Moira: We love you

Elvis played in the background.  Any other artist I probably wouldn’t notice, but this wasn’t the first time I’ve heard his music while mourning a dog. This time though, it’s different…she’s still alive but her appointment was set. Kids were blissfully unaware of the call I made Monday morning and we wanted to keep them that way just a little bit longer.  Knowing that you’re going to pull the rug out from under the ones you love is awful. I on the other hand, have known this day was coming for a long while.

Moira’s of right mind but her body was tired and it was time to let the big dog go.

I was cocky enough to think I could call the vet and remain professional while booking this appointment. Afterall, she will be the 14th dog I’ve mourned so I’ll be fine, right?

“I’d like to book Moira’s euthanasia appointment please” came out shaky and sobbed. Staring at my appointment book, it got blurrier as reception met my sadness with understanding and empathy. This doesn’t get easier.

Moira’s not a heroic dog, or a total clown, like others. She isn’t protective and never cared to learn tricks. But what I can tell you is, and if you’ve had the luxury of meeting her you’ll agree; she’s steady.

A friend to everyone. Demanding affection by way of sitting at your feet, her chin at your mid-torso, and staring.  I learned to warn people if they petted her, and then stopped, she’d get taller. Never putting front feet on the human but just to say “yeah hi. I’m still here.” like she’s hard to miss.

Moira brought hope to many of my clients with reactive dogs. They could bark, lunge, do all the things; and she’d just lay there in the grass raising an eyebrow, confidently calling their bluff.  The clients would wish they had a dog like Moira and I’d remind them that that’s not trained, she’s just that kind.

Her nature was pure love, patience, and a dog that still got up to greet us, day in and day out even though we wanted to be the ones coming to her.  Despite our asks, and hurried action thinking if we get to her faster, she won’t stand up; her muscles quiver and body groans as she gets her back legs organized enough to come say hi. Tail wagging and eyes staring.

I had a whole day of managing my own grief before we told the girls. Breaking the news to them that Moira’s final day will be Thursday was met with a variety of emotions.  Sitting with them through it and supporting them is all a parent can do.

Watching kids grieve is an interesting thing – it looks like selfishness pulls them out of sadness to start laughing again, but I think it’s because no one has judged them for it yet.  I made a point to explain to them that them laughing and having fun doesn’t mean they loved Moira any less – sadness comes in waves and it’s important to just feel whatever it is they’re feeling. Something I’ve only learned recently.

Wednesday night we all gathered around her, Poppy laying near Moira’s rear end like she did when Poppy was a pup. Garth watching us from behind, sneaking a lick in when a tear needing wiping. We all said our favourite things about the old girl while she laid and listened. Afterwards, our youngest wanted to have a cuddle on the couch so we left the dogs and sat in the chair. Then Garth, a dog who knows to stay in the porch, comes tip toeing through the house, sniffing things along the way, gives us a hello and turns his body as if to stand guard. A sad kid needs protecting.

I’ve always thought dogs have a way of knowing things and what to do when needed, and this instance was no different.

We kept her in the porch overnight - or so we tried. Her last night with us was identical to her first night with us: off to the shop in the middle of the night because she was over it.

The final morning was a quiet one and I brought them all inside for one more visit before her last trip to town. Loading her in the car was a challenge and a slip was met with a yelp; confirmation that I didn’t know I needed. Everything was just so hard for her.

I brought Garth with Moira and I and now I see why clowns aren’t at usually at funerals. Although, his antics were a great distraction during her final moments and I needed a laugh. Before she lied down to get more comfortable, she panted hot dog breath right into my face - any other time I would’ve moved her away or ducked out - but if you’ve euthanized a dog before; everything is treasured.

I pressed the buzzer for the vet and after a few minutes Moira relaxed into death like she’d been waiting for this type of comfort for some time.

I don’t know what Garth will do…as I write this he’s trotting laps around the house as if he’s looking for her. His attachment to her was intense - more so than any of the other dogs - so I hoped him being with her as she passed helps him in some way.

Before I called the vet that Monday morning, I pulled her final cards asking if she’s ready: Love, Flow, New Beginnings.

Enjoy your new beginnings, Moira. Until we meet again.