Mike's musings

Buster's dead

(backposting) We were up at 0200: Buster was barking, and not well. Panting, drooling so much. I ended up calling the emergency vet number. I spoke to a very nice female vet, who was very reassuring, and we agreed that Buster clearly had a temperature. She said that other than giving him painkillers, she wouldn't be able to give him much more than the medication we already had, given the symptoms that I'd described. She encouraged me to give him his medication a little early, and to try to get him to have some food as well. I got the medication down him, but not the food. And though I went upstairs, I was down again a few minutes later, as he was clearly very upset. I let him outside, as it was cooler out there. We went to bed.

I was up at 0630 to deacon at the 0800 communion service. After getting dressed and some food, I went outside. I called Buster, and he padded down the drive, though he didn't look well. He had knocked over his water bowl, so I filled it up, and he came to drink from it, but then collapsed. I went and got Moo, and we put the water in front of him, but he really couldn't drink from it. I phoned the emergency vet again, and as I was on the phone, he tried to get up again, and failed. They said to bring him in to the surgery in Witham - about 30 minutes away.

I brought Moo's car down, we put some towels in it, and I had to manhandle poor Buster into the boot, because he couldn't give me any help at all.

I drove there faster than I should have done, in places, though I think I drove safely. And I chatted to Buster from time to time, through some tears. When I got there, I rang the bell, and the receptionist/assistant came out. But when we opened the boot, I was unsurprised to find that Buster was dead. The vet came, and confirmed it.

They'd had a terrible night. Buster was not the first dog to turn up dead. They'd had to put another one down, and other things had gone badly. I felt for them very much. They were great, though, and I don't think that there would have been anything they could have done if I'd turned up earlier. Nor do I blame our vets - I think that, given the symptoms, all was done that could be done. Sometimes, animals die. Particularly Newfoundlands, I'm afraid.

Moo hadn't expected that he'd be dead when I came back and told her, and Jo didn't quite get it, though she's been saying on and off that she's sad. Her first reaction was to try to cheer us up - I cried when I told her. And Miri's been waving at the French windows from time to time, as if she was looking for him.

Oh, I'd told John, my training incumbent, that I'd not make the 0800, and he was very understanding. I made the 1000, and it was marvellous! I performed the deacon's role, including reading the Gospel, preparing the altar and the elements, inviting people to the Peace, and the dismissal. As I walked up the the nave with New Testament, I realised that I had a new home, and it was very emotional.

We went out to lunch - we felt we deserved it - and then went to RSPA Danaher, where we got Buster. We told them about him, and then went to look at kittens. We could pretend that it was for the girls, but that would be a lie.

And in the late afternoon, Si and D came around with Morgs and Boo and their kids. And their dogs. We had a good barbecue, and it was good to have dogs around.

I really loved Buster. But I find it easier to accept his death than I thought. Partly because we've been through it before with Suzy. Partly because I have not the slightest doubt that Buster and Suzy are both in heaven. With Meg. And, as Jo said tonight, when we were saying prayers, let's pray that Meg and Buster are playing together.

Labels: buster, diaconate, ministry