I help the shamed grieve for their pets
Amanda Large, 47, from Belfast, continues to keep her pup’s memory alive…
De��es� T���,
Travelling in the car to the rescue centre to collect you,
I was ever so excited and happy.
It was 5 November 2006, a day that I will always treasure.
Your elderly owner had gone into a hospice, and you needed a home.
At four years old, you only had one eye, but that didn’t matter to me.
Iwas anticipating all the cuddles I’d get from my cute, fluffy little bundle of love.
Only, you weren’t what I had pictured at all, Toby…
Your filthy, matted hair and stubborn ways came as a shock.
Growling and snarling, I thought you’d never want to be my friend.
On the way home, I stopped at a petrol station and bought you a breakfast roll – a peace offering of sorts.
You accepted it, until the food was gone, and then tried to savage me again!
That first night, you refused to let anyone in the sitting room with you.
You didn’t bond with my daughters Alison, now 27, Zareh, now 23, and Corey, now 18, either!
‘He hates us!’ I told the girls. The following morning, I found you unwell.
The vet diagnosed you with a very bad dose of kennel cough.
During that period, I nursed you and we bonded.
Somehow, you gained my trust and from that point on, you were glued to me all the time.
We did everything together and had so many happy adventures.
One time, I had to stay overnight unexpectedly on a work trip, and you were with me.
Sneaking you through hotel reception in a sports bag, I coughed and sneezed to cover your growls.
It was such a laugh when we made it upstairs.
You had your own walk, Toby – shaking your bum with your tail up in the air.
I nicknamed you Toblemoss, after you secretly ate an entire chocolate Toblerone under the Christmas tree. You were my best friend, my comfort and my saviour, too.
In 2009, I discovered that I was pregnant.
When I came home from the hospital with my baby boy Thomas, you took to him straight away.
Sadly, after three months, Thomas passed away with SIDS.
I was heartbroken and mourning, and you mirrored my every mood.
Then when I had my son Phoenix, now nine, you protected him. Shih Tzu’s are meant to be small, but you were big and muscular and strong.
You loved Mcdonald’s and could sniff it out a mile away.
Barking your order, you scoffed on a cheeseburger. I spoilt you so much.
It was hard not to, when you refused to eat dog food!
Dining out of human bowls and mugs, you slurped sweet breakfast tea.
You ate whatever I ate, just like you had done with your elderly owner.
The local Chinese knew your
The local Chinese knew your order
order off by heart.
‘Boiled chicken and rice for the dog,’ they’d say.
You loved walking on the beach, but you were lazy, too.
I had to carry you or push you in the pram.
How we got some funny looks from passers-by!
As time passed, I could see that you were getting older and much weaker.
In August 2017, you started getting nosebleeds and having trouble breathing.
I knew something was seriously wrong.
On 5 November, we celebrated your birthday with a dog cake and a beef roast dinner – your favourite.
That was the last proper meal you ever ate.
Your appetite went downhill from then on.
I had to hand feed you and carry you to the toilet.
The vet decided that the only option was to put you under anaesthetic.
We didn’t believe you’d survive – it was the fairest way for you to go.
Pushing you to the surgery in your doggy pram, I said my final goodbyes: ‘You can leave me now,’ I whispered in your ear. ‘If you do pull through, I promise I’ll do whatever it takes for you to get better.’
Two hours later, I got a call from the vet.
‘He’s alive,’ she said, shocked. Relief quickly turned into my worst nightmare.
The vet found a nasal tumour that was untreatable and terminal.
I wasn’t prepared for the decision I had to make – to put you to sleep.
‘It’s best to do it now, whilst he’s still groggy from the anaesthetic,’ the vet said.
I held you close as you let out your last little grunt, which you always did when you were feeling happy.
Driving home with your body, my heart was ripped to pieces.
It felt like I had lost a second precious child.
But this time, I didn’t have my favourite shadow to comfort me.
I organised a memorial service at the crematorium, and many came to say their goodbyes.
Sadly, it seemed that not everyone understood the level of pain and grief I was experiencing for a pet.
After time had passed, I decided to become a Shih Tzu foster mum.
You’d have been proud. At one point, I had seven rescue pups in my care.
One elderly pup reminded me so much of you, Toby. Through fostering, I met Olivia Kennedy, a veterinarian and owner of Lucy’s Trust charity. We talked about the loss of a pet, and to my surprise, she felt the same as I did. When you lose a beloved animal, it is difficult to get closure in the same way as losing a person. Together, we came up with the idea of holding an annual pet memorial service here at home in Belfast.
I wanted to do something in your memory, Toby, and this felt like the perfect tribute. Advertising in the local paper and radio, I organised the first pet memorial service in June 2018.
It was a huge success. There was music, tributes, poems, speeches and a candle lighting procession.
Over 60 people travelled to Belfast Castle, in honour of their cats, dogs, rabbits and even hamsters, holding ashes and photographs, sharing their fond memories of pets. In June 2019, more than 100 people joined at Dublin Unitarian Church. We made sure it was nondenominational so that everyone felt welcome, no matter their beliefs, if any. We sang See You Again and comforted each other.
You were there in the church in spirit, Toby. Although tears still fill my eyes when I think about the day I lost you, I am so proud that you’ve made your mark in the world.
Now, other people will not feel ashamed for showing their grief of losing a pet. And every year, they will have an opportunity to keep their animal’s memory alive. Whatever the species, pets are family and a big part of our lives.
As special as humans. I will never ever forget you, Toblemoss.
Our adventures I’ll treasure forever.
It felt like I had lost a second child