We’ve shared Queen’s heartache of losing beloved dog
The Queen has reportedly been hit hard by the passing of her beloved last royal corgi, Willow, who died last Sunday. Lindy McDowell, Jim Deeds and Barbara McCann on how they share the pain of losing a much-loved friend ...
Madadh (pronounced “Mah-doo” — the Irish word for dog) was our first Great Dane. He arrived to us at just nine weeks old. He was a small brown and white pup who could be cradled in our hands. But Great Danes don’t stay small for long! Madadh grew at great speed and by the time he was 18 months old he was 10 stone in weight and stood about three feet at his shoulder. He was a BIG dog.
He was also a big part of our lives. He brought us tears of laughter; Great Danes are the funniest dogs at times. He brought us a fair amount of frustration too; Great Danes love to chew sofas and table legs and just about anything other than the toys we buy them to chew.
They say that a Great Dane will bond to one person in the family more than others. I fed him and walked him and brushed him. So it’s not surprising that we had that special bond. Each day I spent hours with him. Some of those days were days that I was feeling stressed or ill or sad. Madadh was there through it all, unchanging in his loyalty and affection for me. He helped me to smile when it did not seem that smiling was possible. He was my friend, I guess.
Looking back now, there were signs. I remember walking through Belfast City Cemetery one morning and turning to my side to say something to Madadh like: ‘You okay big man?’, and seeing that he wasn’t there. He was tired and had fallen behind me. I waited for him. He came over to me and leaned on me the way that all Great Danes will do. We rested a while and moved on. He slept well when we got home and appeared fine.
A few days later I noticed he had a cough. I took him to the vet and they gave him some medication and advised rest and pampering. He got both in abundance. But the cough would not shift. I took Madadh back to the vet, who did blood tests and came back with the devastating news that Madadh had kidney failure as well as a chest infection and was unable to fight either well. We should take him home and keep him comfortable.
Some days later it became clear that my big friend was not doing well. He was weak and unable to breathe easily. We had some discussions with the
‘I cuddled him in the vet’s as he slowly and gently slipped away’
family and with the vet, and we came to the achingly difficult decision to let Madadh’s suffering end.
Now, I don’t know about you, but when my friends are going through a tough time, I don’t leave them alone. So, I stayed with Madadh right to the end. I cuddled him in the vet’s treatment room as he slowly and gently slipped away and out of our lives. Through my tears I said goodbye to a dog who owed me nothing; a dog who gave me so much more than I gave him.
One of the most difficult things that day was walking out through the vet’s waiting room with Madadh’s lead and collar in my hand. I could see the other people in the waiting room looking at me with sympathy. They knew what I was going through, I think.
In the days that followed Madadh’s death we received his ashes in a lovely container that was designed to allow for the ashes to be spread wherever the owner felt most appropriate. I thought that to spread Madadh’s ashes on Divis Mountain, where we had spent many hours walking together, would be very appropriate indeed. That was the plan. However, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
And so, to this day, some two-and-ahalf-years later, Madadh’s ashes sit in their pretty container on my bedside table. Every morning when I wake up I see them and they remind me of the good times we shared. They remind me what unconditional love and loyalty is. They remind me of my friend.
One thing that unites all pet owners is that losing your pet isn’t easy. Whether you’re a simple Belfast man like me or the Queen of England herself, losing your beloved pet isn’t easy. They occupy a special place in our lives and we feel their absence every day. Rest well big Madadh.