In Loving Memory of Sabi Francis

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. 

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.

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.

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. 

“It’s been a long day without you, my friend. And  I’ll tell you all about when I see you again”

– Wiz Khalifa

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.