The Last Walk

Sitting with sadness.

Image | Dotty - Gotcha Day

I’ll be honest, it’s been a shit week. I can do super-resilience, but not toxic positivity so I’m afraid this week it’s a reality check, without obvious connection to leadership, coaching, or helpful models. Instead a bit of poetry because that was all I could muster. It’s modern poetry so it doesn’t rhyme and is basically just prose chopped into small pieces like a chef’s salad. Anyway.

On Wednesday of this week we had to have our beautiful dog Dotty put down, aged just eight. We were fortunate to be able to say goodbye, and able to stay with her until the very end. But it’s still epically shit, and now we have to sit with the sadness. I wrote this for lovely Dotty.

Last Walk

The winter sun shone bright

For your last walk.

Cold and glistening across the marshes

As you fetched your ball from the water,

Smelled the smells,

Tried your best to gad about,

For the last time.

I signed the forms

And daddy held you in our arms

As the pentobarbital seeped in,

The brightest pink

So as not to be mistaken in the drug cupboard

Bringing rest and peace.

Stopping your heart,

The stethoscope confirmed,

as the vet and the nurse left.

We leant over you, held you,

Sobbed into your soft fur.

Still a bit unsure that you had really gone.

The hands of the clock

moved silently on the wall

Ten to four.

Somewhen, we left you on the table

Still and silent.

So still and silent.

I looked back

Hoping that you might raise your head

To look at me one last time

With your beautiful sad spaniel eyes

But you did not.

The drugs did their work,

And you lay still, eyes glazed.

Standing the next morning

Eating my toast at the worktop

I glanced down to my side

Where you would be. Should be.

Looking up at me,

hoping for the honeyed crumbs.

But not today.

Now just an empty dog-shaped space

On the naff beige flooring that I hate.

Always at my feet.

I miss falling over you in the kitchen.

Image | Dotty - Sofa Snuggles, Final Morning

Image | Last Walk, Avalon Marshes, Somerset.

Fear not I will return next week with hilarity, inspiration, wisdom or something. I just couldn’t do it this week, so all I had was vulnerability. Thank you for bearing with me. Big love. X