It’s been just over a week since we said goodbye to you. A week of re-adjustments and changing of habits. One bowl of food, not two. One handful of biscuits, not two. I keep looking for you and hearing your bark. Even though you’re gone, you’re still very much in our hearts and minds.
Brussels Griffon. You’re not a common breed of dog and when describing you, I always refer to the movie “As good as it gets” with Verdell. But that’s not how we ended up choosing you.
13 years ago, KK was not a big dog fan. When picking a dog breed, instead of strolling through kennels at the SPCA, he paged through a dog directory narrowing down his choices based on size, hair shedding and outdoor space requirements. The entry for a Brussels Griffon was a match!
We found a breeder in Durban and within a few months, you arrived. Just like the catalogue had described, you were “full of self-importance, happy, spunky, spirited, and comical.”
From day one, you were an escape artist. You managed to get out of the dining room, up stairs and set the alarm off while we were at work. For a couple who had decided not to have kids, we ended up installing a baby gate in the kitchen to keep you inside during the day with a little dog flap in the back door to come and go as you please.
You were always the first to dash outside an open door to greet guests and run trails along the bottom of the garden, barking at the neighbors dogs behind the wall.
You exploded with boundless energy and life. I can still remember hearing your laughter as you raced up the stairs and flew onto the bed. Or making sure you snuggled behind us on the couch to watch TV. The breeder warned us that this position meant you were establishing yourself as the “Leader” of the household. True words indeed.
There are so many memories of you in my head. The way you walked (pulled) on the lead. How you kick-boxed me when I was dishing up your supper. Watching you stalking and chasing the haadedahs.
In December 2015, our lives changed and a tumour was found on one of your adrenal glands. We were “lucky” that it had been caught early and successfully removed. But you were never quite the same after that. You lost your sparkle.
Suddenly old age caught up with you. You had started to go deaf and blind fast. When KK would arrive home from work, you wouldn’t run to the door anymore because you hadn’t heard him come home. If you couldn’t see or hear me in the room, you’d be frantic. You battled to jump on the couch and I started carrying you up and down the stairs in case you slipped and fell down them (which happened often when you ran down ahead of me). You refused to give up.
A little fighter. The ghastly Lenisilone drugs started to take their toll. Mood swings. Bloated belly. Hunger. You weren’t comfortable. A bout of pancreatitis meant a change in diet. Low fat kibbles and tin food. No more grated cheese snacks.
You held on for another two years before your body gave in. A growth discovered in your belly and on your liver, inflammation of the stomach lining, suspected Cushing’s disease… I’m grateful for the doctors at Fourways Veterinary Hospital for their list of life-saving options but we made the decision to not pursue treatment. 12 years & 9 months is a good age for a dog. We made sure you had an amazing life. We refused to let you spend your last few years in and out of hospital and on medication.
We said our goodbyes on the 30 April. You spent your last day pottering around in the garden, barking at our neighbor’s painter on the roof. For lunch you had a big bowl of cheese and biltong and enjoyed a walk through the complex with your sister. I hugged you at every moment I could and stared at you while you slept in the warm afternoon sun. Emma would tiptoe up to you and sniff your sleeping face. She knew.
When we drove you to the family vet, you were calm. You didn’t struggle. KK and I stayed with you till the very end. We owed you that.
But my heart is broken. KK’s heart is sore and Emma is lost and confused. She misses you so much and you know how much she hates being alone.
But we did the right thing. You were not suffering. You were not in pain. You were uncomfortable but happy.
A lot of people often refer to my dogs as “my children” because KK and I have chosen not to have kids. I always correct them saying, “No, these are dogs. No comparison to actual children.” But when I think of the love and joy that you brought us Annie, I think you were a pretty good substitute. You loved us so much! And we loved you. We called you Panks and I was your mom and KK, Mr non-dog lover, was your biggest fan.
We will miss your smile, your stern face and your joy!