Mary & Secret

If not a man’s best friend, a girl’s best friend.

If not diamonds, dogs are a girl’s best friend.

Hi there,

Some of you may have already come across a post by Mary for Secret, her Australian Shepherd known as @my_aussie_gal on social media, requesting for donations. Secret has been diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukaemia, and treatment is nowhere near cheap. Thankfully, her treatment costs are covered, while the remainder of the donations will be used to further research in helping dogs survive cancer, which is the leading cause of death in dogs. Which is why I wrote this post.

I had come across Secret amply following Mary’s yoga poses, and balancing with grace during the height of the pandemic last year. Ever since, Secret has captured hearts, mine included, of how brilliantly she represents canine intelligence. And how much dogs can love.

My family and I lost our first dog to cancer, and both our dogs to illness. Which is why Mary’s request hit home. Which is also why I wrote this post, a request for you to donate whatever you can, or to share this post with your family and friends. We would have loved to still have our dogs around, who were both relatively young in dog years to pass away. Actually, somewhere around Secret’s age. Likewise, we all want to see Secret live alongside Mary. Even if it’s for a short while, without having to go through too much suffering. I know how it hurts to see your pet in pain. Our first dog suffered due to late-stage cancer without any prior signs. Maybe there were signs, but we were so unaware. In all the pain we saw him go through for the few weeks it lasted, before taking the decision to put him down, he remained responsive. For the time it lasted, we were in and out of the veterinary consultation room, helpless, listening to the vet’s diagnostic, struggling to feed our dog his medication, and struggling to keep him alive.

As the seizures got worse, his body gave way, his limbs not able to support his body anymore. That really hurt. It really hurts when you’re helpless to a devastating disease. Thinking that if I could at least take some pain away, it could be easier. During all the seizures he endured, happy for the hours they subdued, in the hope that this one would be the last, sitting by his weakening body, comforting him. There was little strength left in him. But always, there were his eyes. His gentle, amber eyes. The only response he could give to tell me he knew we were here, was to look at me.

The time prior to putting him down was really difficult. The last goodbyes. Knowing he wouldn’t be around once we got back. Though it meant ending his life, it meant ending his pain. It was the biggest relief. To be able to hold him gently, the vet asking if I was ready, saying “Yes”, for the veterinarian to administer the euthanasia. Shutting down his heart and his brain. It was so much better that way. He slipped away quickly. I battled to gulp back the growing lump and tears, the loss, as we wrapped his body to take him back home, to bury him where he belonged. I remember thinking “That’s it” you don’t have to suffer anymore. It was a hard, yet easy decision to have taken.

I often thought to myself that our first dog could have done canine L’Oréal ads if they existed. His fur was unbelievably jet black and silky. He equally loved his grooming. Our dogs were intelligent and quirky, and had the most beautiful eyes. Our first dog loved eating papaya, and our second dog loved eating in general.

To rewind, he was my first dog after years of wanting one. He was overly spoiled and pampered, mischievous and affectionate. With a heart as big as a canine’s heart can be. He played and comforted me, and snuggled onto the bed before I got up to get ready for school every morning. He was energetic and soft and a part of our lives. It’s always difficult to lose parts that are so important. When we got our second a few years later, we were worried our first would hurt her. I forgot how gentle and protective he was by nature. They got along fine, he got a little sister, she got a big brother, and her entire head fit into his mouth while they played together. Our younger dog was so quirky and cute, and she knew it. From squinting her eyes to pushing her ears bag just enough for you to give in, while wagging her tail for extra effect, scouting for biscuits to farting in the kitchen. Having a dog is an unmatched gift.

But that’s okay because they’re both running around in dog heaven, and rolling around in the grass and sunshine. In need of some light-heartedness because this post felt heavy and emotional.

We still fondly mention them now and then, recalling something funny they did, or how destructive our first dog was as a puppy. But always remembering the love they relentlessly showed up with, like only a dog can.

Please donate and share towards Mary’s cause,

The GoFundMe link to help Secret,

Rebecca

Our first dog

Our second dog