The void left by our little friend is immense. It’s extraordinary how the 2nd smallest member of our house, about a foot high from head to paw, filled our house with the clip clop of his paws, his sighs, barks, sniffs, and presence as he carried out his daily errands.
The silence overwhelms. The absence of the friendly nudge to open a door to check up on us as we work. The rituals of his day no more.
In their place; an empty bed, the low hum of insects, and the uncanny sense that the world is disordered. When it isn’t distressing, it’s unsettling.
Oh how we miss you little man.
It also weighs heavily on us that we went against our instincts in Fredder’s treatment when he suddenly became ill. He lost critical treatment time and his death earlier this month may have been avoidable, or at least we could have bought him more time.
Unfortunately, the support from his veterinary clinic was not what we hoped for in the short period of illness before his death. It wasn’t the service we had encountered in the past before they became a corporate-owned practice. My prior experience, and my parents’ experience of their sister practice, was always great continuity of care & support from the practice principals at difficult times. Such support provides peace of mind & reassurance as our dogs age. The feeling that illnesses are managed and emergency care will be available if necessary.
We will likely ponder what happened for months to come. It was a prefect storm of bad luck for our poor little friend. It broke our hearts.
We have done our best to honour Fredder and the bountiful store of wonderful memories he gave us. His grave is a poignant memorial to our shared love. There’s some catharsis in the time invested. We both believe, and I suspect the feeling will persist, that he died before his time. There was no slow-down & obvious signs of ill health, but a calamity that wasn’t dealt with as best it could.