During the war here many people couldn't manage to feed their dogs so had to set them free to fend for themselves. This combined with a patchy government strategy for dealing with dogs means that there are a lot of strays around here. Really a lot.
For the past couple of months we've been sort of looking after one of them. Or, more accurately, she sort of attached herself to us, and we couldn't resist her. It's difficult to say what sort of dog she was, bit of German Shepherd certainly, but finer featured and not as big. Either way, she was a real gem of a dog. Calm, even tempered and ever so sweet she played hard with Jess and was calm with the boys. We wormed, ticked and flea-ed her, fed her some proper food and she began to shine. If we went to the shops she would come too, just touching our hands with her nose to let us know that she was there, then she'd wait patiently outside the shop for us to come out before trotting back proudly and beautifully to heel.
She won our confidence over time and I began to trust her. She was allowed to come inside the house in the evenings, but still slept outside. A couple of times we asked if she wanted to get in the car to come for a walk with us, but she didn't fancy that idea much, preferring to do her own thing during the day.
She could get in and out of the garden at will and settled into a routine of heading off to do whatever it is that dogs do in the morning and coming back in the afternoon. Occasionally I'd come across her on the other side of town (having crossed at least 2 major roads to get there). She'd come over to say hello, but again wouldn't want a lift in the car so we'd go our separate ways and she'd come back later that day in time for supper. We tried to block the escape route up, but she would just take it down again, not really wanting to be totally domesticated just yet. In many ways she was living the doggy dream, a house when she wanted it, but also the freedom to do whatever she wanted when she wanted it.
We asked around a bit and the slightly mad, dog obsessed bloke over the road (he of the tendency to put raw bones down the back of his trousers) knew some of her history. He remembered her litter, estimating that she was about 15 months old and had spent her life on the streets. No one owned her or was responsible for her, but he had christened her Belle, so Belle she remained.
We began to talk seriously about whether we were going to adopt her or not. Taking her back to Britain would be no mean feat, Jess is fully PETS passported up, but to get a stray dog onto the scheme would cost a fair bit of money and take a lot of time. We'd have to do things like Fed-Ex blood samples to the UK, that type of thing. But Dave went out one evening with both dogs, neither on the lead, and one stayed to heel the entire way whilst the other expensive pedigree dog that has had years of training had to be hauled out of the neighbours bins at least twice. We weren't sure about having 2 largish dogs in the house, but she was winning us over.
We haven't seen her for over a week now. This is very unusual, she was always one to be back in time for supper. The weather is cold and snowing, she would be looking for some warmth if she could. Maybe she'll turn up one evening looking for a treat, but I doubt it. She may have been hit by a car, the hunters that are occasionally employed to curtail the stray population may have got her. Possibly she found another family to take her in, maybe she just decided to hang out in a pack rather than with some humans. We don't know what has happened to her, probably never will.
I do miss her. Belle. I hope that you'll be back soon, tonight maybe? I desperately hope so, but deep down I doubt it; I think if you could have come back, you'd have been back by now. I hope you are warm and safe somewhere. But most of all I hope you enjoyed your time with us, I hope we made a difference to you. We will never forget you.
Showing posts with label vets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vets. Show all posts
Monday, 14 December 2009
Wednesday, 7 October 2009
A countryside afternoon
An afternoon out of town for the Brit family. Jess needed her annual jabs so we headed on out to the vet that we like to use, who is about 15 minutes drive out of town.
I like this vet. He is no nonsense and funny. The clinic is a wooden building, with a terraced area equipped with table, chairs and space for that all important coffee. Weather permitting consultations are conducted outside, over said coffee, or occasionally a small shot of some homemade plum brandy (sljivavica). Jess, used to the cooing of our soft English vet, finds the Bosnian one a bit rough and ready. He doesn't waste any time, uses muzzles and additional muscle if needed and gets on with it. A consultation never takes more than 5 minutes, with an extra 15 tagged on for coffee.
Jabs received, Pet Passport completed with appropriate stickers and stamps (we do have to get Jess back to England at some point so it is extremely important that everything is well documented) and coffee drunk, we were done.
Everyone was busy out in the countryside. There is a limited amount of time to get ready for winter, so the fields were a flurry of people finishing harvesting their produce, cutting up wood, finishing all the jobs that need to be done whilst the weather is holding. We wandered along to visit a friend, who was in the thick of the autumnal jobs.
The boys were thrilled. Axes for chopping wood! Small puppies to pick up and play with! Plants to be dug up! Pigs to be fed! Chickens to be chased! Apples to be harvested! We are talking true small boy heaven here. They got to work, they got dirty and they had a terrific time.
I had noticed that since we got back from holiday last week, there just haven't been as many people around as there were during the summer. But as most Bosnians who live outside of towns live on small holdings and many of the townie apartment dwellers also have country houses, I've realised that they are busy preparing for winter. The men are chopping wood to heat the houses through winter and making sure all those outside jobs have been completed, the women are bottling, pickling and preserving the mountains of fruit and vegetables that have been grown.
Perhaps most importantly though, everyone has been making sljivavica and handing it out to all and sundry. Hence the stacks of bottles at the vet, who boasts that people always give him their best bottles. We left the vet with a bottle of our own. Not being such a fan of the drink we'll use it for getting the ticks off the dog. Shhh, don't tell anyone. We might live in Bosnia, we might have Bosnian residency visas in our passports, but we'll never be true Bosnians.
I like this vet. He is no nonsense and funny. The clinic is a wooden building, with a terraced area equipped with table, chairs and space for that all important coffee. Weather permitting consultations are conducted outside, over said coffee, or occasionally a small shot of some homemade plum brandy (sljivavica). Jess, used to the cooing of our soft English vet, finds the Bosnian one a bit rough and ready. He doesn't waste any time, uses muzzles and additional muscle if needed and gets on with it. A consultation never takes more than 5 minutes, with an extra 15 tagged on for coffee.
Jabs received, Pet Passport completed with appropriate stickers and stamps (we do have to get Jess back to England at some point so it is extremely important that everything is well documented) and coffee drunk, we were done.
Everyone was busy out in the countryside. There is a limited amount of time to get ready for winter, so the fields were a flurry of people finishing harvesting their produce, cutting up wood, finishing all the jobs that need to be done whilst the weather is holding. We wandered along to visit a friend, who was in the thick of the autumnal jobs.
The boys were thrilled. Axes for chopping wood! Small puppies to pick up and play with! Plants to be dug up! Pigs to be fed! Chickens to be chased! Apples to be harvested! We are talking true small boy heaven here. They got to work, they got dirty and they had a terrific time.
I had noticed that since we got back from holiday last week, there just haven't been as many people around as there were during the summer. But as most Bosnians who live outside of towns live on small holdings and many of the townie apartment dwellers also have country houses, I've realised that they are busy preparing for winter. The men are chopping wood to heat the houses through winter and making sure all those outside jobs have been completed, the women are bottling, pickling and preserving the mountains of fruit and vegetables that have been grown.
Perhaps most importantly though, everyone has been making sljivavica and handing it out to all and sundry. Hence the stacks of bottles at the vet, who boasts that people always give him their best bottles. We left the vet with a bottle of our own. Not being such a fan of the drink we'll use it for getting the ticks off the dog. Shhh, don't tell anyone. We might live in Bosnia, we might have Bosnian residency visas in our passports, but we'll never be true Bosnians.
Monday, 16 March 2009
A Fat Dog
Two trips to the vets later and it looks as if we have managed to stop the Lyme Disease in its tracks. We caught it early and Jessie is now bouncing around, has yellow pee and all is on the mend.
However, the vet did stick Jess on the scales and we have discovered that she now weighs 6kg more than she did in August when we arrived. A whole 6kg (that is approaching 14 lbs for the less metric minded amongst you). This is a whole lot of weight on a dog.
We knew that she was getting fatter, and were not surprised. In the UK she would usually get 2 hours of walking every day. Here she gets just one; the walks are not as energetic and she seldom meets a dog who wants to play which is the best from of doggie exercise out there. We had been restricting her food accordingly, giving her very few scraps or little extra doggie treats.
To our great surprise she carried on getting fatter. We really restricted her food, the recommended amount for a dog was 400g a day, Jessie has been getting 260g. But still the weight was piling on.
The trip to the vet clinched it for us so we went out and truly investigated what she was up to when she was sniffing around in the garden. And the results surprised us.
Jessie has developed her own network of friends. Many of them buy food for her and toss it into the garden for her 'second breakfast', 'post lunch snack', 'post post lunch snack' etc. One woman was buying her a LOAF of bread every day - I couldn't help feeling that really her 1km per day could be a lot better spent than feeding our overfed mutt, but each to their own. Our neighbours have been throwing scraps out of their window for her, which includes a small mountain of potatoes, extra meat and the odd vegetable. Jess isn't fussy, she hoovered up the lot.
I talked to everyone I could. I explained that the vet had told us off because she was fat, fat retrievers are much more likely to get arthritis and could they please, please stop feeding our dog. She would love them just as much as she did before, honest. She might even stop barking at the neighbours window to get them to give her food.
On the whole most people agreed. One neighbour though looked pained. And asked if he could just carry on feeding her one thing. And he held up an enormous jar of boiled sweets bought just for her.
No wonder she is on the podgy side. The diet is on.
However, the vet did stick Jess on the scales and we have discovered that she now weighs 6kg more than she did in August when we arrived. A whole 6kg (that is approaching 14 lbs for the less metric minded amongst you). This is a whole lot of weight on a dog.
We knew that she was getting fatter, and were not surprised. In the UK she would usually get 2 hours of walking every day. Here she gets just one; the walks are not as energetic and she seldom meets a dog who wants to play which is the best from of doggie exercise out there. We had been restricting her food accordingly, giving her very few scraps or little extra doggie treats.
To our great surprise she carried on getting fatter. We really restricted her food, the recommended amount for a dog was 400g a day, Jessie has been getting 260g. But still the weight was piling on.
The trip to the vet clinched it for us so we went out and truly investigated what she was up to when she was sniffing around in the garden. And the results surprised us.
Jessie has developed her own network of friends. Many of them buy food for her and toss it into the garden for her 'second breakfast', 'post lunch snack', 'post post lunch snack' etc. One woman was buying her a LOAF of bread every day - I couldn't help feeling that really her 1km per day could be a lot better spent than feeding our overfed mutt, but each to their own. Our neighbours have been throwing scraps out of their window for her, which includes a small mountain of potatoes, extra meat and the odd vegetable. Jess isn't fussy, she hoovered up the lot.
I talked to everyone I could. I explained that the vet had told us off because she was fat, fat retrievers are much more likely to get arthritis and could they please, please stop feeding our dog. She would love them just as much as she did before, honest. She might even stop barking at the neighbours window to get them to give her food.
On the whole most people agreed. One neighbour though looked pained. And asked if he could just carry on feeding her one thing. And he held up an enormous jar of boiled sweets bought just for her.
No wonder she is on the podgy side. The diet is on.
Friday, 5 December 2008
money money money
As Bosnia is a cash based economy, and you must pay all bills, rent and pretty much everything by cash, the beginning of each month is usually spent taking large amounts of money out of the ATMs. It does, however, focus the mind on what we are spending our money on and allows us an easy comparison for costs in the UK and costs in Bosnia.
Life in Bosnia is cheap, but not as cheap as you might think. Unsurprisingly rent is much cheaper than in the UK. Our 3 bed terraced house in the UK is let for £1250 a month. Here we have a house with sitting room, playroom, kitchen, 2 bathrooms, 2 bedrooms and garden all for 900KM a month (about £400). This is not particularly cheap for Bosnia, some friends think that we could have had a better deal, but it isn't ridiculous silly internationals rates either. Telephone bills are much reduced now we have Skype which allows us to call the UK for 1p a minute. Utilities are about the same as in the UK, but you can't pay over the Internet so we wait for all the bills to come in before making a trip to the bank to pay the lot in cash all at once, crying as we count out each individual note. Despite stats citing the Bosnian average wage to be something in the region of 700KM (£325)per month, I couldn't find a reliable cleaner for less than 200KM (£80) a month for 6 hours a week, but she does do all our ironing, a novel experience for most of our clothes.
Day to day living is also not as cheap as you might think. Anything produced locally is good value, but anything that is imported costs about the same as it does in the UK, the high import duties taking their toll. Fresh food is definitely cheaper; with local shops on every corner selling the best and freshest produce, we tend to buy what we need when we need it, which also means much less waste.
The biggest difference is nursery fees. I have just paid the fees for the boys this morning, the monthly cost for one for up to 5 hours every day is 85KM (£40). At my old nursery that would have paid for one day. Admittedly their old nursery had a staff to child ratio of 2:8 as opposed to 2:20 which may have added to their costs.
Then there are the costs that we just didn't have in the UK. We now have a monthly budget for Jessie's vets bills which were covered by pet insurance before. We also need to have a comprehensive health cover plan which wasn't necessary in the UK (God bless the NHS). Storage costs for the stuff we left behind are astronomical. No, overall, I think that if cutting living costs was a primary motivator for our move we would have been disappointed.
Life in Bosnia is cheap, but not as cheap as you might think. Unsurprisingly rent is much cheaper than in the UK. Our 3 bed terraced house in the UK is let for £1250 a month. Here we have a house with sitting room, playroom, kitchen, 2 bathrooms, 2 bedrooms and garden all for 900KM a month (about £400). This is not particularly cheap for Bosnia, some friends think that we could have had a better deal, but it isn't ridiculous silly internationals rates either. Telephone bills are much reduced now we have Skype which allows us to call the UK for 1p a minute. Utilities are about the same as in the UK, but you can't pay over the Internet so we wait for all the bills to come in before making a trip to the bank to pay the lot in cash all at once, crying as we count out each individual note. Despite stats citing the Bosnian average wage to be something in the region of 700KM (£325)per month, I couldn't find a reliable cleaner for less than 200KM (£80) a month for 6 hours a week, but she does do all our ironing, a novel experience for most of our clothes.
Day to day living is also not as cheap as you might think. Anything produced locally is good value, but anything that is imported costs about the same as it does in the UK, the high import duties taking their toll. Fresh food is definitely cheaper; with local shops on every corner selling the best and freshest produce, we tend to buy what we need when we need it, which also means much less waste.
The biggest difference is nursery fees. I have just paid the fees for the boys this morning, the monthly cost for one for up to 5 hours every day is 85KM (£40). At my old nursery that would have paid for one day. Admittedly their old nursery had a staff to child ratio of 2:8 as opposed to 2:20 which may have added to their costs.
Then there are the costs that we just didn't have in the UK. We now have a monthly budget for Jessie's vets bills which were covered by pet insurance before. We also need to have a comprehensive health cover plan which wasn't necessary in the UK (God bless the NHS). Storage costs for the stuff we left behind are astronomical. No, overall, I think that if cutting living costs was a primary motivator for our move we would have been disappointed.
Thursday, 30 October 2008
One of those days
Big grump and bah humbug from this particular Brit. Just had one of those days where nothing goes right (well almost nothing). The role of mother was reduced to that of a boxing referee. The house is both a pigsty and a perennial black hole which sucks in useful things and puts them somewhere were no sane person would ever think to look. Actually that might not be the house's fault, there may be some toddler interference somewhere. Lots of people were out picnicking in the unseasonal sunshine, which makes walking a food obsessed dog stressful. Said food obsessed dog then careered down a hill and strained a paw leading to a trip to the vet. Nothing wrong with the paw said the vet (yay!) but she needs some nails clipped as they are bothering her (not so good). Nails were clipped a little too close for comfort leading to a small blood bath in the back of the car. Now call me old fashioned but surely a trip to the vet shouldn't end up with me wiping blood off the floors and bandaging up the hound? Then, just as we were settling down for dinner an enormous explosion rocked the house. Turns out that someone had let off a grenade at a bakery down the road - apparently the police have arrested the people involved, all to do with an argument that got out of hand. Actually, this last one didn't bother me that much, having lived in Brixton and witnessed the aftermath of a shooting just outside my front door this one was sufficiently far away to be of interest rather than a worry and the telling of the story makes it sound worse that it is.
Yes, it was one of the days where everything was irritating me. We don't have enough workspace in our kitchen to make cooking an enjoyable activity. The washing doesn't dry fast enough so there are clothes hanging up (and falling down) everywhere. The Estate Agents who are renting our house in the UK are being incompetent. My work is on a pause whilst I try and organise the next assault. We need to get cash for all the bills that are due and no one takes cards or accepts payment over the Internet. A big bah humbug and mega grump.
There was however a ray of light in the quagmire of grumpy mummydom. For the first time ever, Luke did a wee in his potty. Those of you who have not been through the hell that is potty training may not appreciate the excitement of this fact. It makes up for all of the above!
Yes, it was one of the days where everything was irritating me. We don't have enough workspace in our kitchen to make cooking an enjoyable activity. The washing doesn't dry fast enough so there are clothes hanging up (and falling down) everywhere. The Estate Agents who are renting our house in the UK are being incompetent. My work is on a pause whilst I try and organise the next assault. We need to get cash for all the bills that are due and no one takes cards or accepts payment over the Internet. A big bah humbug and mega grump.
There was however a ray of light in the quagmire of grumpy mummydom. For the first time ever, Luke did a wee in his potty. Those of you who have not been through the hell that is potty training may not appreciate the excitement of this fact. It makes up for all of the above!
Monday, 13 October 2008
we're gonna get them critters...
Jessie didn't have to wait long before her next visit to the dreaded vets. Charging up and down the hills of Ilincica she managed to tread on a thorn and rendered herself extremely lame. She also managed to pick up a tick, without doubt one of the worlds most revolting creatures.
At the vets she managed a bit of a wag of the tail before she was muzzled, hoisted on the table and held down. Ever the gentle dog she barely moved throughout the whole ordeal even though the thorn had gone deep into her paw and there was a lot of blood. The removal of the tick was less successful. It turns out that we are in the middle of tick season and Jess's new blood is particularly attractive to these parasites. Getting rid of them is tricky, there is a certain knack to making sure that the whole of the tick is removed which we have yet to acquire.
Back at home Dave and I did our research on the internet and scared ourselves silly with tales of horrible diseases for both dogs and children, stories of house tick infestation and generally felt a bit icky for a while. But we took on board that ticks are a serious threat to health of dogs and children and need to be dealt with immediately.
Back to the vet we went. This time there was an enthusastic greeting of the vet from Jess, who is obviously a girl who likes to be treated mean. He got out his tick removing implement and despatched the critters with ease. Conscious that we don't have pet insurance in Bosnia (an imperative in the UK given the size of vets bills there) we opened our wallet to pay but he declined. Instead he retreated into his office and appeared with a litre of homemade slivovica (that's plum brandy for the uninitiated amongst you), a tick removing thing and instructions on how to use them to get ticks out. We've tried it on the subsequent 3 ticks that we found with some success. Not a fan of slivovica myself - I'll never make a true Bosnian - I'm just excited we have finally found a use for the bottles we have stacked under the stairs.
At the vets she managed a bit of a wag of the tail before she was muzzled, hoisted on the table and held down. Ever the gentle dog she barely moved throughout the whole ordeal even though the thorn had gone deep into her paw and there was a lot of blood. The removal of the tick was less successful. It turns out that we are in the middle of tick season and Jess's new blood is particularly attractive to these parasites. Getting rid of them is tricky, there is a certain knack to making sure that the whole of the tick is removed which we have yet to acquire.
Back at home Dave and I did our research on the internet and scared ourselves silly with tales of horrible diseases for both dogs and children, stories of house tick infestation and generally felt a bit icky for a while. But we took on board that ticks are a serious threat to health of dogs and children and need to be dealt with immediately.
Back to the vet we went. This time there was an enthusastic greeting of the vet from Jess, who is obviously a girl who likes to be treated mean. He got out his tick removing implement and despatched the critters with ease. Conscious that we don't have pet insurance in Bosnia (an imperative in the UK given the size of vets bills there) we opened our wallet to pay but he declined. Instead he retreated into his office and appeared with a litre of homemade slivovica (that's plum brandy for the uninitiated amongst you), a tick removing thing and instructions on how to use them to get ticks out. We've tried it on the subsequent 3 ticks that we found with some success. Not a fan of slivovica myself - I'll never make a true Bosnian - I'm just excited we have finally found a use for the bottles we have stacked under the stairs.
Monday, 22 September 2008
is there a professional dog groomer in Tuzla?
Jessie has had her first trip to the vet. Entirely my fault as well. Finally pushed to do some grooming I had to resort to using scissors to get rid of the matted hair around her ears. After a few glasses of wine I probably wasn't as careful as I should have been and caught her skin under her ear. An enormous (thankfully shallow) cut opened up that looked really nasty.
Off to the vet we go. Jess usually loves the vet. She can't wait to get through the doors and then generally precedes to behave really badly, harassing the vet, the technician, the receptionist and anyone else in the waiting room for the treats that she knows are somewhere. She wags her tail, actually she wags her whole body, at the vet and goes into ecstacies of excitement as the vet approaches.
She soon discovered that the Bosnian vet was not quite the same. They took one look at her, got three men, held her down, muzzled her and in rapid succession applied iodine and all the other type of things needed to make her better. Jess was horrified... 'but but but' I could see her muttering 'I'm an English dog! I don't do three men and a muzzle! I do gentle soothing words! I don't do PAIN at the vets!'
The cut is now fully healed. It only cost us a small sum unlike the fortune we would have to be claiming on our pet insurance if we were still in the UK. It was quick, effective and pretty brutal. Jess has to have her booster jabs next month, we shall see if she still bounds into the vets office which such enthusiasm then.
Off to the vet we go. Jess usually loves the vet. She can't wait to get through the doors and then generally precedes to behave really badly, harassing the vet, the technician, the receptionist and anyone else in the waiting room for the treats that she knows are somewhere. She wags her tail, actually she wags her whole body, at the vet and goes into ecstacies of excitement as the vet approaches.
She soon discovered that the Bosnian vet was not quite the same. They took one look at her, got three men, held her down, muzzled her and in rapid succession applied iodine and all the other type of things needed to make her better. Jess was horrified... 'but but but' I could see her muttering 'I'm an English dog! I don't do three men and a muzzle! I do gentle soothing words! I don't do PAIN at the vets!'
The cut is now fully healed. It only cost us a small sum unlike the fortune we would have to be claiming on our pet insurance if we were still in the UK. It was quick, effective and pretty brutal. Jess has to have her booster jabs next month, we shall see if she still bounds into the vets office which such enthusiasm then.
Monday, 8 September 2008
little pup
Dogs in Bosnia have a different life to one in the UK. There are an enormous number of strays which people often leave food and water out for. These strays have a difficult life and most are young dogs or puppies. Many of them are absolutely lovely dogs. D has a theory that only the nice ones survive as people wouldn't tolerate an aggressive stray for long. The dogs roam all over the place, often on the roads and are often hit by cars.
We were in a car on Sunday which accidentally hit a young stray puppy. I'd seen the puppy earlier, it had bounced over to come and see how we were doing. Probably some form of Alsatian cross she was around 8 weeks and so friendly. I'd entertained a very brief flirtation with the idea of taking her back home and allowing her to become our 'outside' dog, but it was only very brief - with young children who are used to abusing a golden retriever, I would have to be very sure of the temperament of a dog before taking one on.
We weren't driving and those who were didn't stop to see if the dog was ok. As we drove off all I could hear were the howls of pain and through the back window I could see that she had obviously broken a leg.
This image haunted me all night, and we drove back today to see how she was doing. She had crawled under a bench and was in pain. I took her home, gave her a drink, fed her and took her to the vets to be put down. Fortunately the vet confirmed that there was very little he could do for her - I was dreading having to make a decision about whether to give her treatment or not. We took her away and buried her in a friend's field in a beautiful spot overlooking a valley.
Adam had quite got into the puppy and I wasn't ready to talk to Adam about death. He kept asking about 'the little dog' and couldn't quite understand why she had been buried or why the vet couldn't make her better. We didn't shy away from saying that she had died, but he could only really comprehend it in terms of going to sleep for ever - never waking up. Even then he is convinced that we can come back next week and she'll be ready to play. How people ever explain it when it is something closer to them than a stray dog I have no idea.
Now, I know that in the greater scheme of things this is not a great tragedy. She would have gone under a car sooner rather than later and putting her down was the kindest thing that we could have done for her. That hasn't stopped me howling ever since.
We were in a car on Sunday which accidentally hit a young stray puppy. I'd seen the puppy earlier, it had bounced over to come and see how we were doing. Probably some form of Alsatian cross she was around 8 weeks and so friendly. I'd entertained a very brief flirtation with the idea of taking her back home and allowing her to become our 'outside' dog, but it was only very brief - with young children who are used to abusing a golden retriever, I would have to be very sure of the temperament of a dog before taking one on.
We weren't driving and those who were didn't stop to see if the dog was ok. As we drove off all I could hear were the howls of pain and through the back window I could see that she had obviously broken a leg.
This image haunted me all night, and we drove back today to see how she was doing. She had crawled under a bench and was in pain. I took her home, gave her a drink, fed her and took her to the vets to be put down. Fortunately the vet confirmed that there was very little he could do for her - I was dreading having to make a decision about whether to give her treatment or not. We took her away and buried her in a friend's field in a beautiful spot overlooking a valley.
Adam had quite got into the puppy and I wasn't ready to talk to Adam about death. He kept asking about 'the little dog' and couldn't quite understand why she had been buried or why the vet couldn't make her better. We didn't shy away from saying that she had died, but he could only really comprehend it in terms of going to sleep for ever - never waking up. Even then he is convinced that we can come back next week and she'll be ready to play. How people ever explain it when it is something closer to them than a stray dog I have no idea.
Now, I know that in the greater scheme of things this is not a great tragedy. She would have gone under a car sooner rather than later and putting her down was the kindest thing that we could have done for her. That hasn't stopped me howling ever since.
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