One week on...

... and I am still incredibly sad. I miss my boy terribly! I can honestly say that other than the final days and weeks surrounding my mum's passing that last week was one of the worst weeks of my entire life.
At almost 12 years I knew Brad wasn't going to be around forever, but I never contemplated that his time would come quite so soon - or during my chemotherapy treatment - it seems that fate has delivered particularly cruel timing; really it could not have been worse. Through all life's ups and downs in recent months (and years) not once have I allowed myself to say 'it’s not fair' - or 'why me' (as my old head teacher always said ' why not me?') - But I have my limits. And last week I felt life was cruel, it was unfair and I’d had enough of the endless barrage of badness that keeps coming my way! Having spent the previous weekend throwing up in hospital probably compounded those feelings. I'd tried so hard to be positive, to keep smiling, to keep looking to a brighter future... yet still STILL things get worse. The bottom line is life is unfair at times - for some of us it seems more so than others - but I guess that's the randomness of fate. We can't control what is out of our control - only our response to it; it's just that that takes great strength of mind at times. But it's not impossible.
The only blessing, which in the face of the loss of my best mate is of little comfort at the moment - is that it was quick - 48 hours and no pain - and he died naturally so at least I am not haunted by the decision of having to put him to sleep (perhaps fate was 'kind' to me and to Brad in that respect).
As I think I said my worst fear was that he would die alone, in a 'cage' at the vets - that's exactly what happened - but having now had time to reflect perhaps I am able to accept that in the circumstances that was for the best. By the time I took him to the vets on Thursday morning he was a very poorly boy - he no longer had the strength to stand without my help, and had lost a lot of blood - he didn't protest as the vet and the vet nurse lifted him out of the car in his bed, ordinarily he'd have freaked out!
The dilemma the vet faced was whether or not to do the blood transfusion - due to huge risks involved. He monitored Bradley and as Bradley hadn't lost anymore blood that day and tests showed his clotting factors were starting to come back he decided not to do the transfusion (a decision with hindsight I know Owen regrets, but in his situation I would've made the same decision - I know he desperately wanted to keep Bradley alive as much for me as for him - I was very poorly myself really last week). The irony was that just as I arrived Bradley had turned himself around in his bed - and suffered another massive blood loss - the first of the day, but at 6.30 it was too late to do the transfusion.
As I looked at my boy I thought I was going to have to do the kind thing there and then, he was panting heavily (as I understand it due to lack of oxygen because of the blood loss) and really showed little response to me in any usual way. I didn't know what to do, so ultimately I was guided by Owen (the vet) - as he said, Bradley was still bright eyed and although very anemic, still had a nice pink tongue and other than having no energy still didn't look ill - he just looked like my Bradley, the same as ever. So, we decided to give him the chance to pull through the night. I'm glad we did, as I think if we'd put him to sleep then, I would've always wondered 'what if'. He was too poorly to bring home, and perhaps if I had and he'd died at home I would've been traumatized with the memories of him dying in the house, and then having to deal with everything after - I don’t know. Anyway, Julie (his other day 'mummy' ~ when I’m at work) gave him a cuddle and said her goodbyes, then I gently lay beside him (half in the cage with him!) cried, and said what I suppose I knew to be my final goodbyes. I loved him and he was my 'best boy' - and always will be.
I didn't sleep much Thursday night - I lay awake knowing he was just down the road, but not knowing if he was still with us. Eventually Friday morning came, and Julie arrived to be with me for when I made the call to the vets (I honestly don't know how I would've got through those few days without her strength and support - she was amazing, thank you). Having had time to think, I knew the possibilities - and I knew if I heard the words 'I am sorry' what that would mean, and that I would then say ' can I call you back'...
Still, somehow not quite expecting to hear those 3 words I phoned with a hopeful heart - which was soon to be devastated. We cried and cried and cried some more - I'm still crying now! The hardest thing about death is its finality - never again to see/ hug/ share experiences - just the memories remain - and I know in time offer comfort but right now everything is too raw and there are reminders everywhere - especially his absence - no more plodding upstairs, greeting visitors with his cushion, feeding him the leftover rice – just an empty space -and how it hurts. If you've ever had a dog you'll understand - if you haven't then you probably won't - the bond is a special one, and one that I will never be able to replace, he was my special boy always will be.
R.I.P Bradley 20.06.97 - 15.05.09 Run free my boy xxx