I started this particular post several weeks again, and could not get further than choosing the photos. The one on the left is Toffee in one of his mellow moments; the one on the right is Toffee in his final moments, cuddling in a warm and soft blanket on my lap, at the animal hospital.
The assistant told me to take as long as I needed before calling for the vet. That was after I settled the bill with the financial person. (I would hate to have her job — who wants to take money from someone who is certainly grieving the imminent loss of a best friend). I don’t remember how much time I sat there, gently talking, crying and comforting Toffee. I do remember wishing that I had more days, months and years with him, but I couldn’t bear the thought of Toffee being so sick and in pain, and all alone in the hospital cage. So, I knew what had to be done, but this “playing God” and decided when a life needed to end is so far out of my comfort zone that I to stop thinking about it emotionally. I needed to be practical and logical in my thinking.
About 2 or 3 years ago a friend and mentor was diagnosed with ALS. We kept in touch throughout his illness, sharing Facebook messages, and visiting when I was able to travel. Then one day he announced that he was heading off on a new adventure. I knew what he meant, but had a hard time accepting that he had chosen assisted death. Maybe it’s because of my deep-rooted early religious training, that death was God’s decision, and not ours to decide. I saw assisted death as giving up — giving up hope, abandoning family and friends, and basically selfish. But I knew that my friend was none of these. He was one of the most generous and caring people I have ever known. Choosing assisted death was his way of freeing his family and friends and allowing them to grieve, yet move on. Caring for someone who has been diagnosed with a terminal illness prolongs the grief. You start grieving long before they are gone, because every step of the way you are grieving the loss of many things, including their freedom to live as they used to.
Every experience in life, whether good or bad, stressful or carefree, teaches us something. Before Toffee, I had no idea that I could love a dog. When he came into my life, courtesy of Michael’s best friend and my children, I immediately fell in love with him! He taught me how to be less afraid of other dogs, how allow routine into my life, and many other things. Losing him taught me about compassion for other pet owners. I didn’t realize how much grief they would be feeling after losing a pet…until I lost my own. I also had no idea of the difficulty around making that final decision. Deep down I always thought those who choose assisted death for their pet were slightly selfish and lacked compassion. I was wrong.
I miss Toffee every day. When I walk into the house there is still those few seconds where I am expecting to be greeted by the scampering of feet. When I walk out the patio doors I quickly start closing them to not allow him to escape, then I realize nothing/no-one is trying to escape.
One day I will get used to the empty silence.
Reflections 