January 13, 2013
It’s three years tomorrow since I last held my boy. I can’t believe its been so long now, but somehow, it is all so raw and it feels like just yesterday.
It’s meant to snow tonight/tomorrow. I think it will and I know it will be him.
We have your balloons ready, Barney. They’ll be flying up towards you on your rainbow tomorrow morning. Xxx
January 14, 2012
It’s been two years since our beautiful Barney completed his life in this world and moved on to his next – to his rainbow in the sky. It’s quite apt that we tell Luke that Barney is on a rainbow looking down, simply because for a dog that was black and white, he was one of the most colourful characters I’ve ever had the pleasure of having in my life.
Two years on I still miss him terribly. There is still a big hole.
Today we’ll send balloons up to his rainbow with our messages. We know he’s up there having a ball.
We love and miss you so much boy xxxxx
October 21, 2011
I just want to say something very simple today.
‘Happy Birthday’ Barney.
Nobody will ever truly understand how much I still miss you. People probably think ‘it’s just a dog’ but you were so much more than that. You fought such a tough battle with cancer. You lost half your jaw and never once let it get you down. Had you been human, people would say how brave you were. Cancer is cancer, no matter who or what you are. You were simply amazing.
Balloons will be flying up toward your rainbow this afternoon. Make sure you look out for them. XxXxXxX
January 13, 2011
This time last year, I was laying on the hall carpet,
cuddling my beautiful Barney, the boy who had been my best friend
for very nearly 11 years, trying to convince myself that I could
hear his heart beating properly. Trying to convince myself that he
was well and trying to convince myself that it was all a mistake
and that we’d come home from his next appointment at the vet’s,
laughing and smiling. Deep down, I knew, just knew that I was
wrong. It’s been a year since we had to say goodbye to him. A whole
year since he was here, snoring at our feet and able to stroke and
cuddle him. I miss him more than words can say. Not a day passes
where I don’t think of him and where he’s not mentioned in this
house. I love and miss you Barney. You will always be with us and
we’ll never forget you. We’ll do something special for you on your
first anniversary. Look out for some special balloons heading up toward your rainbow. Love forever, Mummy xxxx
October 21, 2010
Today is Barney’s birthday. He would have been 12.
A year ago, when we took him to Old Hunstanton, all together as a family on his 11th birthday, it didn’t cross our minds that he wouldn’t be here for this birthday. We were just so happy at the thought that he was well and had beaten that vicious disease. How wrong we were.
It breaks my heart. That’s all I can say.
Barney, we love you and we miss you so much. We’ll be going to the beach this afternoon and sending you some special balloons up to your rainbow. I hope you get them.
With Lots of Love from Mummy, Daddy and Luke
September 14, 2010
It’s 8 months today since we lost our beautiful Barney. 8 months since we last touched him, kissed him and cuddled him. 8 long months and it’s not getting any easier.
I miss everything about him. Winter is fast approaching and I know I’m going to miss the muddy paw-prints that used to make a real mess of the tiled kitchen floor, the muddy paw-prints that used to stain our carpets and the muddy paw-prints that sometimes ended up on our duvet cover. I already miss the hair that used to carpet our floors and gave me reason to hoover two, sometimes three times a day. I miss tripping over my little bundle of black, furry energy.
He’s everywhere. He’s spoken about daily. Luke mentions him every single day at breakfast. Whether he remembers Barney or not, remains to be seen, or if his ‘memories’ are through the pictures that decorate most walls in this house, shelves and our fridge and through the chat that he hears between Matt and I. Who knows. I hope he does remember him. He asks to kiss his box every day, because he witnesses me doing it. It may be his ashes but to me it’s the one thing I can touch and feel close to him in some way.I don’t care if people think that is weird. It’s what I want to do.
Barely anything of his has been moved in this house. His collars that have been collected over the years, and then retired when he got a new one (most Christmases), are still hanging from the airing cupboard door handle. His bed remains on the floor next to our bed where he slept his entire life in this house. His toys have been put away in a box because we had to collect them from all over the house, garden and car. I didn’t want to lose the smell of him from those things and didn’t want anyone else touching them so they were stored safely. His shampoo is still sitting on the side of the bath and I smell that frequently because he always smelled so fresh due to needing baths so often.
I don’ t think I will ever move these things. I don’t see a need to.
All I can hope for is that this winter brings some snow. Why? Because Barney loved the snow and snow for us is now associated with him. Some of my fondest memories of him are of through the years when it snowed. My final memory is not so fond. His final footsteps were on snowy ground and I will never forget that.
I miss you Barney. My heart is still entirely broken.
June 27, 2010
It’s been five and a half months since Barney left us. It’s been hard. I miss him so much that it still hurts to think about him not being here.
I see dogs out and about and can’t bear to make eye contact with them for fear that I’ll see something in their eyes that will remind me too much of him. It’s ridiculous because I remember every single thing about Barney and I don’t need another dog to kick start me memories. I remember the way his fur felt, the way it curled around his neck and the smoothness of the fur around his eyes and down to his nose. I remember the way he smelled and so many smells remind me of him too.
I miss him being under my feet and tripping over him. I miss him sitting in the kitchen waiting for his dinner and any food that may have fallen on the floor. I miss the craziness of him getting his lead on to go out for a walk – as if every time was the first time. I miss hearing him twitch and snore in his bed at night. I miss him scratching and scraping at his bed because it’s too lumpy. I miss him barking at us in the morning to force us out of bed because he wants his breakfast. I miss him running up to meet us when we come home. I miss having to call him downstairs to make sure he is okay. I miss sticking my hand down his throat to retrieve something he had eaten that he shouldn’t have. I miss playing with him. I miss brushing him. I miss having him to worry about. I miss our trips in the car whether it be to the park or the vets. Everywhere we took Barney was an adventure. I miss seeing him and Luke together.
I just miss HIM. Everything about him. Every aspect of him and his/ours lives. I cry daily for him. I kiss him and I speak to him every day. If I had a wish…..
March 8, 2010
If we could have a lifetime wish,
a dream that would come true,
we’d pray to above with all our hearts
for yesterday and you.
A thousand words can’t bring you back,
we know because we’ve tried.
Neither will a thousand tears,
we know because we’ve cried.
You left behind our broken hearts
and happy memories too…
but we never wanted memories;
we only want
Missing you Barney Boy. So much. I love you baby xxxx
January 24, 2010
I had Barney from 14 weeks old. We spent exactly 2 weeks short of 11 years together. That’s a third of my entire life. It’s a long time.
Some people have dogs and they sleep in the kitchen/hallway, get walked because it’s necessary and are confined to certain parts of the house. Not Barney, he was a real part of the family. He slept in our room in his own bed, we went on family walks and even took him out for special walks on his birthdays. We wrote him cards and wrapped him presents for all special occasions (birthdays, Christmas etc). He was included in everything we did. He was a proper part of the family. He may have been a dog but we treated him like a child. Yes, he toileted in the garden but you have to draw a line somewhere. I’m sure that had we been able to train him to use a toilet, we probably would have done.
I get the feeling some people think that a week of grieving for a dog is more than enough, that I should be over it by now and getting on with things and just be grateful for the other things I have in life. Just because I feel depressed right now, doesn’t mean that I’m not grateful for my beautiful, (almost) 2 year old. My love for him is unconditional, just as it was, and still is for Barney. I don’t need to be told to be grateful for what I have. I already am very grateful but it doesn’t lessen the pain that I’m feeling about losing one love of my life.
I know time heals. Well, actually, that’s rubbish. It doesn’t heal, it just makes the pain feel less raw and grief easier to cope with. I know that in time I will be able to remember Barney with smiles and laughter, but, there will always be tears too.
Barney made up a quarter of this family unit, and we’re a very tight unit, so losing him has made a big difference to our lives. It’s had a massive impact and it’s not one that we’re going to just get over. It’s going to take time.
I’ve spent years supporting others, never asked for anything, rarely complained, so it’s sometimes a little saddening that I don’t get the same level of support when needed.
Such is life though.
January 17, 2010
I’m not yet ready to talk, but people keep asking what happened. This will be brief and then when I’m able to, I’ll speak about it more.
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed a change in Barney’s breathing. It seemed slightly faster but laboured, somewhat. I took him straight to the vet who checked him over and said he seemed fine. He checked him well and I was happier when I left.
4 days later, (4th January), Barney was sick after eating so we took him to the vet again, although by this time, I was convinced something really wasn’t right and had to ask Matt to go in with him whilst I waited in the car because I just couldn’t handle it. I was feeling so worried. The vet he saw was our usual vet, the one who found his melanoma in May and he gave him a really good check over. He checked his heart rate, his breathing, his lungs, counted his resps and told Matt what to look out for and if we were still worried, that we’d see about a chest X-Ray for peace of mind. He left with an anti-sickness tablet and some to settle his stomach.
Barney continued to seem a little odd to me. I thought perhaps I was paranoid, but I guess it was mothers intuition. His breathing still wasn’t right so on 7th January, we went back and the vet decided to take blood and then referred us to a cardiologist. We had to go back the following week to another vet as that’s where the cardio worked from. We also had to book in with our usual vet a couple of days before the cardiologist appointment for him to have an ECG so they could send that off.
Barney continued to be sick, although it was very sporadic and happened only a couple of times. He started refusing his usual food, but whenever we gave him cooked chicken and rice, he couldn’t lick the bowl clean enough. We hoped he was just playing us a little and being his usual naughty self.
The ECG was done on 12th January and the outcome wasn’t great. Although the trace wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t as it should be and when our vet called the cardiologist, he said it was possible that there was a mass or fluid around the heart.
We prayed for 2 days that it would be fluid as that could be treated to some extent.
We got ready on Thursday morning, (14th January) and we left the house in a rather somber mood. We did stop to take some pictures that morning, just for the sake of it. Little did we know that they would be the last pictures of our beautiful boy. 😦
We expected to drop Barney off and collect him when his ultrasound and X-Rays (if required) had been completed. He pulled me across the icy car park as he usually did, full of strength. When we arrived, the cardiologist pulled us into the room, shaved Barney under his leg and started scanning him.
He found that Barney’s poor little heart was surrounded by a tumour. Then he told us that the prognosis was very poor. His words were “his heart is still beating at the moment”. He said there was little point in doing an X-Ray but Matt wasn’t accepting it on a scan and requested he did. I could barely breathe by this point and couldn’t speak.
The vet and a nurse went to prepare the X-Ray whilst we waited. The only words that were spoken were me saying “he’s going to say to put him to sleep”. I knew it. But never did I think it would be there and then.
The X-Ray was done a few minutes later and the vet came out and asked us to follow him. He told us to be quiet as Barney was sedated but could still hear us. I could see his eyes flicker when he heard us walk into the room.
There was an X-Ray on the lightbox and he pointed out that he couldn’t even see my baby’s heart because there was so much fluid everywhere. His poor lungs were drowning. Further horror showed that he was riddled with tumours in his chest and he also told us that he had a massive tumour in his spleen.
At that point he told us it would be kinder to let him go whilst he was calm and feeling no pain. Matt asked how long he would have and he basically said “anytime”.
I can’t tell you the rest. This is hard enough, but we were there with him the whole time, stroking and whispering and kissing him.
Barney was put to sleep on Thursday 14th January 2010, at 10.15am.
Our world has collapsed. We miss him more than I could ever express here.
This is the last picture of our strong, brave, gorgeous puppy. He was 11 years, 2 months and 3 weeks young.
Thank you all for your kind texts, messages on Facebook etc, they’re much appreciated but for now I can’t reply to any individually.