I have survived losing my hair during chemo and having to endure it growing back again in tight curls, like an old lady perm.
I have survived leaving my premature baby behind in hospital, not once, but twice. I have been sick, been hurt – both physically and mentally, been anxious, been depressed. I have even survived not one, but two of my children having a chronic illness, so why am I so upset at the thought of having to put down the family dog?
Dogs can tell when you’re upset, and they want to help! Post continues after video.
A bit of background here. We had not thought of getting a dog; our life was frantic enough without a dog. We had tried looking after stick insects, but as they grew their gnarly wooden bodies scared both the kids and myself. No one wanted to get them out of the cage.
In the end, we decided rather than just let them die of neglect, we would release them into a local park. So when some friends of ours packed up to live overseas, we agreed to look after their five-year-old miniature poodle for six months. He came complete with a plush dog bed that was too big for him, a stuffed toy elephant that he’d stolen from their son, and a bad case of anxiety after seeing his family leave him behind.
And when the six months were up, we did not want to pack him up and send him all the way to England, alone. We wanted to keep him, because despite the fact that he refused to be trained by us, Bertie had gotten under our skin. He slowly went from being kept upstairs at night, to down in the laundry, to on the floor of the kids’ bedrooms.