This is the post I never wanted to write, but write it I must, because I love my beautiful girl so much I must immortalise her forever.
Wiglet, our beautiful Welsh Terrier, died at 11.05am this morning, she was eight years old. The cancer over the last few weeks was ravaging her, she would not eat, struggled to eat her beloved chews until she gave up, and was struggling with other life functions. I promised her that if she let me know it was time I would let her go. This past week she sat mainly in our bedroom or on the doorstep listening to the wind in the trees, she did not sit with us, as if trying to get us used to life without her. Yesterday her legs gave way, albeit for a brief moment, but she was disorientated for a while.
I kept my promise.
Wiglet was one of main components of our huge adventure. I use that word because we re-homed her in the October after we moved to France. She and Harley have been one of the main things in our lives, our furry children. I sometimes think we were destined to go to France and save her.
Wiglet was two years old and we were her fifth home. From her experiences she guarded food, and was terrified of loud bangs and the noise of people cutting their nails. To the point of trembling if she could hear it and running to you for comfort. She had such an air of vulnerability about her. But she was a typical Welshie, plus some! She had tenacity in spades, from surviving her initial years, to her hunting of anything that she got the scent of. Including our chickens! She would fight her corner, because her early years had taught her to fight for survival. It was this mixture of vulnerability, tenacity and her pure loving nature that made everyone fall in love with her. Not least her Dad Dad, who she loved more than anything in the world. I think she found in him a kindred spirit with his gentleness and how much he loves her (present tense because love never dies.) He is today a broken man. He held her, he looked into her eyes, and he stood by her today.
During her illness the steroids made her afraid of things, it was Dad Dad she would go to for hugs and comfort, when the fire was crackling, or there were loud bangs on the TV.
The vets came to our home, even though they don’t normally. They said it was the least they could do after we had cared for her and loved her this past year. It was lovely of them to say, but what else would we do? She was our baby.
Wiglet chose where to die, it is a windy warm day here in Ireland, and she chose the garden in our courtyard. We sang to her, ’I love you, yes I do, I love you’, and told her how much we loved her more than words can say. Something mummy has said to them both so many times during every day over the years.
During her illness she has often sat on the back of the sofa and looked longingly out to the Sperrin Mountains that are on the horizon, as if she knew that one day she would be running free there. Today I told her to run like the wind.
It was peaceful, and gentle, Harley was with her. But the most heartbreaking thing was when the vets left, and Harley tried to wake her up, he took the blanket away from her and kept tapping her, she looked as if she was asleep in the grass. It was the most poignant and heartbreaking thing I have ever seen, it will be with me forever.
We have taken her to the vets now, our beautiful girl will be cremated and we will have small pieces of jewellery made so that we can wear her near our hearts forever. She has taken a piece of our hearts with her, until we meet again.
I love you baby, always have, always will. My heart is broken.