Preparing to say goodbye

Mrs R had tears in her eyes today as she picked up Molly’s medication, probably for the last time. Molly is old now, and aside from a long-term illness she’s struggling to cope with bad arthritis and other age-related changes. She’s blind, deaf and sometimes gets confused. The family has agreed that her quality of life is decreasing and it will soon be time to say goodbye.

We love Molly at the clinic. We’ve been looking after her for years and she’s the perfect patient – friendly, well-behaved and tolerant. She’s had literally hundreds of blood tests, yet never resists the clippers or needle. She’s spent whole days in our treatment room, wagging her tail at everyone who walks past and snoozing in between tests. When we’re done she hops back in her cage without complaint, and she loves to lean in close and enjoy a pat while the vet does whatever they need to. Even without her sight and hearing, she still trusts us. I can’t really imagine Molly not being around, and I know when she makes her last visit to the clinic that we’ll be crying along with her family.

Having said that, everything I love about Molly is just one part of her life. She has been a member of the R family for over a decade, since their kids were small, and has given them all constant love and loyalty. They have fed her, walked her, and picked up after her thousands of times. They’ve swept bags and bags full of her cream coloured fur from their floors and furniture. They’ve got to know all her funny habits and idiosyncracies, and they’ve loved her all the more as she has slowed down and stopped being able to hear them call. As Mrs R said today, Molly is not just part of the furniture or a really great pet; she is “so much a part of us”. There will be great grief at saying goodbye, and life will be forever changed.

Rudyard Kipling, in his heart-wrenching poem ‘The Power of the Dog’, cautions against giving our hearts to our pets, because inevitably we suffer the awful pain of losing them. It’s clearly a poem born of agonising experience, and the advice is sound enough, if avoiding pain is your goal. But when I think of all the Mollys I know, and the people who love them, I can only conclude that it’s worth it. Our pets give us years of unconditional love, companionship and joy. Who would be without that?