It’s been too long since I’ve been here and created a post. I’m not often lost for words as Joe (and most people who know me!) will tell you but the last 18months has had me sometimes lost for words and more commonly, unable to fully articulate into words what my heart wants to say. And my heart still cannot take putting some of this down in writing. Because putting things into writing, committing it to virtual print makes it permanent in a way that is still hard to reconcile.
We lost our beautiful Queen Bea 14 months ago.
Fourteen months have passed and my eyes still flood with tears for her and my heart aches for her with the same intensity it did the day she left us.
When adopting our greyhounds, we had researched and knew and logically understood that these were more likely to have longer term health issues than your average 4/5 year old dog. The racing industry was not kind to these dogs, we were taking on the responsibility to provide all they had been lacking and ensuring love, comfort and the best of life going forward.
We just hoped for longer.
Queen Bea was raced until she was 6 and a half. When she strolled in and took control of the house, she did so already showing signs of arthritis. We knew this and adjusted our house and schedule to what she needed – a flying Bea being carried by her Daddy up the stairs; short sniff filled strolls, evenings and nights curled up into people on the sofas and beds.
Not long after, we began to suspect other issues. Our vet repeatedly tested and confirmed her kidneys were failing. A change of diet and routine and again, whatever she needed to keep her comfortable and happy. And she was, we hope so much that she was.
The end we were not expecting – it was sudden and thankfully for her largely pain free. Cancer of the blood vessels of her spleen and a rupture that was for her mercifully quick and she went in my arms, a matter of hours after she woke from a nap on my lap and had raided the kitchen worktop and managed to steal an entire baking tray (including the tray itself!) of chicken back to her bed.
She had 18 months. 18 months of being cuddled on a sofa and a bed, of being spoiled and loved and being the centre of the world for Joe, Sam and I. That was not long enough, but it will never be long enough.
The pain of losing her, so suddenly and when she seemed to be so comfortable and well – I’m not sure that ever goes away. I still look for her little mouse dog face with the white nose marking, still hear her bark when she thinks it’s dinner time, still cry when I think of these things.
But I wouldn’t trade that feeling for the world. Because to not feel that would have meant to not have Bea, to not know Bea, to not love Bea. To have been privileged enough to do that is worth every tear we shed for her. If we had known from the beginning that’s how it was going to end, we would not have changed a thing.
Grief is the price we pay for love and we would pay that over and over again to love her and to have been loved by her.
No words seem suitable Jenny. I have tears rolling down my checks for you and Bea and I only knew her through Amy talking about you all so often xx thank god Bea did get to know what it was like to be loved and pampered xxx