to a small jar of camellias and beeswax candles.  Their beds are still made up.  Their quilt is washed and hanging out to dry.  We have treasure chests of wonderful memories.  Hard drives full of photos.

Hugh – with decades of country and city vet experience – is certain that Toph and Simon were not maliciously poisoned.  He says you see a lot of that in the country where people have access to a vast stockpile of toxic chemicals, but that in the city, in 20 years, he has only treated one case, and it was after a year of raging, aggression and nasty property attacks between two households of far less than salubrious sorts.  All that country experience has taught him that our fauna can play nasty tricks.  Farmers can lose several animals in one field that they have farmed for decades and all it takes is one small shrub that has sprung up in an unobserved corner.  Hugh’s going to come over later in the week and take a walk around the back garden.  He’ll collect samples from the suspicious looking plants (we have a small plastic bag with a dried vomit sample) and give them to his friend the Botanist at the University of Melbourne and maybe we will get some answers.

None of these things will ever make up for losing Simon and Toph so tragically.  But they – and time – will go someway to easing this sorrow and emptiness.  I just want to hit edit undo.