Last week, my
beautiful Sabi-pup went to sleep. We have
received so many lovely messages; we can’t thank you enough for all the love at
this sad time. Writing for me has always
been therapeutic so I wrote this, a letter to Sabi to help heal my broken
heart. I tend to keep this type of thing private but this felt different. Most of you know how much she meant to us and
maybe to you too so I have decided to share it.
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Dear Sabi,
I started to write this when I knew deep-down it was your
last days with us. You had an accident
which you never do. You wouldn’t eat
your food which is unheard of for a Labrador.
You wagged your tail at us but in your brown eyes I could see the pain,
you were letting us know. You came to
sit with us while we were watching TV.
You don’t usually, preferring the quiet sanctuary of your bed. And when I gave you pats, you didn’t give me
your paws so I could scratch your tummy, like you always do.
The next day, we saw your doctor and a specialist doctor to
confirm what we already knew but didn’t want to be true. I did a horrible job telling Eloise and Eden
after school but they understood how hard this was for me, for all of us. We all came to see you at the hospital. We thought we wouldn’t be able to bring you
home but we could. You wagged your tail
as much as you could so I knew you were happy to see us and go home. You almost seemed like your old self again,
just tired. You almost tricked us.
We gave you ham and sausage off our pizza which you
ate. We didn’t eat much, we weren’t
hungry. You peeked on the kids in the
playroom and kept your watchful eye on them until it was their bedtime. Eloise drew pictures of you and us. We made a mould of your paw print. You wondered what this was all about. You accepted their goodnight pats and stayed
downstairs. You usually would come
upstairs with us and listen to their stories too.
When Conor and I sat down for the night, you played one game
of “where’s daddy?” then settled in next to me.
I was exhausted but didn’t want to go to bed. I wanted to sit next to you and stroke your
ears as long as I could.
The next morning, I cleaned up your accident. “It’s okay”, I told you. You followed me upstairs into our bedroom to
sleep until daddy woke up. Just last
week, you followed me into the closest and found socks in the corner that only
you could find. I laughed and we played
“give… no, keep” for a few minutes. When
it was time to wake the kids, I asked you to come. You used to be my little helper and wake
Eloise up, nudging her with your nose.
You didn’t today. Last week, I
was making her bed and you jumped up un-invited. We laughed and you wagged your tail while we
gave you pats. I helped you up onto her bed one last time;
your legs couldn’t do it themselves. We
spent a few minutes there, patting you.
You put your paw on top of my hand like you always do. Thank you for that small gesture.
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| You are so loved. |
We took our last family photos together before the kids had
to go to school. I told them, that it
was time. When they got home, you
wouldn’t be home anymore. Eloise cried
and Eden was quiet, still not quite understanding. You went to your bed as normal, ready to
sleep the day away until we got home. Today,
Eloise came down to say her goodbyes. I
don’t know what she told you, that’s between you sisters. You would be so proud of how brave and strong
she was. Stronger than me. She told Eden that it was your time to sleep
so you wouldn’t be in pain anymore. It
was the best gift we could give to you. And
while you may not be here, you would be in his heart and brain (memories). Eden came down too. He rubbed your ears telling you, your “ears
are the comfiest” and “goodbye” in his matter-of-fact way.
We didn’t want to talk about it – a date. I couldn’t make the call and Conor couldn’t
bring himself to either. Just one more night, we both
thought. We knew we couldn’t. It was selfish. You wouldn’t even eat chicken. You never said no to chicken.
We had a few more hours with you. It was hard though. We couldn’t spoil you with your favourite
foods because you didn’t want to eat.
You were too weak to play. Conor
and I sat quietly with you outside (your garden) while you had a sleep in the
fresh air, the sun shining on you. You
loved your sun naps. You couldn’t seem
to settle though. You kept getting up
and aimlessly walking around. We knew it
was the right decision. When we moved
inside, you sat with us in your spot in the lounge room until it was time.
We walked you around your favourite spots at home one more
time. We gave you pats in each of those
spots. We put your bed in the car so you
could be comfortable on the way to see Dr Angela.
We were taken into a back room for privacy. We couldn’t hold it in anymore. Conor made the final arrangements. You and I had our time together. I told you how much I loved you, thanked you
for being the best dog I could ask for and that I know you will be watching
over us now. We sat you on the warm
towels. You were wondering why we were
fussing over you. I hugged you and cried
into your fur until you went to sleep.
We continued to pat you for some time after, tell you how much you were
part of our family and remembered how naughty you were as a puppy too (the
kitchen floor of our rental house and you chewing both my rugs from Turkey and
India. How high pitched your bark/ howl was the first night we brought you home. This night is otherwise known as Conor's longest night ever), managing to laugh a little.
When we picked up Eloise, she asked about you. I told her you were gone. She cried in the car. Eden wanted to see you. When we got home, the house felt strange without you. We looked at pictures of you. I cried because I couldn’t find too many in the last few years and again when I found them. Eloise was loud to fill the silence. We went to dinner in your honour. We talked about our favourite memories with you. There was Sandwich-gate and the Thai Chili-incident. The time you stole the painters’ paintbrush when your first house was being put on the market. How you would only wake Conor up to go to the toilet at night. How you couldn’t catch food without jumping. How you would give away the kids’ hiding places. How you would find anything soft to sleep on (stealing my rugs) and still at 10 years old, would sleep upside down.
That night, as I said goodnight to Eden, he said “Mama, I’m
sad-y”. I told him I know and that it
would take time to feel better. He said
“No more pain-y”. Then he asked me if
you sprouted your wings yet. I was
confused but understood and it made me smile.
He told me that when the clouds were low, you were close to us again. And when there were no clouds, it’s okay
because you were still there too. You
would always be there. (And in Eden’s
random way, he also added that you had lots of zombie slippers to chew).
I’ll miss you watching the car come into the garage from the
laundry window. I’ll miss how you
couldn’t greet us without something in your mouth. I’ll miss our “talks” (you happy growling)
when I get home from work. I’ll miss
your one leg stretch and Conor yelling out “Sabi, you forgot your leg!” I’ll
miss the sound of your nose banging against our bedroom door when you wanted to
sleep in there. And the sound of you
coming into the kitchen when you heard the microwave, egg cracking or a wrapper
opening. I’ll miss you opening the
backdoor but forgetting to close it. And
you stealing daddy’s socks, empty water bottles and more recently Eden’s zombie
slippers. I’ll miss you nudging me with
your nose and head for pats.
Sabi, thank you. Thank you for being such a good dog. You were my fur-baby. You were the best faithful companion. You were there when I was so homesick during
my first few years in Australia. You
were there when daddy worked nights… often sneaking into our bed. You were the star of our Christmas card. You were also a star in PowerPoint
presentations when I was in the animal health industry. You were there when I had terrible morning
sickness that lasted all day. You were
there when I was up at night feeding Eloise.
You were there when we were experiencing our firsts with Eloise and
getting into trouble with her too. You
were her first best friend. She called
you her furry sister. You were the best
patient when Eloise wanted to play doctor.
You were our extra hands to carry in the mail and groceries. You were there when we brought home Eden and
again, up with me in the middle of the night to feed him. Just the 3 of us. You were patient when Eden became scared of
dogs, making him love you again. You
were Eden’s chair while he watched TV. You
were Conor’s garden helper and his companion when he worked into the
night. You were the best ‘seeker’ at Hide
and Seek. You were our vacuum cleaner
after meals. You were more popular than
us when family and friends came over.
You didn’t just touch our lives but theirs too. Thank you for putting on a brave face for us
in your last days, you kept on wagging. You
were so much to us. You completed our
family and we are so much better for having had 10 years with you.
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| In your younger days, with your favourite: socks! |
Sabi Francis/ Sabi Pants/ The Boss/ Wabi/ Gus-Gus, may you
be free to chase birds and eat sticks, steal as many socks and empty water bottles as you ever wanted,
and sleep upside down. We will carry you
in our hearts always.
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“It’s been a long day without you, my friend. And I’ll tell you all about when I see you again”
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Postscript, the next morning:
When I woke
up, it had rained. It hadn’t rained in a
while; a clearing rain. The sky was
filled with low clouds, just like Eden and I talked about last night before he
drifted off to sleep. There was a slight
breeze and I knew you were there, ears flapping in the wind and socks in your
mouth watching over us like I asked you to.
