Trigger Warning: This page will not be for everyone.
Losing a dear companion is incredibly painful; some of you may wonder why in the world anyone would want to document it in a painting. It is one of life’s most bittersweet moments; there is nothing so well loved as in the moment when you realize it is about to be gone forever.
Anyone who has been through this experience will tell you how important and precious it was that they were with their friend as they passed over. Vets will tell you the animal looks for its “person” until the very last moment. Being with them to the end is the last gift we give to them.
Those who adopt seniors or hospice animals know that this moment will come and resolve to make it as loving and peaceful as possible for an animal whose life may have been anything but. Those who keep their animals until the very end do as well. And yes, it comes at a cost.
We all live with the hope and certainty that one day, on the other side, we will be united with all those we loved and lost, our animals included. Until then, we mourn their loss from our lives and remember them.
This page is a tribute to “The Last Gift” which contains both great pain and great hope.
Please understand that I have not edited these stories; some are quite long and the formatting on the page suffers. However, I believe it to be a worthwhile tradeoff.
“Jen and Finley”
“Joe and Yil”
“Eyes are a key point of any painting of a dog. But when I started this painting I immediately realized that the light was leaving Yil’s eyes; the story here wasn’t about her. It was about the pain Joe was feeling as he let her go. His face was where I needed to concentrate; the pain in his face was the story I was painting.
I spent a good deal of the time in or near tears as I painted this one; anyone who has lost their companion can relate. Many people who saw it in person had the same reaction.
This painting means even more now, as Joe, too, is gone.
I am sure Yil was there to greet him along with the many other dogs he loved and animals he saved.
Anyone who knew Joe will never forget him. Until we meet again, dear friend…” Laurie P
“I wasn’t expecting to say goodbye to Jak that day. A couple of days before, Jak started having some difficulties…he had great trouble trying to get up and was wobbly. I called the vet and they said bring him in; they could find nothing wrong…I thought maybe xray but no..I.took him home. I had a photo shoot scheduled with my local doggie food bakery store also that week and the picture for the painting I am sending is of that day…he turned around and kissed me.
But, I had him back again to the vet; after this visit, we could see it was his spleen and he had cancer. I could have taken him home that day and gone through the same routine of him filling with blood in his tummy and then his body absorbing it back again, but I couldn’t do that to him…He was only 13…I wasn’t expecting to say goodbye to Jak that day or for this to be my last photo of us. ” Sue M.
The photograph, taken by our beautiful friend Linda, then turned into the most incredible painting by Laurie, encapsulates the rescue, more than anything I could put into words. Those of you that have followed GHSDR for awhile, like 2016 when Stuey came into our hearts, know what this dog meant to me. To the rescue. To those lucky enough to have met him. He was, quite simply, my heartbeat and still is to this day. As well as our vet, Blake, who Stuey loved beyond measure. He came with a myriad of issues, none of them good. Long story short, Stuey had a surgery on a ruptured tumor. Did we want to do surgery on a dog so unstable-nope. Was there a choice? Nope. Stuey had the surgery, but suffered a seizure during his recovery and just remained in a sort of fugue state. For four days, he’d spend his days with Blake, at his feet, in the clinic, and I’d bring him home every night. We wanted eyes on him 24/7. On that fourth day, Blake made that suggestion none of us wants to hear, and I declined, and wanted to keep trying. That night as I lay with my baby boy, praying, crying, screaming for him to come back to us, he opened his eyes one last time, looked into my soul, and took his last breath. I’ve never been the same and never will. Something just broke inside me, and in honor of this courageous dog, the rescue path became hospice/special needs/dying seniors. With a heavy emphasis on the border collie breed. Since that day, every single dog I’ve rescued, has been in honor, and in memory, of my greatest dog, Stuey. Love you always Stuey Magoo, and cannot wait to see you again