This is a blog that’s been sitting like a lead weight in my stomach. The shortest way to start it is just to say that we put Wilma to sleep. So many of you contacted me with messages of support following my last blog about our remarkable little pet that I knew I’d have to share this with you, when all I really want to do is put it in a quiet little place while the scab thickens.
Still, a thing I’ve learned that has helped me through a lot of things is the idea that when one door closes another opens. I use it with my clients to help them gain perspective on the bad things that litter their past, but we’ve found it can also help with a present misery; not just to wait for a new door to open, but to actually choose a door that might lead to something good coming from something bad and turn the knob yourself. So this is about that, rather than just me howling at the moon.
Despite our hopes to the contrary, Wilma was in decline. While we waited for lab results from Italy identifying a degenerative nerve disease, the evidence of something amiss beyond her two-brainedness was building before our eyes. Her anxiety increased to a point where it was nearly ever-present – on one occasion she circled the kitchen table for three hours without us being able to distract her. The only relief she seemed to get was when she played with Betty, or in the evening when everything slowed down as we watched the TV. She’d either fall into an exhausted rest on my lap, or crawl onto Bex’s chest and sleep like a baby. She became ever more obsessive – food being her last fad; she lived for the routines of meal times, or morning coffee which she joined in with us with a favourite treat that she wouldn’t let us forget. At the same time her incontinence continued unabated, as did her barking at each and every sudden sound or unfamiliar visitor. There didn’t seem to us to be very much quality to her day, it was just something for her to survive. It was no way to live her life, but it still felt a massive and dreadful responsibility to choose to deprive her of it. Mercifully, after we’d finally grasped the nettle, something happened on her final evening that was awful and yet reassuring: she lost the use of her back legs for about twenty minutes, something we’d seen hints of for several days. We knew then that we were right.
We took her to our lovely vet Alastair, who saved her for the first time at 11 weeks of age, and who struggled not to join in the tears. All I can bring myself to say about the event itself is that the first thing she did when we met was lick my nose, and it was the last thing she did as we parted. Sad, sad, sad. It is an appalling thing to see beauty die by your hand, however sound you know your motivation to be.
And so I want to move quickly on to the door that opened. Betty and Wilma had formed a friendship that, while odd, we felt she would be sad at losing. We’d also discovered that two dogs are more than twice the fun of one. And so, a week before the date we booked with Alastair, we brought home another puppy. Fred – obviously we had to keep the Flintstones theme going but I’m not going to shout “Pebbles!” in a public park, and Bex didn’t fancy Bam Bam. It worked. In just a week he and Betty became inseparable – interestingly he never once approached Wilma – and heartbreakingly for us, Betty seemed to move away from her too. It was a bitter-sweet week where we could give her the best of our attention and love in the knowledge of what was to come.
But we definitely opened a door. Perhaps as a defence mechanism we have fallen deeply in love with them both, as individuals and as a pair. They are a delight. Fred is a feisty, cheeky little boy whose tail wags every time he catches your eye, and Betty – nicknamed ‘practically perfect’ – at only five months old has absolutely taken on the mantle of older sister. Just their very normality after Wilma brings a pleasure. Just to see them drink water is a reason to pause and smile, while watching their playing takes up an awful lot of our day – notice I didn’t say wastes; I’m sure the chemicals they release in us are wonderfully beneficial. Although every time I watch them my mind briefly flicks to Wilma and I get a stab of sadness about what we hoped her life with us would be, already when we speak of her it’s about the things we loved about her, and anyway, I want that sadness for a while. Neither of us regret the year we had. She helped us get through the loss of Barney, and she brought Betty and Fred into our lives. And more than that, I think sometimes you grow just by caring for someone who needs you. Whenever she relaxed in my arms I felt privileged that I made her feel safe, and I’m sure Bex felt the same way. We all gained from each other, and we’ve all lost, but life is a series of ups and downs, and sometimes you just have to accept that some downs have particularly steep slopes, don’t you? I know I over-attach to dogs, but like Winston Churchill once remarked about alcohol, I take a lot more from them than they take from me. Love is worth the loss. The question that helps me through it is, what can you turn the loss into? On this occasion the answer was more love.
Interestingly the weight has disappeared from my stomach now I’ve written this, which reminds me of another thing I’ve learned: Never leave difficult things ahead of you if you can avoid it; put them behind you as soon as you can.
So, bless her heart, she was an awesome little life, and she can rest easy now. And I’d like you to look through the door we opened and say hello to our little Flintstones. May we be blessed with many years together.
What a year 2011 has been, so full of mixed emotions! Wilma will always have a special place in your heart along with Barney, and what fun you will have with Fred and Betty. Thanks for sharing your journey with us x
Oh Trevor, you’ve written that so beautifully. There is nothing I can say that will stop the hurting, but I am sending both you and Bex all the love and hugs that I have. Wilma is at peace now, and will live on in spirit through Betty and Fred, so in many ways, she’s actually still with you. Thinking of you xxx
Big hugs to you and Bex.x
Wilma was such a special soul, sent to you for a reason and you and Bex gave her all she could wish for. Sending you Bex and Betty loads of love and hugs and welcome to Fred……..
Wilma has probably been united with Barney now as they watch over you……
Reiki goes out to you all. xxxxx
Here’s to Wilma! A beautiful spirit that now shines even brighter in our hearts xxx
Sad to read about Wilma, but it seems she was never destined to live a long life. That’s hard to cope with – but I’m sure you made her short life as good as it could possibly be. So now you have your memories of her AND some new happiness in your lives.
Here’s hoping you won’t be troubling the vet again for a very long time.
Trevor and Bex I am sorry to hear about Wilma I am way to attached to my dog molly too but as you say the love is worth it. Wilma couldn’t have chosen a better couple to share her life with no matter how long or short that would be. Will be thinking of you, Tina
What a beautiful blog, Trev. Had me sobbing it did. But you have the Wisdom to *allow* another door to open. Something I can learn from you.
Wilma’s short little visit had its reasons, and she will definitely be with Barney now, watching over you and your family.
My heart goes out to you and Bex.
Sending you both healing hugs,
Cher xxx
On the train and a tear just dropped reading that.
Nothing else to say other than I’m sorry and excited for you in equal measures.
Zack
So sorry Trevor and Bex. I haven’t got over my beloved Yorkie Lulabelle leaving us this year. But you’re right- you gain so much from having pets, makes all the heartache worthwhile.
Love Carolyn
So sorry to hear the sad news about Wilma, she was such a little sweetie bringing so much joy and fun. A lovely little canine energy, a gift for a short time and she was so obviously cherished. Hopefully she is in doggy heaven having fun with Barney and looking down on your new family member, another special little life to love.
Big hugs, Karen x
Sending my love to you and Bex.
So sad but so beautifully written still a pleasure to read.
Love and life the downs are part of living and loving.
Learning to enjoy, treasure, savour as life enfolds is something Quest and You, Trevor have taught me
This blog is another demonstration of you walking the talk
That was a really lovely blog, having been in the same position a few years ago and reacted in a similar way.
We had to let our wonderful Zara go but then found our gorgeous Sophie, she has really helped us move forward but never forgetting Zara.
Lots of love to both of you X
Thank you for making me stop a moment and contemplate all that is beautiful and matters in life.
Love and blessings in your pain and in your joy.
XX Tina
Dear Trevor and Bex,
I really don’t think Wilma could have had a better home. Her whole life was a challenge and you took the time to understand her and to love and care for her in all ways, and at times it must have been heartbreaking.
Some souls have a difficult journey, if they meet others on the way who make that journey easier then they’re all blessed. I’m so glad you found each other.
Thinking of you, sending lots of love and looking forward to hearing about the antics of Fred and Betty.
Hilary xxx
So terribly sorry to hear about Wilma and sending a big hug to you and Bex. Your blog puts everything so well. Ten days ago I had to go through the same process with my old girl, Cleo, and her absence
is everywhere and we realise the quiet role a good collie had in keeping her family well shepherded. But you are so right, Love is such a huge gift and worth the loss.
Wishing you the happiest of times with Fred and Betty
Love, Joa xx
So sad, yet so beautifully written – you made me cry Trevor, but I am smiling too. Thank your for sharing this with us and for being , as always an inspiration. Love to you and Bex, and to Fred and Betty too! I will light a candle for Wilma…
Love Gill x
Thank you for sharing this Trevor, so sad but incredibly touching – not a dry eye in the house!
Wilma was a gift, and a great teacher – part of which we were able to share with you because of your wonderful way of putting it into words.
Lots of love to all of you.
Sharon
If you are not a dog behaviourist, perhaps you should consider it.
I have been forwarded your blog on Wilma by one of our lovely customers, as she thought Wilma’s story bore striking resemblence to a story of equal inspiration, love & tragedy that we were priviledged to experience. We too had a dog, a rescue who joined us earlier this year, whom I thought you were writing about, albeit just changing her name to Wilma. She too had a deformed Corpus and she too exhibited identical behaviours, sadly, she too has joined Wilma chasing squirrels in the clouds at almost the exact same time.
Having by chance pointed out the deformity to a neuro consultant after looking at MRI results following a collapse and subsequent coma, we realised that there was a rationale reason for her somewhat unique and challenging behaviours.
Your understanding of her behaviour is identical to our own conclusions of our little Angel, your outlook of sharing your time with her is equally as heart warming and the love you gave and love you received is on point.
Not wishing to detract from your little girl, but here is a link to some photo’s of ours if you are interested: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.193772314043433.52808.152190388201626&type=1&l=e33ecbb0cf
Please take comfort knowing everything you worked out, embraced and did for your little Wilma, is almost word for word the same as we did, the only difference being we look after dogs professionally..
Well done Sir, Halo Dogs salutes you
It was kind of you to take the time to reply, and a great comfort to read. I had a look on your website and loved your obvious love and passion for dogs. I’ll leave the dog psychology to you though, apart from where Fred and Betty are concerned:)