Old Rory

My Uncle Sean’s dog, Rory, was put to sleep yesterday. He had terrible arthritis, could no longer walk and we think he was in a huge amount of pain. My cousin Aine and my Aunt Jo couldn’t get him out of the house so the vet came to them and administered the injection.

Aine and Jo sat with him until he passed and right at the end (this is the part that kills me) just before he went, he wagged his tail. He wagged his tail like nothing at all was wrong and then he was gone.

My Uncle Sean is now in a nursing home but his memory has not returned. He doesn’t seem to remember that he even has a dog. That is the saddest thing of all – Rory didn’t get to see his beloved master before he died. How cruel life can be at the end.

Thank you to everyone who helped me find carers for Rory. You made such a huge difference. I will never forget your kindness.

And please, those of you who have dogs, please hug and kiss them for me.

See ya, Rory. I know my old buddy, Henry, is up there hanging out with you. And Poncho. And Spring. And Buster. And Maxie 1 and 2. And Angus. And Peewee. And Joey. And maybe even Dolly (even though she stuck her nose up at most boy dogs.)

All the dogs of all my family and friends are there with you. Rolling in the grass. Eating things they shouldn’t. Sniffing each other’s butts.

I won’t ever forget you, old guy.

Love you.