Forever Lance
On the 23rd of April, a rainy Wednesday evening, I put my border collie down. Lance was 13 years old, handsome, steadfast and loyal, and gave our entire family 13 years of joy. In his youth he could catch tennis balls in mid-air. He patiently let my baby cousin ride him like a pony. He loved curry puffs and bread. He accompanied my father to Myanmar for 2 years, surviving the cruel month-long quarantines. He asked for nothing more than his daily walk. He never angered, always gave way to Gawain, his bullying son. We called him "Bear".
He only got sick once, in 2006. The rest of his life he gave us no trouble, was perfectly healthy, and a part of me which accepted his mortality believed that he would pass away peacefully, in his sleep. I never expected him to one day not be able to get up. At night he howled and whined in pain, struggling to rise. It was too sudden, too distressing, but after two trips to the vet, we finally realised that it was his time.
We used a towel as a stretcher, and carried him to the death we had selected, a kindly grandfather archetype. When we had said our goodbyes and the green fluid pumped into his vein, I was horrified that he did not go peacefully, that he still fought for every breath. Finally he drew one last sharp intake of air, and was still. His eyes remained open. The shock of that sent me, my father and my mother into tears. He was gone, and it was anguish till the end.
We asked the vet where he would be cremated. The Pet Hotel, we were told. We were happy, because the owner was my dad's friend, and it was he who sold us the dog 13 years ago. He would return to where he came. The next day, my father called his friend the owner. The man was surprised, for the vet had not sent him any dogs for cremation in a long time. Apparently, the old man burns and disposes them in his own backyard, returning their distraught owners the ashes of newspapers.
My father's friend quickly collected Lance's body and cremated him for free. We got back our refund from the vet. I am sick of humanity. Overcome with anger and grief, for an animal that has been nothing more than true to himself and to us. I am waiting for my sisters to get back, so that as a family we can scatter his real ashes into the sea. It is a human act - nothing more than symbolic closure, but I'm absolutely sure that it would be what he wanted. He deserved no less.
He only got sick once, in 2006. The rest of his life he gave us no trouble, was perfectly healthy, and a part of me which accepted his mortality believed that he would pass away peacefully, in his sleep. I never expected him to one day not be able to get up. At night he howled and whined in pain, struggling to rise. It was too sudden, too distressing, but after two trips to the vet, we finally realised that it was his time.
We used a towel as a stretcher, and carried him to the death we had selected, a kindly grandfather archetype. When we had said our goodbyes and the green fluid pumped into his vein, I was horrified that he did not go peacefully, that he still fought for every breath. Finally he drew one last sharp intake of air, and was still. His eyes remained open. The shock of that sent me, my father and my mother into tears. He was gone, and it was anguish till the end.
We asked the vet where he would be cremated. The Pet Hotel, we were told. We were happy, because the owner was my dad's friend, and it was he who sold us the dog 13 years ago. He would return to where he came. The next day, my father called his friend the owner. The man was surprised, for the vet had not sent him any dogs for cremation in a long time. Apparently, the old man burns and disposes them in his own backyard, returning their distraught owners the ashes of newspapers.
My father's friend quickly collected Lance's body and cremated him for free. We got back our refund from the vet. I am sick of humanity. Overcome with anger and grief, for an animal that has been nothing more than true to himself and to us. I am waiting for my sisters to get back, so that as a family we can scatter his real ashes into the sea. It is a human act - nothing more than symbolic closure, but I'm absolutely sure that it would be what he wanted. He deserved no less.