I’d been scrolling through countless beautiful, forlorn, hopeful little faces on many shelter pages and websites in search of you. You happened to be two and a half hours away with a face that said, “I’m worth the trip and more.” It was Monday the 14th of September when I begged my parents to let me rescue you. After heavy discussion, we decided to bring you home.
Day 1: Sunday, 20 September 2020
Finally, after what felt like the longest week of my life, we made the long trip, dog treats galore. We all fell in love with you the second they brought you out of your kennel to us, eyes down and heart racing. How could anyone abandon a gentle little soul like yours – alone on a property with nothing to eat or drink?! We formed a bond instantaneously; I found it just as difficult to put you down as you did to try walk away from me for any reason at all. Mostly, you were calm and sleepy for the duration of the ride home. Introducing you to a tiled floor proved an unexpected obstacle, but we’ll get there, I know we will. The other dogs were curious but knew not to overwhelm you, and you were overwhelmed. Why are these people being so nice to me? It can’t be real. So you hid. Under my legs, under chairs, in corners. Getting you to wee on the grass felt like a milestone to celebrate. I’m already so proud of you and you don’t even know it. I’m already so in love with you, and I’m so excited for the day that you understand what that means.
Day 2: Monday, 21 September 2020
I was up early this morning with you, sad that you didn’t seem as energetic as you were yesterday. You started vomiting throughout the day and it was painful to watch you in pain. Why is this happening? You didn’t want to eat and every time you drank water it came straight out. We phoned the vet to see if we should bring you in but had medicine for upset tummies that the vet said should work. If not, we should bring you in the next morning. We tried to play with you, get you to walk around outside – every step a celebration – but something was amiss. And yet you still had the kindest little ways of saying thank you; like when you stretch out on your bed thankful that you finally have one of your own. Or when you look up from it every now and then to make sure I’m still there, head calmly back down when you realise I am. Please feel better tomorrow my Rosie – you deserve the health and happiness you haven’t been given before.
Day 3: Tuesday, 22 September 2020
It was another rough night for us. I rubbed your head and comforted you while you vomited through the night but watching you in pain and discomfort was unbearable. I made an appointment at the vet first thing. She said you’re in good health but have a bit of gastro, gave you some meds and sent us all off with peace in our hearts and more meds for the following morning. It was a long tough day waiting for the meds to take. You already have so much to adjust to – you aren’t used to being inside a house, let alone being part of a home. Tiled floors are a mystery to you, you still have a long way to go with your new siblings and you don’t even know what licking out of affection is. You need to unlearn your fear and start trusting, all before you can even start relaxing and playing and running around. And how can you do that when you aren’t even feeling physically well, nevermind the emotional trauma. I hope I can teach you love. I’m desperate for you to know it.
Day 4: Wednesday, 23 September 2020
Usually, the number 23 appears in my life to reassure me, but this had to have been one of the worst days of my life. This morning, you had blood in your stool. The panic and fear when I saw it… indescribable. We phoned the 24hour emergency clinic closest to us but apparently, they also only take patients at certain times. It was 6:30 in the morning and we couldn’t wait until 12:30. Not a fuck. We took you to the vet at 7:30 as soon as they opened. They administered your drip and started doing more tests. She surmised Haemorrhagic Gastroenteritis. We had to leave you there in hope that you’d receive the best possible care we could provide you with.
When we visited later, tears galore, the waterworks worsened – you’d been tested positive for Parvo Virus. Unreal because you’re already 2 and no longer a puppy. Your history was against you, but my girl, you have to know a better life than this. You have to fight for it so we can keep fighting for you. It baffles me how distraught I am after only a few days of knowing you, that I love you this deeply already. It feels a little crazy and a lot scary. How will I have a child one day? The fear is immeasurable. You stood up when we visited, ears perked when you heard our voices – maybe these people aren’t going to leave me this time – if a dog has thoughts I’m sure that’s what was on your mind. Your cage was bloody and heart-breaking. You rested your head on my hand the whole visit through. My little love – the sweetest soul. Please be ok. Please. Please. Please.
Day 5: Thursday, 24 September 2020
You’re still there, still sick, still sleepy, still so grateful to see us. And now the fear is moving direction – what if my hope is misplaced? Is it ok to be positive and try picture you coming out of this? Is it ok that the crying has stopped and my heartbeat has slowed a little? Please be ok. Please. Please. Please.
Day 6: Friday, 25 September 2020
Yesterday was your last day on this earth. It was the last time I got to try and teach you love. It was the last time you looked up at me with the most beautiful, kind little brown eyes, the last time you rested your head in my hand. I take comfort knowing that I tried to give you a second chance at life, that I did everything I could, and yet there’s this indescribable tragedy of what if – the life we never got to share and the memories I never got to give you. I am in pain but that doesn’t matter to me – your future is what mattered to me. I already miss you. I miss everything we could have shared. I miss the things imagined, the toys not yet bought, the car seat I was going to buy you after pay day, the adventures that it would have led to.
I’m so sorry I could only show you a glimpse of what you deserved. But I hope in a way you knew – I hope that when you were sleeping and woke up just to look at me and check if I was still there, and then lay your head back down again, that was your way of saying “good, she’s still here, she cares.” I did my Rosie. I do. I will always love you, far more than I ever thought was possible in less than a week. The best-worst experience of my life. You were the most perfect angel, my dream dog, my little love, my biggest heartbreak, my lesson in things you can’t control and that are too painful to accept. But I tried. I would have tried anything for you. And I’d do it all over again just to have met and hoped for you. Sleep sweetly my Rosie Posey. I wouldn’t trade 5 days with you for 15 years with any other dog. You were perfect. I hope you came to know that.
Sunday, 27 September 2020
This time last week I was filled to the brim with happiness and hope. There’s a hole in my heart where you should be. You were my dream dog, and now I’m living in a nightmare. It’s one thing to lose a pet at the end of their life, it’s entirely different to lose them before it had even begun. All I wanted was to save you from your past; give you a better future. I now realise there’s nothing more tragic than something you can’t control, something you can’t change, something you can’t better. I just hope you closed your eyes knowing a bit more love than you did this time last week. My Rosie-Posey, my little love – you brought me so much of it. Thank you.
It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Anastasia Amy 