DOGS’ LIVES ARE TOO SHORT; THEIR ONLY FAULT, REALLY.

The phrase ‘mental health’ is increasingly used. It’s good we feel more able to talk about it these days, although sometimes, I worry it’s become a little cliched. Winston Churchill observed that the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man. He wasn’t just reflecting on the prolonged effect on our internal organs of bouncing up and down on a saddle! He recognised that a relationship with and reliance on another creature allows us to experience and enjoy life in a way we couldn’t do on our own. And in the process, we tend to our mental health, reaping psychological and emotional benefits. My variation on his observation is that your soul is lifted with a dog by your side!

So, although losing Ellie was expected and, in some ways, a relief, our sadness was profound; in those early days, we would have given much not to have experienced those feelings. I talked in an earlier instalment about people who don’t get a second dog, or maybe even a first one, because of the fear of loss. An American novelist, Jonathan Safran Foer, once said, ‘You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.’

The loss is multi-faceted in the immediate aftermath of a bereavement; we mourn the individual, but we also struggle with the vacuum they have left behind. And just as with the death of a human, there will be signs everywhere of the dog who, until recently, shared your life. As part of a group of people who lost a much-loved animal companion in early 2020, we didn’t realise it was a prelude to a universal loss; normality! When lockdown began a few weeks after we scattered Ellie’s ashes, everyone suddenly found themselves struggling to adjust to life with massive gaps.

We had always maintained a regular routine for Ellie regarding exercise and mealtimes, so each day without her highlighted just how much we missed those rituals. And as one of the few things you were allowed to do in that glorious spring weather was take a walk, the empty space beside us was apparent!

There was never a doubt in our minds that we would get another companion; it was just about timing. So when we received a Facebook message from Ellie’s breeders about a prospective litter in May 2020, we recognised it as fate intervening. We replied that we were very interested and overjoyed to hear we would be allocated a puppy. That litter was delivered on 11/5/20, although not without problems.; the mother needed a caesarian and lost four of the eleven puppies she was carrying. Of the seven survivors, three were girls, and four were boys. We had preferred another girl to follow in the footsteps of Sally and Ellie; it wasn’t a dealbreaker, but in the event, we got our wish.

As with previous litters, the breeders posted many photos and videos showing their progress. All the puppies were colour coded from day one, and we were charmed by ‘Miss Yellow’. One video showed the litter gathered at the door, preparing for their debut in the garden. Like novice divers standing on a high board for the first time, nervous uncertainty and false starts were evident. Finally, Miss Yellow took the initiative and led the others outside. We liked that about her and, when invited to make a choice, asked if we could have her. We met her for the first time when she was around five weeks old. All the puppies were in a large pen in the garden, and their parents, Cybill and Elvis, roamed nearby.

We took turns sitting in the pen and were suddenly reminded just how sharp the puppies’ claws and baby teeth are! I was wearing open-toed sandals, and while I played with one puppy, another decided my big toe was a legitimate target! All litter members were adorable, but we ensured we gave Miss Yellow, or Ruby as she was to become, extra cuddles. Three weeks later, we returned to Norfolk and brought her home.

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