Arthur

Today we'll wrap him in his blanket and bury him in the garden-the hole has already been dug. Such a sad, abrupt, shocking end for the little black dog who was part of our family for such a short while. Seven months and one day old, he was still a baby, never even had a haircut, never graduated from puppy food.

We'd thought long and hard about getting a dog, or rather, I'd eventually been talked round. I'm not a dog person, not an animal person at all, if I'm honest-it always makes me slightly ashamed to admit that, as though I'm somehow lacking, or born missing a vital piece. Maybe its because we never had a dog at home growing up, or maybe its just me. So I bought the books before we got him, just like I did years ago when I was newly pregnant, not trusting my own instincts, not confident enough to 'go with the flow'.

Certainly not like Himself, who fell hard for the little black wriggly thing, carrying him around like a baby and  putting him up to my face for kisses, while I flapped him away. Definitely not like the children, who let him lick their faces and raced him round the garden, while I worried about training schedules and flea treatments. I should have just relaxed. I thought my 'job' was to monitor his cleanliness and his food intake and his pit stops.  To keep him off the couch and keep the doors closed and take the shoes off him.I thought I'd have plenty of time for all the rest, sure we'd have him for years and years, but if I could just get the good habits in as a puppy, we'd all reap the benefits later. I was wrong. 

Like the toddler he was, he didn't see the danger of the lumbering tractor with the trailer behind. It wasn't even on a road, just on the little lane that goes past our house. We don't usually worry about traffic because there's just so little of it. And anyway, I was far more concerned about his infuriating love for rolling in slurry, or barking at the neighbours' chickens. 

I was still in my nightdress as I ran outside, tasting dread in my throat. The driver's so young, was my thought as he walked towards me, shaking his head. Where those tears in his eyes? 
I heard the boys' sobs before I saw him. He'd died instantly. There would be no frantic hope filled rush to the vet's, but no slow painful death either. That was the only blessing. 

Then the shock, and with it the tears. I wish I could take away all the children's pain, this first proper brush with loss and the cruel, inevitable dawning of  the slender line between life and death. Himself is stoic, pragmatic even, and unbearably sad. 

And me? I didn't appreciate before how traumatic this loss would be. I didn't understand before how much part of our family he was. I didn't realise before how much I loved him too. 
Rest and Frolic in Peace,  Arthur

. xxx

A Small Slice of Life

I have quite the weekend ahead. For the next forty eight hours I have places to go, people to see and things to do. Some of that time will be filled with joy and excitement, some of it with sorrow and reflection. The mother of one of my oldest friend's died yesterday- I can still picture her in my head laughing, as she did the 'slush' with her sisters, at her daughter's wedding. It was their signature dance and now she's gone. Tonight I'll go to her wake, and tomorrow to her funeral.
My mum had a birthday two weeks ago, but because my brother is home from America, we're going to her favourite restaurant tonight to celebrate. Another great friend is tying the knot in a few weeks, and this happens to be her hen weekend, so tomorrow evening I'm off to Carlingford to help give her the send off she so richly deserves. Then, on Sunday afternoon, the whole clan is coming to ours for lunch- a sort of 'last supper' for my brother who is heading Stateside again on Monday. Phew!
The thing is, that last night when I was thinking of all the plans, and running through the organizing required to make it all work, I found that I was feeling a bit, well, stressed. And kind of wishing the weekend away, just so that I could get to Sunday night, and finally be sitting down with a cuppa and everything ticked off my list. But then thankfully, I realized that I was looking at it entirely the wrong way, and completely missing the whole point in the process. This weekend actually represents a little slice of life - there's celebrations of life, and death, and quality time with friends and family, and surely that's what its all about? So, instead of viewing it as a whole entity, I looked again at the individual parts, and began to feel a lot less of the stressed and much more of the blessed.
 I'll celebrate my mum's birthday with family tonight, while my good friend stands at her mother's grave tomorrow- it will be my privilege to be there and stand alongside her. I'm able to spend time with my brother, who lives 6000 miles away, when recently an acquaintance told me, that her brother hadn't been home for ten years.  I've also waited months to celebrate our lovely Nuala's impending nuptials in a wholesome and sensible way (Ha!), and this Saturday night we'll do that in style! And as for the full house on Sunday? Well, everyone's bringing something, and they'll all muck in, and sure the craic will be ninety. So here's to this weekend, which I think I can say with some certainty, won't be a boring one ....let's be having ya!!