A white mane, of purest white, the whitest and softest fur …which is by far one of the hardest of dog fur to paint. It’s the kind of mane on a dog that is just the most perfect place in which to bury your head, and then, all of your troubles simply melt away… The longest geeky-looking snout with a big black nose…that if painted at the wrong angle, just makes the portrait look totally strange, and yet, this is my girl! It is so important for me to truly capture her essence in this painting of her. Dark, almost black eyes, with such a deep, wise understanding and then, in contrast, the most striking golden sandy fur. Her body is sleek and long-limbed… everyone comments ‘What a beautiful dog’… a wise dog, a dog that even those apprehensive about dogs find themselves feeling completely at ease with… a dog you know that perhaps… comes only once in a lifetime… this is how to describe my Meg.
MEG 1990-2007
How do you find such a dog? Living alone in my twenties, Gemma comes to visit, but I have not yet committed to having a dog full-time. I am still very much enjoying my freedom, not sure I am ready to take on the responsibility. Then one day…
It’s a very strong memory… the memory of teeth gnawing at the grid separating her from me, trying very hard to escape her run. Mischievous and determined, she is demonstrating more character than her litter brother and sister. I am here, at the Dogs Trust kennels, just to have a look. It doesn’t mean anything really does it? Just to see how it feels… Preferring a pup, just turning up randomly like this, I am unlikely to find a good match. Then, there she is …and there really is nothing more to decide. Only the inconvenience of having to wait for the perimeter fence check so I cannot take her there and then. Worring while I wait, that they will give her to someone else by mistake…
It is in the first few weeks that I realise just how much my parents took on when they let me have a dog, for which I am eternally grateful. Meg spends most nights battering herself against the shut door of the kitchen that keeps her contained at night, determined not to be left on her own and away from me. I am exhausted from a lack of sleep. In the daytime, her protests at being left home for an hour or two, result in destruction everywhere. Climbing up on the table, uprooting all the potted plants in the house. Mud is scattered everywhere! The Lurcher attaches and does not like being separated! Meg is a Lurcher-cross collie, totally attaches and devotes herself to me, from day one. This is our bond and once we get over this initial period of chaos, we become inseparable. With Meg by my side, I feel like I can stride out into the world and accomplish anything !!
With my work studio at home, Meg sits at my feet as I paint my portraits. Out at the shows she accompanies me everywhere. If she could hand out the leaflets she would! In awe of her stunning looks and golden coat, customers would forget my name, but would always remember Meg! Never needing to be tied up or put on a lead at my events, she lingers out the front and welcomes people as they approach my stand. Humorously, whilst I engage with customers, I notice her checking random shopping bags, with snout well down in its contents, customer oblivious, so comical!
‘Love me love my dog’ is a song I remember from the 1970s and that’s me… so when Rob comes along in 1993, Meg has to be in agreement too. Having passed the test, Meg joins us at the church on our big day, the sunniest day in May… with a huge yellow ribbon as an extra ‘bridesmaid’. From this time onwards becoming known affectionately as ‘Meggie-dog’. Baby George and Isaac join the pack, Meg fiercely protecting them from other dogs who may get… a little too close… another sign of her unwavering loyalty.
I can’t imagine life without my Meg by my side, so a vet call during a routine dental appointment, leaves me devastated with the news that Meg has a tumour in her tongue. My golden girl, aged 10 and still full of so much love and life ahead, has potentially only about 6 weeks to live. Why ?? This can’t be happening to me AGAIN, after having to say goodbye to Josie at the same age. I cry out to the skies above! Going into a tail-spin with my heart breaking, I am not ready to lose another dog at only aged 10… so embark on finding out more information. A specialist vet suggests cutting half her tongue away to remove the tumour. This could be the cure, or just make the end of her life even more uncomfortable.
Deciding to go ahead with the operation, I spend an agonising few days, wondering how life will be for Meg with only half of her tongue. The overwhelming joy to hear the sounds of water lapping… she has taught herself how to drink! As weeks turn to months, all the checks come back clear, the cancer has not spread and she goes on to live for a further 6 years! This time my special friend has not been stolen away from me too soon and where I may have let Josie down all those years ago, I have been given this opportunity to save Meg. Taking a chance and trusting my instincts.
How are any of us ready to say goodbye at the end? Meg is going to live forever, isn’t she? How can I live without her? I won’t be able to let her go. With memories of Josie and how I let her down at the end, in denial and unable to be there for her. Choosing to stuff my grief down. So how can I face the inevitable day with my Meg… how will I bear it? No quietly slipping away in the night this time like with Gemma, Meg hangs on and stubbornly keeps going, determined to be by my side until the end of time… Despite my inner screams, the time has come to call the vet for a home visit. I know I must be brave and this has to be done. We have our last weekend, there are lots of tears as I remind her about all the fun we have had together. She can’t stand, has stopped eating and drinking, yet looks straight at me with love in her eyes that is never-ending. In the last few hours, I lay her on my chest, stroking to calm her. She is getting so stressed in her body that will no longer co-operate. At the end, I lay down by her side as she takes her last breath.
Feeling surprisingly calm, Rob helps me prepare a place for her in the garden. I feel triumphant that this time I am taking part in the process and not running away like before with Josie. It’s not until the following morning that I wake and feel the full force of the grief and shock. How can I have put my gorgeous girl in a hole in the ground, and covered her with soil ?!! I have an overwhelming urge to go and claw at the ground to get her out of that deep dark hole. This is the pain of the grief, a sign of the depth of the love. In order to grow, I must feel this pain. Meggie is teaching me how to feel, no more running. I feel like I am shedding a skin… and I surrender.
In the days that follow, as we feel the weight of the loss of my beautiful girl, we are walking one of our favourite places. A place where the boys love to explore and look for tadpoles, Meg would take a cooling dip in the water. Today, the sun is shining brightly, and I look all around in complete amazement. The air is filled with hundreds of feathery floating dandelion seeds. Back-lit in the morning sunshine, they look like little tiny fairies, dancing on the breeze. It’s like a scene from a magical fairyland and I stand in awe… I have never seen anything quite as enchanting as this before …is this my Meg? …now the ‘Spirit-Dog’ putting on a show for us? And it’s a scene I have never witnessed since… not anywhere… I truly believe that it really was her, sending the dancing fairies on that day and making us all smile to lift us from our sadness.
