Angel

In April the fields all around us were filled with the bright yellow flowers of rapeseed. Beautiful as it looked, it’s a crop which plays havoc with my hay fever. My nose was blocked, my head ached and I looked forward to the following month where things should have settled down. As my symptoms began, it seemed that Angel was suffering the same. She’d never had hay fever before, but the coincidence seemed to suggest it. Casually, when we were at the vet with Cerise, we asked him if dogs can experience hay fever in a similar way, he said they can and as her symptoms were only mild we didn’t worry at the time. But he said to book her in if we were concerned. We weren’t, not then.

A few weeks later, they were still present and getting more noticeable and we took her along to see him. Her snoring and snuffling, a bit of sneezing didn’t appear to cause her any distress, and a course of medication should have resolved things.

Only it didn’t.

A short course of steroids was next. I started to get more concerned, although still Angel was unperturbed. She happily continued her way through our daily routines, barking at me at all the usual times: first thing for breakfast, after lunch when she always announces she’s taking herself out to the garden for a wee, at 4.30pm on the dot if I’m not in the kitchen preparing the dogs’ dinner. She keenly came out for walks.

All was in normal working order with Angel and her life. Except for the snoring and blocked nose which had changed from sniffles, to sounding like she had a heavy cold. Mouth breathing isn’t a normal reflex for dogs, so at times as she adjusted her breathing the sounds were unlike anything I’d heard from any dog before. I started to worry. Online searches threw up things I didn’t want to think about.

Then, a couple of Sundays ago as I sat with her on my lap, gently stroking between her eyes and down her nose, something she’s always loved, I felt a lump. Had it appeared overnight? It hadn’t been there a few days earlier that I knew for sure. Now I was properly worried. But kept telling myself to stay calm and we’d see the vet the next day and he’d tell us that it was a grass seed that had been festering there for weeks, or a pea, or,

or,

or…

anything but what I really feared, a tumour.

He didn’t tell us that. He sent us to Bergerac for a scan which would tell us for sure what it was. So on a very hot Friday, with a kind, compassionate stranger, we sat in a clinic and heard the news that Angel has a ‘very aggressive’ tumour which is destroying her nasal space. By then we almost didn’t need the scan to confirm what was now obvious, and growing more visible all the time. It was a devastating diagnosis and in that room I cried the tears that I needed to, before Angel was brought through to us to take home and love, and love and love with all my heart for the time we have left together.

I know I need to be strong. She doesn’t know she is dying. And nor do the others. They, Albert especially who was badly affected by Renae’s death, need my courage and stability. Writing helps me to process any strong emotions which threaten to overwhelm me and so I will write through this unbearably sad time. This blog began as a way of showing the happiness gained by Susie-Belle when we started our life together in 2011. It has been here for all the ups and downs with all the dogs who have come since. And it is a place I now come back to for Angel.

On Thursday we saw our regular vet who has been treating our dogs for 26 years. We could not ask for a kinder man to help Angel – and us – through what is happening. She is not suffering. He felt it was a little early to bring her life to an end, as she is still enjoying it in all ways that matter. But it is only a matter of weeks, it could just be days. She is eating well and Michel is providing all her favourites. This week with the high heat levels in France she – as well as the others – loved a rich selection of frozen treats, some we’ve never made before. Everyone loved them and most importantly, Angel gobbled them with gusto.

We know what we need to look out for. The tumour is more visible every day. I try not to look at the growth, although it is impossible not to as it spreads across her nose. I ignore it and see just my beautiful Angel, happy, free spirited Angel. The sounds it causes her to make are more audible every day. The sounds will be what I remember for years to come. The sounds I love to hear are Angel barking her orders at me and each one is banked in my memory for later.

We know what we need to do and when, and we will make the decision when it is right for Angel.

I will write again, I wish to honour Angel’s life with everything I have, and right now, writing for her feels right.