Willow passed away last Saturday.
When I went downstairs to give the 3 of them breakfast that morning he was nowhere to be seen - that used to happen occasionally but he's never strayed far this past year and would always come in seconds later.
5 minutes passed.
My heart sank.
10 minutes passed.
My heart sank even farther.
I opened both the front and back door. That would normally bring him running.
Nothing.
Now my heart was racing.
I scanned the front garden, paying careful attention to a bush that him and Snarf had been sheltering under recently when the sun got too hot. I thought I saw a patch of ginger in amongst the branches but it was too difficult to make out because the morning was so misty. So I got my boots on, opened the front door - and my worst fears were realised. He was lying there so peacefully but there was no movement when I frantically called his name and that heart which had beat so horrifically fast for over a year, was completely still.
I tried to take comfort in the fact that I know they look for solitary spots when they feel the end is near and prefer to die alone but all I could do was wail about why did it have to be sooooo much cooler that morning instead of warm and sunny like it had been for so many of the past weeks - and of course torture myself that he may have lain for hours dying and been unable to get into the house to reach me.
He wasn't very stiff at that point so that induced more torture wondering if I had just got up half an hour earlier could I have saved him? But then I realised if he had still been alive when I found him I would have frantically tried to get him across to the vet which would have been awful and he may have died in the car or even worse, at the vets.
When Jamie died, it was such a shock that I had to hold his body for hours until it was completely stiff so that my brain could come to terms with the fact that he really was gone. With Willow - even though I knew he'd been living on borrowed time for a good while now - it was even worse. I wrapped him in a fleece blanket and it just looked like he was sleeping. I found that stroking his wee ginger head was incredibly calming and helped the grief process so much but I could tell there was a real danger I wasn't going to be able to let go and bury him! Thankfully Ian & Margaret (brother & sister-in-law) had come through the night before for the weekend so as soon as Ian heard the news, he came over and gave me a much-needed hug and let me cry it out then said he'd be back as soon as he could (he had to go to a booked lunch with his daughter & his son-in-law).
I told him not to worry because Nikki said she'd come over to say goodbye to Willow and right enough she appeared with the girls about 10 minutes after Ian left. I was actually coping a lot better by then and found the girls were a good distraction for me so I busied myself giving them lunch and playing with them. Nikki went upstairs and came down about half an hour later, plonked herself on the settee and asked if I wanted some more bad news? It appeared to be a rhetorical question because my answer of no thanks made absolutely no difference whatsoever but I'll save that for another entry because I'm angry enough that she completely derailed Willow's last day and made it all about herself - I'm not letting her derail this entry as well. (Suffice to say if you've been reading me for several years and know my Nikki, you'll probably be able to have a good stab at what part of it was!)
(I've been trying to write this entry for a week and instead have had to deal with a shitload of her selfish drama - honestly she brings irresponsibility to a whole new level!).
Anyway after a couple of hours of her shenanigans, she went back upstairs and promptly fell asleep until I woke her at 5 p.m. because I was absolutely exhausted and wanted to meet up with Ian & Margaret for tea. I'm glad to say I managed that - we just had takeout at my niece, Cat's house, so that made it easier and I was able to stay out until 9.30 p.m.
Coming home was really hard as was the next morning but Ian came back over in the afternoon and helped me dig a hole out the back. When it came to the bit though, I found I just couldn't bury him so as it was a really hot day, we left the hole open (Willow wasn't in it!) and sat and had a cuppa and a good long chat then picked up Margaret and went out to tea to a nearby restaurant. Again I was able to stay out until 9.30 and it helped so much to be distracted like that for most of the weekend.
Being buried out the back didn't sit right with me for various reasons - for one thing it was a mess of weeds out there and crazy though it might seem, I didn't want to bury him in a mess but there was also far more of an overall connection to the front garden so on Tuesday I got the spade and set to and at teatime he was finally laid to rest. The hole's not nearly deep enough so I may have the consequences of that to deal with at some later stage but I'll cross that bridge if I come to it. Luckily the house is in a sort of cul de sac so there are no passing animals as such and I'm hoping to get some stones to lay on top as well as some sort of marker or gravestone so that that may deter any nocturnal digging.
I want to take my time and look for something appropriate when I'm more up to it.
He was always going to be the hardest of the 3 of them to say goodbye to - he had by far the biggest personality - and although it's especially hard in the mornings because he would cuddle up to me in bed or sit up at my head on my pillow when I went back to bed, there's also the fact that because I was so ill when he was diagnosed, we were able to have lots of extra loving time in the last 9 months which we might not otherwise have had.
I still can't believe I'm never going to see those big fat, furry paws again, feel that silky forehead rub against my cheek or see that cute little face sitting at the bottom of the garden path, waiting to welcome me home.
There's a big Willow-shaped hole in this house - not to mention my heart.
Rest in peace my wee man.
When I went downstairs to give the 3 of them breakfast that morning he was nowhere to be seen - that used to happen occasionally but he's never strayed far this past year and would always come in seconds later.
5 minutes passed.
My heart sank.
10 minutes passed.
My heart sank even farther.
I opened both the front and back door. That would normally bring him running.
Nothing.
Now my heart was racing.
I scanned the front garden, paying careful attention to a bush that him and Snarf had been sheltering under recently when the sun got too hot. I thought I saw a patch of ginger in amongst the branches but it was too difficult to make out because the morning was so misty. So I got my boots on, opened the front door - and my worst fears were realised. He was lying there so peacefully but there was no movement when I frantically called his name and that heart which had beat so horrifically fast for over a year, was completely still.
I tried to take comfort in the fact that I know they look for solitary spots when they feel the end is near and prefer to die alone but all I could do was wail about why did it have to be sooooo much cooler that morning instead of warm and sunny like it had been for so many of the past weeks - and of course torture myself that he may have lain for hours dying and been unable to get into the house to reach me.
He wasn't very stiff at that point so that induced more torture wondering if I had just got up half an hour earlier could I have saved him? But then I realised if he had still been alive when I found him I would have frantically tried to get him across to the vet which would have been awful and he may have died in the car or even worse, at the vets.
When Jamie died, it was such a shock that I had to hold his body for hours until it was completely stiff so that my brain could come to terms with the fact that he really was gone. With Willow - even though I knew he'd been living on borrowed time for a good while now - it was even worse. I wrapped him in a fleece blanket and it just looked like he was sleeping. I found that stroking his wee ginger head was incredibly calming and helped the grief process so much but I could tell there was a real danger I wasn't going to be able to let go and bury him! Thankfully Ian & Margaret (brother & sister-in-law) had come through the night before for the weekend so as soon as Ian heard the news, he came over and gave me a much-needed hug and let me cry it out then said he'd be back as soon as he could (he had to go to a booked lunch with his daughter & his son-in-law).
I told him not to worry because Nikki said she'd come over to say goodbye to Willow and right enough she appeared with the girls about 10 minutes after Ian left. I was actually coping a lot better by then and found the girls were a good distraction for me so I busied myself giving them lunch and playing with them. Nikki went upstairs and came down about half an hour later, plonked herself on the settee and asked if I wanted some more bad news? It appeared to be a rhetorical question because my answer of no thanks made absolutely no difference whatsoever but I'll save that for another entry because I'm angry enough that she completely derailed Willow's last day and made it all about herself - I'm not letting her derail this entry as well. (Suffice to say if you've been reading me for several years and know my Nikki, you'll probably be able to have a good stab at what part of it was!)
(I've been trying to write this entry for a week and instead have had to deal with a shitload of her selfish drama - honestly she brings irresponsibility to a whole new level!).
Anyway after a couple of hours of her shenanigans, she went back upstairs and promptly fell asleep until I woke her at 5 p.m. because I was absolutely exhausted and wanted to meet up with Ian & Margaret for tea. I'm glad to say I managed that - we just had takeout at my niece, Cat's house, so that made it easier and I was able to stay out until 9.30 p.m.
Coming home was really hard as was the next morning but Ian came back over in the afternoon and helped me dig a hole out the back. When it came to the bit though, I found I just couldn't bury him so as it was a really hot day, we left the hole open (Willow wasn't in it!) and sat and had a cuppa and a good long chat then picked up Margaret and went out to tea to a nearby restaurant. Again I was able to stay out until 9.30 and it helped so much to be distracted like that for most of the weekend.
Being buried out the back didn't sit right with me for various reasons - for one thing it was a mess of weeds out there and crazy though it might seem, I didn't want to bury him in a mess but there was also far more of an overall connection to the front garden so on Tuesday I got the spade and set to and at teatime he was finally laid to rest. The hole's not nearly deep enough so I may have the consequences of that to deal with at some later stage but I'll cross that bridge if I come to it. Luckily the house is in a sort of cul de sac so there are no passing animals as such and I'm hoping to get some stones to lay on top as well as some sort of marker or gravestone so that that may deter any nocturnal digging.
I want to take my time and look for something appropriate when I'm more up to it.
He was always going to be the hardest of the 3 of them to say goodbye to - he had by far the biggest personality - and although it's especially hard in the mornings because he would cuddle up to me in bed or sit up at my head on my pillow when I went back to bed, there's also the fact that because I was so ill when he was diagnosed, we were able to have lots of extra loving time in the last 9 months which we might not otherwise have had.
I still can't believe I'm never going to see those big fat, furry paws again, feel that silky forehead rub against my cheek or see that cute little face sitting at the bottom of the garden path, waiting to welcome me home.
There's a big Willow-shaped hole in this house - not to mention my heart.
Rest in peace my wee man.
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