14 June 2004

Picnics and saying goodbye

The weather has finally warmed up enough to make us begin longing to go on a picnic. We've eaten outside in our pitiful little garden several evenings, watching the bees crawling around the purple velvet-like pansies I planted last fall. The fennel is large enough to eat, but the rest of the garden is just green shrubbery.

Yesterday Cat was on vacation from school, so we decided at the last minute to make some sandwiches and drive over to Wood's Farm estuary for our lunch, and a nice walk. As I made the food I was thinking how much Holly, our loaner Irish Setter, was going to enjoy the woods. Since we hadn't taken her in the car before I was a little nervous about her being nervous in the car.

I grabbed the retractable lead and ran up to the neighbors to fetch Holly. She was happy to see me, wagging her tail and trying to jump up. At the last minute, as we reached the black iron gates, she drew back, which seemed a bit strange. Then I realized that I was disrupting her routine ... her family was getting ready to eat lunch before leaving for a funeral. She would miss the tidbits from the table.

Holly was fine in the car. She settled right down as we made our way through the obstacle course of the High Street shopping area. In another five minutes we were at the estuary and Holly jumped right out, acting as if she was a puppy. She quickly ran around the parking area sniffing every little corner.

The estuary is actually just a big wooded area with a couple of small ponds. We made our way through the woods to a clearing where we ate our lunch. Holly was eager to get going again by the time we finished eating.

After about an hour we had made our way around the circular walk of the woods. Holly was moving slowly as we all climbed back into the car. She was worn out from her big adventure.

Back at home she insisted on going back up to her garden. That was usual. She always loved to just rest in the back yard, looking like a queen as she watched the tall shrubs for rabbits or squirrels.

About an hour later a neighbor knocked on the door and said we should come right away. Something was wrong with Holly.

I ran up the hill, and through the iron gate. When I came around the back of the house I saw Holly struggling to walk, and then falling over.

She turned to look longingly at me. She wagged her tail. Her beautiful red coat was covered in saliva. She was obviously having some sort of a seizure.

I sat down on the lawn to comfort her. By now it had started to drizzle. We waited together as she jerked and twitched endlessly. I massaged her back. At one point Cat sat with her while I ran down to the house to get some Rescue Remedy, a homeopathic remedy, to try to calm her down.

At the end of two hours the neighbors returned from the funeral. Holly was exhausted. We loaded her into the car, and off they drove to the vets.

This morning the neighbors came down to tell me Holly had a brain tumor. As we were speaking, the vet was putting her to sleep.

It's hard to describe how it feels to love another soul on this earth. It's even harder to say goodbye. I will be incredibly lonely without her -- her cold nose in my hand, her bark from the other side of the garden wall telling me to come and get her. I will miss the trust she gave me, the way she liked to stand resting against my leg while I was talking to someone. I will miss our walks and our time just being together in the garden. The worst part is giving up the plans I had for her to come to our farm with us ... where she would have every day to spend enjoying her old age.

There will be other dogs in my future. I will love them too, but they will not be Holly.