I took William to the vets today for his boosters and as we sat waiting we watched a man bringing in his dog to be euthanized.
It was a dreadful scene to witness, and was as upsetting as anything I have witnessed on intensive care.
The owner, who was presumably with his grown up son, refused to accompany the dog ( an elderly Labrador ) into the examination room and said his goodbyes in front of the half filled waiting room , with all of us sitting there with our pets trying not to notice.
" my girl......my poor poor girl" the man sobbed over and over again ,
His face pressed tightly into his dog's neck
The younger man was equally upset and looked incredibly at a loss at what to do until the receptionist
thankfully ushered owners and dog into what looked like an office, to continue their goodbyes in private.
We could still hear the man's sobs, with the door shut and one woman customer , almost in tears herself , quickly got up and walked outside.
I almost followed her.
William sat quietly on my knee watching the situation like All Welsh terriers do
And as I kissed the top of his head, grateful for his continued good health
This Kipling poem going around in my head as the waiting room customers and our animals sat in an icy silence
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find - it's your own affair, -
But ... you've given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!),
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone - wherever it goes - for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear!
We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent,
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve;
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long -
So why in - Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
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A Quick note of thanks to end with
I must thank three friends who have sent a load of home made crafts, knitting and sewing to sell at the flower Show. Anne Marie, Kathryn Mc Glynn and June Taylor, all wonderful stuff...thank you all!
Jools' bean squid!
And witche's chick!
