I've not posted much here lately, but this deserved a special mention from me.
Our oldest dog, Gypsy, has passed away age 17. I've had her since she was old enough to walk. She was a work-bred Sealyham/Russell from Welshpool, and true to her (female) Sealyham heritage she was a tiny little thing. At 6 weeks she literally sat in my hand, and fully grown she was barely two hands full, and always skin, muscle and bone - there was nothing to her. Despite that, she was the most loving, loyal and faithful companion I could have wished for. She could find vermin where others had failed, and killed hundreds of rats and other vermin in a day, three days a week, through her prime. I regularly had calls to visit such-and-such a farm because xyz wasn't finding and they wanted to bring in 'the expert'. She took on everything she ever came across with gusto. A real dedicated worker, loving family dog and all round awesome little lion in a lamb's body.
Over the last year, age 15-16, I knew she was starting to come to the end. She turned grey all over, her eyes became glassy and she couldn't hear as well, and she became slow and wobbly to stand in the mornings. She was also sleeping more, but she'd earned that. She was still in otherwise fine fettle, still catching the odd stray city rat and eating like a horse between walks with the kids. Then, a few months ago, she lost a lot of weight and became more withdrawn, and I knew she was starting the process of dying.
The vet confirmed as much, and said just keep on loving her, there's nothing specifically 'wrong', she's just very old now. She was left to her devices, spoiled rotten when she was awake, and despite more than a couple of scares she soldiered on. We actually started calling her The Queen (RIP), because she was ancient, and we just started thinking she'd live forever. Alas, Her Majesty went and now so has our own queen.
A few days ago, she looked 'wrong' and didn't want to eat. She was quiet, content and not in any pain. She did, however, lose a lot of what weight she had left overnight, her mouth became pale, her legs and breath cold, and I knew what was coming... She was now 'actively dying'. We made her comfortable, and said 'She'll be running around again later, same as the last six times she's frayed my last nerve'. Alas, the day after she could no longer stand, refused all food and water, and just wanted to sit on my feet (she literally crawled across the floor to get there, because her little legs had gone). Heartbroken, I knew it was the end for my faithful little pal.
Knowing she was close to her final moments, and not distressed, we decided to let her die at home where she was familiar and knew she was loved. We made her the softest of deep beds, syringed water to her lips to wet her mouth, and told her she was the best girl, thank you - it's OK. The children all had chance to (through a lot of tears) give her kisses and cuddles, and tell her she was loved. They went to bed (begrudgingly) and fell asleep. Unfortunately, old Gyp started to become distressed and agitated. I called the vet and asked to come straight in, wrapped her in a blanket and made a final journey.
I carried her to the table, and the vet popped in a cannula. They remarked that she was clearly well looked after and loved, to have reached such an age, and that they would have pegged her five years younger at most so 'we must have done something right'. A kind reassurance. I cradled her head in my hands (she couldn't hold it up herself now), and told her how loved she was and had been, thanked her for being such a good girl, and said "It's OK girl, you can go 'home' now". She looked into my eyes, wagged her tail, and went heavy in my hands. The vet hadn't even started the injection - she passed away when I told her to. Loyal to the end.
The vet just stared at me, checked her heart, and said they were sorry and of course there'll be no charge. So now we're waiting for her ashes, and staring at a tiny little collar where my little world used to lie. She's been with me for almost half of my life, and I'm devastated. We all are. I'm also, strangely, happy. She was very old, but didn't suffer from it until the last - something I still attribute to lots of work and raw food, and the vet agreed. She's had an amazing life, literally bounced up hill, across dale and down every hole she could find between Wales, Yorkshire and the Lakes; and she got the best of everything. It was time. So, surprisingly (to me) I have barely even cried - though as I type this, I want to again. I'm trying to be happy that I had her, and that she's now at peace - but I can't help also be sad for what I've lost, as much as she didn't have it in her to stay for one last Christmas.
Rest in peace, Gyp. You were a good dog... That'll do, girl. That'll do.
In her prime age ~3 after having a litter of (sought after) pups.
A few days before she passed - she was tired, and it was time.
Our oldest dog, Gypsy, has passed away age 17. I've had her since she was old enough to walk. She was a work-bred Sealyham/Russell from Welshpool, and true to her (female) Sealyham heritage she was a tiny little thing. At 6 weeks she literally sat in my hand, and fully grown she was barely two hands full, and always skin, muscle and bone - there was nothing to her. Despite that, she was the most loving, loyal and faithful companion I could have wished for. She could find vermin where others had failed, and killed hundreds of rats and other vermin in a day, three days a week, through her prime. I regularly had calls to visit such-and-such a farm because xyz wasn't finding and they wanted to bring in 'the expert'. She took on everything she ever came across with gusto. A real dedicated worker, loving family dog and all round awesome little lion in a lamb's body.
Over the last year, age 15-16, I knew she was starting to come to the end. She turned grey all over, her eyes became glassy and she couldn't hear as well, and she became slow and wobbly to stand in the mornings. She was also sleeping more, but she'd earned that. She was still in otherwise fine fettle, still catching the odd stray city rat and eating like a horse between walks with the kids. Then, a few months ago, she lost a lot of weight and became more withdrawn, and I knew she was starting the process of dying.
The vet confirmed as much, and said just keep on loving her, there's nothing specifically 'wrong', she's just very old now. She was left to her devices, spoiled rotten when she was awake, and despite more than a couple of scares she soldiered on. We actually started calling her The Queen (RIP), because she was ancient, and we just started thinking she'd live forever. Alas, Her Majesty went and now so has our own queen.A few days ago, she looked 'wrong' and didn't want to eat. She was quiet, content and not in any pain. She did, however, lose a lot of what weight she had left overnight, her mouth became pale, her legs and breath cold, and I knew what was coming... She was now 'actively dying'. We made her comfortable, and said 'She'll be running around again later, same as the last six times she's frayed my last nerve'. Alas, the day after she could no longer stand, refused all food and water, and just wanted to sit on my feet (she literally crawled across the floor to get there, because her little legs had gone). Heartbroken, I knew it was the end for my faithful little pal.
Knowing she was close to her final moments, and not distressed, we decided to let her die at home where she was familiar and knew she was loved. We made her the softest of deep beds, syringed water to her lips to wet her mouth, and told her she was the best girl, thank you - it's OK. The children all had chance to (through a lot of tears) give her kisses and cuddles, and tell her she was loved. They went to bed (begrudgingly) and fell asleep. Unfortunately, old Gyp started to become distressed and agitated. I called the vet and asked to come straight in, wrapped her in a blanket and made a final journey.
I carried her to the table, and the vet popped in a cannula. They remarked that she was clearly well looked after and loved, to have reached such an age, and that they would have pegged her five years younger at most so 'we must have done something right'. A kind reassurance. I cradled her head in my hands (she couldn't hold it up herself now), and told her how loved she was and had been, thanked her for being such a good girl, and said "It's OK girl, you can go 'home' now". She looked into my eyes, wagged her tail, and went heavy in my hands. The vet hadn't even started the injection - she passed away when I told her to. Loyal to the end.
The vet just stared at me, checked her heart, and said they were sorry and of course there'll be no charge. So now we're waiting for her ashes, and staring at a tiny little collar where my little world used to lie. She's been with me for almost half of my life, and I'm devastated. We all are. I'm also, strangely, happy. She was very old, but didn't suffer from it until the last - something I still attribute to lots of work and raw food, and the vet agreed. She's had an amazing life, literally bounced up hill, across dale and down every hole she could find between Wales, Yorkshire and the Lakes; and she got the best of everything. It was time. So, surprisingly (to me) I have barely even cried - though as I type this, I want to again. I'm trying to be happy that I had her, and that she's now at peace - but I can't help also be sad for what I've lost, as much as she didn't have it in her to stay for one last Christmas.
Rest in peace, Gyp. You were a good dog... That'll do, girl. That'll do.
In her prime age ~3 after having a litter of (sought after) pups.
A few days before she passed - she was tired, and it was time.
Last edited:
