A little over 3 days ago a small but very intense light went out, leaving my life forever darker, and I am heartbroken.
Those of you who have never shared your life with a pet may not understand, but the rest of you will.
I never contemplated having children – my maternal instincts are all for animals, and while I love every one of them, some are just that little bit more special. and Frodo was one of those.
A joyous, bouncing bundle of fun from the moment he arrived, for nearly 14 years we have hardly been apart. Now he is gone and my car feels empty, the house is empty, my bed is empty. The word ‘forever’ bites into my heart, and while I know I will recover (sort of), and I know he had the best possible life and brought joy to so many who knew him, I can’t help feeling that my life will never quite recover.
It was all so quick, so unexpected. If I had to make the decision again, I would. I know it was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
If I could take in a rescue dog right now to fill that emptiness, I would, but my home situation (two very elderly parents, one bed-ridden and the other unsteady on her feet even with a walker) precludes introducing a new dog for safety reasons.
So I’m sharing this montage of his life, probably more for me than anyone, but I hope you will love him, even just a little, as you scroll through these pictures of a life lived to the full.
Frodo and pals heading off for a run up a forest track in the Highlands
Admiring the Kelpies, near Stirling
With Brian, at Plodda Falls
Wearing a cushion as a hat
Visiting the Fairy Pools on the Isle of Skye
At Glenfinnan, viewing the viaduct (seen in the Harry Potter movies)
And on the beach where Bonnie Prince Charlie landed
Inspecting the Hogwarts Express
In the car on the ferry to Skye
Leading Brian up the steep track to see the Old Man of Storr
Watching over the messy desk in my accounts office from a pencil drawing done by a client’s daughter
With his pal, Tubby, at one of the yards where I work
And another little friend at another yard
Supervising a lesson in the school at home
And swimming behind my horse when the bridleway flooded
On the beach at Oban (Scottish West Coast)
Inspecting the daffodils (in Sussex) that decided to surprise us all in January
Watching over me from my bedroom wall
And finally, alert for anything, in the Highland forest where he was happiest, and where I shall scatter his ashes to roam free on the breeze.
Sleep well, my precious. I shall miss you forever.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Debby. It’s always way too hard to say goodbye, and I always think, never again. But then I do. Because each one is special in its own way, and each will occupy a different place in my heart. And this little guy was certainly special. It shows all over him, and in your beautiful words. Sending you much love from across the pond, just so you know that even in Florida, someone is thinking about Frodo tonight, and wishing him a safe journey in the next world.
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Thanks Marcia.
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If we love them, we can know God loves them more. I’m sorry you had to say goodbye to your friend for a while. 😦
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Thanks Dale.
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My deepest condolences Deborah.
He was a good dog and you gave him Heaven on Earth.
You will always be loved, Frodo.
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Thanks Icky, he was a little star
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What a lovely tribute to a special friend. I shall miss seeing him with his friend Bindy when you give Elsbeth her lesson at my yard.Take care & cherish all those beautiful memories x
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Thanks Jan, I wish I’d taken the time to film Frodo and Bindy together, they were like an old married couple – so sweet.
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Deb, my heart goes out to you. Your most beautiful tribute to Frodo had me reaching for Kleenex. So yes, your farewell did touch my heart. I’m so sorry for your loss. I won’t pretend to know exactly how you feel, but I’m sending you healing hearts through the airwaves. He was loved and he knew it. One day when the timing is right, you will find another companion to bring you joy again. ❤
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Thank you Deb.
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Sorry to hear this Deborah, you must be devastated. I can’t have pets but I do know people who have them and know how they are loved and the heartache when they’re gone. It’s a pity you can’t have another one at the moment when you have so much love to give, hopefully it won’t be too long before you can.
Take care xx
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Thank you Kate.
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A beautiful post. Thank you. My dog Jack died at fifteen, my dog Chip at three. Both deaths to me were equally painful. I can see them still here and there as I look around the house, and think of the stories of them my wife and children tell. Chip could run like the wind and Jack nipped at people’s heels. Miss them
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Oh David, I know so well what you describe. I keep seeing Frodo out of the corner of my eye, or turning around in the car to reassure him I won’t be long. Memories are good, but nothing quite fills the gap they leave, does it?
Thanks for commenting.
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No, you’re right. Nothing fills the gap. The solace I find is knowing that I treated them both very lovingly and tried to take the best care I could of them.
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Yes, I’m consoling myself as much as I can with how much Frodo enjoyed his life.
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