farewell to my sabrina 27 comments
Sabrina on the front lawn last week
This is another of those posts that I hoped never to have to write, but knew I would have to before long. As you will know if you read this post about our trip home, I had been concerned that Sabrina might not make it. As it turned out, she managed okay and even had a chance to do a little of what Don and I used to refer to as her botanizing. She had an uncanny interest in any plant that she regarded as conspicuous. She was also an excellent scout when it came to looking for frogs, snakes, and even butterflies – standing patiently as she gazed back and forth from me to the creature until I came over with my camera. She would then move on, scanning for the next creature along the trail. For many years, she was a great hiker, wanting to lead the way and choose which branch of a trail to take. She would look visibly offended if we did not take her advice.
Of course, those days have been over for some time as old age and arthritis gradually caught up with her. However, there is a story there too. In the last months before Don died, Sabrina became almost inseparable from him. She had always been Don’s dog, in that way that, when you have two dogs, one will often attach itself to one person and one to the other. During the first four years of Sabrina’s life, Maggie, an almost identical looking tricolor Rough Collie from the same breeder, had been her mentor. But Maggie was my dog, so Sabrina decided that she would be Don’s. That special relationship continued until Don’s death in September 2008. In the final weeks of his illness, Sabrina became increasingly vigilant and would not leave his side. In fact, she took to sleeping beneath the raised leg rest of the recliner chair where he spent all his days and nights toward the end. I practically had to drag her out to get her to eat dinner. Whenever Don had to spend a few nights in the hospital, she would remain under the recliner, staring at me for hours as though wondering why I took him away and returned home without him. By the time that Don died, Sabrina had become weak and almost emaciated. She could barely walk and I feared I would lose her too. However, as you will know if you have read this blog since the beginning, Sabrina and I departed for points almost unknown about five weeks later. Yes, she was weak and shaky, but the two of us managed okay, struggling along together on what has become a long, strange journey.
You have seen many of these photos in the past, often when I have written about Don on the occasion of the anniversary of his death. What is conspicuous is that Don and Sabrina were together in so many of the photos in my collection. So many times, I would snap a photo of them around the house or the gardens, or on a hiking trail, and there would be Sabrina sitting or standing close by. They really were an inseparable pair. While looking for photos to use in this post, I came across a couple of nice little movie clips of the two of them together. I hope these will work for you. The first is of Sabrina trying to protect Don from our lawn mower. Even though the mower is not running, Sabrina worried about it and would make a fuss if Don got too near. What is interesting is that she had two barks – a gruff serious bark and a higher pitched puppyish bark. It is the puppyish bark that she is using in this clip.
The second movie clip is just a short one taken at our farm around the time that Don was diagnosed with cancer. I am so glad that I shot a few short video clips – most are about a minute long – while we were walking around the trails on our land. These are nice reminders to me of our “family” back before the wheels came off of our lives.
So, anyhow, enough about the past and now to the present. For the past few days, Sabrina showed signs of weakening. There wasn’t really much to do about it. She is old – about 14 years old – which is really getting up there for a collie. I gave her what assistance I could in getting in and out of the house on the couple of steps, and then last night, she lay out flat and made no effort to rise unless I gave her a boost to a normal lying-down-dog position. It was clear that the end was nigh. This morning, I called the vet clinic and made arrangements to bring Sabrina there to be euthanized. It seemed the only kind thing to do – the last kindness that I couod do for a dog who has shared so many of the good times and the bad, that have taken place over the past few years.
I set her down on a soft comforter in the bed of the van and then drove to town, arriving there about twenty minutes early. I decided to go ahead on over the causeway as far as the tidal generating plant and turn into the fisherman’s lot and stop where there is a stone memorial cairn. Many is the time that, Don, Sabrina and I stood at that spot together to watch the tide flowing back out through the generating plant and into the Annapolis Basin, during our frequent summer trips to Nova Scotia. I opened the side doors of the van so that Sabrina could look out onto the waters and then sat with her for a minute, saying goodbye and telling her that I had done the best I could for her and now it is time for her to run to Don. She’s become pretty deaf in recent years, so I doubt she caught much of what I said, but she turned her wise old eyes to look into mine and I think she understood that all was well.
And so, that is how things went. I stayed with her until the end and it was genltle and an easy death. Of course, I am sad – sort of heartbroken all over again, I suppose. I have become so accustomed to death and loss that this time was perhaos easier than some of the others, but there is something different about this one, and the effect it has had today. I knew that when Sabrina died, it would be as though the final thread that bound the three of us together would finally be broken – and that is how it feels. My life is changed in ways I could never have predicted just a handful of years ago – and Sabrina’s passing is like the closing chapter of this book.
There is an odd little observation that I wished to include in this post. In August 2007, Don and I came here to Nova Scotia for a late summer vacation. Don had not felt well all that summer – tired and with a persistent cough that the doctors assured him was asthma as, after all, he was a never smoker. He seemed to feel so much better here by the ocean where the air is so fresh and clean. On our last afternoon on the Atlantic side, I shot this little movie clip of Don walking away into the sunset, and of Sabrina anxiously looking back at me and then deciding she should go on with Don. It was a beautiful late afternoon with a brisk breeze and a wonderful sky, but in the moment that I shot the clip, I felt a shiver as though something was about to change – as it soon did. Now, as I look back at the clip and this photo, I realize that I was just anticipating that thing we call The Future. It is not to be feared, but also the thing we may not change.
Farewell my beautiful Sabrina. You are free now. Run to Don!
27 Responses to 'farewell to my sabrina'
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Oh Bev, this news breaks my heart. I have tears in my eyes, watching Don and Sabrina walk down the beach together. I am so sorry for your loss. My deepest sympathies to you and Sage.
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Dear Bev, I knew that this day would be arriving for you sooner than later, but my thoughts and prayers are with you to comfort you through these days. Sabrina was a very big part of your life with Don and she left you with many memories and helped you through the days after you went on without Don. I wish that I had gotten the chance to see her in person, but that time never came so I really have enjoyed the pictures and videos that you have shared with all of us of her and Sage. Each animal we have creates a special place in our hearts, and they love us unconditionally. You and Don were the best mom and dad that she could have had, possible. I hope that you have peace that they are together and are looking over you and Sage. Hugs to you my friend………
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Oh, Bev. I knew this day was around the bend, but that doesn’t lessen the deep sadness I feel having just read this. I understand the significance of this loss; the only other precious being in this world who shared your life with Don is now gone. You 2 have such history, and over the past few years especially she has been your constant companion. I love that you have these short clips (and hopefully other longer videos) and am glad you shared them with us. Seeing her with Don is comforting in a way. I remember my own losses when my Sheltie and Fox Terrier had to be euthanized – the emptiness when returning home alone after losing the last one. I hope you and Sage will bring each other comfort in the days and nights to come. My thoughts and love are with you, Bev. I hope you will keep us current with your activities and let us know how you and Sage are doing. Hugsssss~Sky
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It is hard to lose such a good friend. Sorry to hear it. She was a beautiful dog in all ways and had a beautiful life. That’s a big thing.
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To love is hard…probably the most difficult thing a human can do. My tears are flowing for you at this painful time. Skye (and Zack)
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I’m so sorry to hear of Sabrina’s passing, and I understand what you mean about the last ties being severed. But you are right that the two of them are together and pain free again, and I am sure that they will be waiting patiently for you.
Its so hard to do something that you know in your head is so right, but your heart can’t agree with, and you did honour her by not allowing her to suffer further indignity by needing you to carry her or support her. There is life, and then there is quality of life, and you made the right choice and I’m sure did not make it lightly.
Hugs to you.
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Brave, sweet, loyal, beautiful Sabrina. The love you shared with Don and Sabrina shines in this post. Your photos and video clips of Don and Sabrina moved me in a tearful and joyful way. Sending love to you and Sage.
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In tears. What a wonderful post to say farewell to such a wonderful companion. R.I.P., Sabrina.
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Sounds like a good parting Bev, one you were both in agreement it was time. I had a similar experience with Misty. Her arthritis was so bad I had to carry her up and down the steps so she could rest outside in the fresh air each day. Carol wanted to have her put down sooner, but I kept thinking we were managing. Then one morning as I reached down to pick her up, she nipped me on my forearm, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to hurt. I was startled and she gave me an apologetic look for having hurt me, but determined that I wasn’t to carry on as usual.
“Oh Misty, it’s time isn’t it,” I said, as we looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Then I went and got the .22 rifle and set it by the door as she watched. She let me pick her up and lie her down outside. I put the gun to her head and will never forget her understanding compassion looking into my eyes, as I pulled the trigger. She was gone instantly. The kids helped me bury her beside the house, where she could see down the lane.
I only wish I’d done the same for Dinah, our next dog. We had become part of the city, and I let myself be convinced the civilized thing was to take her to the vet clinic. Unlike what you described Bev, Dinah’s final hour was awful in the clinic. She hated the place, and I was left alone with her convulsing for 20 minutes after the anaesthetic injection – a replay of being left alone when a child trying to hold my convulsing mother on her bed while my stepfather frantically called for the ambulance, just before mom died of brain cancer. Fortunately I have more positive memories of friends and family dying than negative ones, most had good exits from this physical world. I’m glad for you both that Sabrina had such a good departure. Our love to you, Jim and Carol
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Thanks, everyone. I am doing okay and feeling good about how everrything went yesterday. In fact, I don’t think it could have worked out betteer. Yesterday was “the right time” – not too soon or too late. Tday, Sage and I will begin to readjust to life with just the two of us. The dynamics of our relationship will change considerably, but it should all ge for the good. Take care all.
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So sorry, Bev….such a nice tribute to Sabrina and her wonderful life with you and Don!
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Bev, I felt this post coming and was dreading reading it. My thoughts are with you and Sage.
Sabrina was a beautiful girl, and she was the most loving and intelligent of companions. In my mind’s eye I can see her running across the bridge to Don, and him welcoming her with open arms. Perhaps she and my Cassie can run together in the green fields on the other side.
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So sorry to hear about Sabrina. I feel like I knew her from reading your posts and seeing the many photos she was in. It was good that she was able to make it home from your long journey over the summer, that her passing was peaceful and that you were able to visit a place she loved and share that moment.
Thank you for sharing your touching story.
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“Run to Don” . . . tears my friend . . . and a tender hug . . . and a wish for comfort as you move through the little and great hauntings that inevitably accompany these impossible losses.
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Dear Bev, I am so very sorry to hear about the death of Sabrina. Having lost a beloved dog a few months ago I have some idea as to what you must be feeling, but as you say, it is you last link with Don, so your loss is much greater than mine. All I can say that might be of comfort is that once the pain has abated a little you have so many wonderful memories to look back on and when memories are all you have then they can be very precious. I will be thinking of you at this very sad time. Take care of yourself and best wishes.
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Bev
I am sorry to hear of the loss of Sabrina. Our pets are true companions a real source of strength, love and connection to the world.All the best.
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Thanks, everyone. Sage and I are managing okay although the house feels very empty and Sage stille looks for Sabrina.
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All is well, sad but well.
Hugs to you still, Bev.
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Aw Bev. I can’t imagine this. I have an almost identical picture to one of yours. My husband Greg, with our dog Bear asleep on his chest, on the couch. We haven’t been out East to our Karsdale house in over a year, as Greg had to have hip surgery. Scared the crap out of me…threw my whole sense of security into turmoil, having him incapacitated. You must have inner strength that is immeasurable.
I hope we can connect some day. We are just selling our log house near Ottawa, waiting to move to our stone wreck of a house near Brockville ON. But the house in Annapolis county is always there in my mind. It vexes and inspires and torments and gives me hope. It’s my escape route. It’s my dangling carrot. I hope you can continue to enjoy working on your Tower house. You have done a remarkable job so far. Sabrina will be missed, as will our Bear’s mom, Annie. Annie was border collie/ brittany spaniel. She was an intelligent handful, and her son more so. But she was Greg’s girl, where Bear is a mama’s boy.
I hope we will be out in Karsdale in September, when the ticks are gone and we have shed our current house. If you are there at that time, and are travelling the Granville road…please stop by and chat. Look for a red house, with a red Toyota truck. And a couple of people with sticks in their hair and dirty nails, lol
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Hi Mel — If I am still here in September, I may just take a drive over to Karsdale to look for your place. We looked at a place over there around 2006. It’s a nice area.
Yes, it’s been very hard. I find having to deal with all these problems alone to be difficult. There’s not a lot I can say except that, contrary to what people like to tell you, it doesn’t get any easier. However, I just keep on keeping on. -
Good and faithful companion. Sage be with you.
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Thanks, Mark.
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That’s a heartbreaking video. My thoughts are with you (however belatedly).
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Thanks, Dave. Yes, it’s really hard for me to watch that video, but it’s also one that I cherish very much.
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I am such an episodic reader of your blog, visiting from time to time, that I missed this sad news. No doubt the loss of Sabrina still touches you deeply. I can only add my words of comfort, inadequate as they are, to those who have already commented.
May life’s path level out for you for a time. Your strength and wisdom has touched me, and many others. For you, I wish a time of solace and respite.
My heartfelt sympathies Bev on the loss of your beloved friend and companion. Never an easy thing to do, but as you say, it’s the last kindness we can give them for their steadfast loyalty and unconditional love. RIP Sweet Sabrina.