Dog Bereavement (The Real Truth)
It’s been almost three months since I lost Alfie and the first time I’ve been able to talk about losing him. I don’t think there is any coincidence that I started this blog soon after Alfie died, it was his gift me. Whilst I was walking around looking for feathers and robins as a sign that he was ok, the answer was right under my nose.
Alfie was a nine-year-old King Charles Cavalier crossed with a Shihtzu and a really gentle, loyal boy. He developed a cough, no other symptoms, and the vet wasn’t concerned at all. We carried on giving him the prescribed linctus but the cough wouldn’t go. The vet suggested a dental, maybe an infection was irritating his throat, we weren’t too worried.
Alfie went off for his dental on 5th April a happy, alert and trusting boy.
He never came home.
The vet rang to say that he had advanced lung cancer and needed to be euthanised that day. I never saw my boy again. My husband held him in his favorite blanket and he quietly passed away.
I was distraught, shocked and inconsolable. This was how I was feeling when I wrote Alfie’s poem. I refer to how brilliant he was with the foster dogs, how he sneezed when you kissed him, how he would ruffle all the cushions. I refer to Holly his soulmate who he shared every minute of his life with and how he helped me with my insomnia. This is the unedited version of the poem, a less personal version is in my book but I wanted to share the original.