On Friday, a sunny, crisp day, our greyhound Melba made her trip to the Rainbow Bridge. It’s taken me a few days to pull myself together enough to write this and, truth to tell, I’m not doing much better now than I was then. While I have no regrets about our part in Melba’s life and its ending, I still miss her horribly. Knowing that it was probably best for her is only a small consolation. She was almost twelve and her cancer had spread to her internal organs. Until Friday, she was happy. There were, of course, drawbacks to her last months. She was old, and had arthritis. She had become incontinent and I think this bothered her quite a bit. She was a fastidious dog, precise in her habits and actions, so difficulty in moving and incontinence bothered her as much as they would any of us. She was still bouncy, though, and the mild pain-killers enabled her to follow me from room to room as my shadow throughout the day.

On Friday, I went out for the morning and left her on her bed in the kitchen, with Wikket for company. She had had a bounce around with the other dogs and seemed in good spirits. When I came home at lunchtime, she couldn’t get up, wouldn’t eat anything (even apple, which she adored) and was quite evidently in considerable pain. A trip to the vet revealed that there was no real decision to make. Opiates might ease her pain, but to what end? She had been happy up until that morning and, by the vet’s assessment, had only increased pain and misery to look forward to as her organs failed. The last gift we gave her was oblivion and a release from that pain. Melba slipped gently out of the world at sunset, about two weeks before her twelfth birthday.

There’s a part of me that is still angry at the parts of the world that failed Melba. She was a retired racer from the U.S., during which she was effectively treated as livestock. Her career ended with a broken leg that healed badly, causing her to limp and, in her old age, giving her pain as her arthritis worsened. She was adopted through a fabulous rescue organisation, GPAC, to a family that decided not to keep her when she was almost eleven (through no fault of the rescue organisation, I might add).

At ten years of age, she found herself back with GPAC and en route to Newfoundland to a new foster home where she was well and truly loved. I don’t know much about the people who had her before she came to Newfoundland (other than that they effectively dumped her in her twilight years), but I do know that Melba’s fortune changed for the better when she met Lauren. I’m sure she missed Louie, her “brother” from her first adoptive home, but having Storm and Prince (Lauren’s two greys at the time) around must have reassured her tremendously. She lived with Lauren for several months before John and I found out about her and inquired about adopting her.

Those of you who have spent any time around her know that “there was just something about Melba,” as Lauren once put it to me. She had a beautiful face, warm, brown eyes and a personality that was quirky, joyful, cuddly and compassionate all rolled into one brindled bundle. We fell in love with her almost instantly and she came to live with us.

She and Ferg developed a strange friendship, probably born of Melba’s need for physical contact with other dogs. I’d often find them curled up together, with Melba’s head resting on Ferg’s back. Melba was my constant shadow and had beds in all of the rooms in the house in which I spent any time. As I moved, she would follow me. She hated to be alone. When I came home after going out, she would prance around with delight and toss her stuffed toys at me.

She loved apple, hotdogs and pizza. Her favorite place to sleep was on our bed.

On Saturday I got up to do some quick work before heading to the Craft Fair and saw the empty blanket still under my table in the studio. I think Ferg saw the look on my face because she walked over and curled up in Melba’s spot as if to say, “I’m here. You’re not alone. I remember her too.”

Oh crap, I’m crying again….

I miss her.

Melba, thank you for the months you spent with us. We love you and hope you’re happy and free from pain. I learned a lot about dignity and love from you. Where ever you are now, I’ll get to eventually and I’ll bring you an apple. Keep an eye out for Louie, Prince, Storm, Ferg and Wikket when their times come. I’m sure they’ll be looking for you.