Merlin's last walk

Today we took Merlin for his last walk up the fell. Daddy Bear went to the vet to collect his ashes while I cooked us brunch, then we got the kids kitted out in 'getting muddy gear' and suitable footwear and we set off up the fell behind our house. It's part of the Pennine Way and we met a few hardy souls on the way up. The first part of the walk, the slog uphill, was accompanied by obligatory moaning and whingeing from the kids. We had to cajole and nearly bully them to press on past the sheep and cows (cows always freak me a bit when I've got the kids with me, especially if they have calves at foot as they do at this time of year). The livestock were very well-behaved though, and we managed the stiles and muddy, boggy bits with a minimum of fuss and made it to the top. It was breezy but warm on top of the fell, and the views as always were stunning. We stopped for a well-earned drink and some Hobnobs, and after that it was a lot easier to keep them going. We met a couple of guys with their lovely brown and white Border Collie and big sister told them all about what we were doing and pointed to Daddy Bear's backpack which contained Merlin's ashes. They were very sympathetic and I could see them sneaking glances at their own lovely pooch. I just know that they'll make the most of their dog while they have him.

As soon as our house came in sight we took the ashes out and checked the way the wind was blowing. As luck would have it the wind would carry Merlin down the fell in the direction of our house. Each of the kids had a handful or two, held it carefully then they let the ashes go as though they were setting a bird free. It really was a magical moment, and we said a silent 'Goodbye'. We saved some of the ashes for later in the walk and set off downhill to a little farm shop where the kids were rewarded with some melting moments biscuits. It was far from a sombre occasion, with plenty of laughter and horseplay, chatting to some piglets on the way. We headed for the bridge near the village and again the kids each had a handful to throw off the bridge. It didn't go quite so smoothly this time as there must have been an updraft from the river and the cars going past. Daddy Bear sprinkled Merlin over the edge and inevitably some of the ash came up to get us in the eye. Just Merlin's little joke. We laughed heartily and sent him on his way downstream. So now he'll always be there when we cross the bridge and walk along the river, and on top of the fell. And we saved some to bury in the garden so he'll always be here too. 

 I sometimes catch sight of him out of the corner of my eye while I'm busy around the house, and if I walk into a room I expect to see him lying there waiting for me, lifting his head to greet me. I find my memories of him outside are usually of his back end trotting off in front, as that was his favourite way. Following from the front, as I put it. When I popped into town I saw a familiar back end, another leggy, lean black Labrador. I thought it would make me sad to see another Labrador, but it doesn't. It's not Merlin. I don't begrudge anyone their lovely dogs. I just hope they'll always treasure them, as we did ours.

Merlin 1995-2009

Yesterday we lost a member of our family. He has shared and enriched our lives for the last thirteen and a half years. He brought love and laughter to all of us, and brightened our days with his calm and loving nature. He protected me throughout my pregnancies, often putting himself in between me and anyone who he considered might be a threat to me, despite being more firmly attached to Daddy Bear (well, *he* was the one who threw the ball for him), he welcomed all our babies to the family and helped them to grow, and was a constant source of support and companionship. Even in his last days he seemed to think more of us than of himself, which made our final heart-rending act of love so much easier to bear.

A year ago he suddenly found himself unable to do the things he loved. He couldn't even get out of our car to go on a walk with us. We discovered he'd been in pain for some time, but he'd carried on stoically, trying to do what he thought we wanted him to. His vertebrae had been slowly fusing, causing him immense pain. He was put on medication, which helped, but as his spine stiffened and his pain eased he was reduced to following us around the house and garden and occasionally going for short walks with us, but his discomfort was obvious. After all those years of looking after us, now it was our turn to look after him. He'd always hated being alone in the house, but now he was clearly telling us that he really didn't mind spending an afternoon on the sofa while we took the children out. He'd always welcome us home with a smile and a weary wag of his tail.

He'd been coping with his lot up until a couple of weeks ago, when his back legs began to falter. Due to muscle and nerve wastage his legs could no longer support him. In his customary way, he tried to carry on as he had always done, cheerfully, calmly, always eager to please. The vet suggested acupuncture, which we tried in the hope that it would give him some relief. He submitted to it in his trusting and unquestioning way, sensing, I hope, that we were trying to help. It was all too much for him though and after we'd made the agonising decision to have him put to sleep and booked an appointment at the vet for two days hence, he deteriorated so quickly. I honestly believe that if it had been within his power to take the decision out of our hands and slip away quietly in his sleep he would have done it. He was that kind of dog.

Two days ago he managed to walk almost all the way round our house without collapsing, and we spent a lovely evening indulging his newly-discovered liking for mature Gouda. He sat on the sofa between us and treated us to a few precious hours of happiness with him. In the morning he could barely lift his head, and couldn't even make it to the back door. He had to be helped outside for a wee and then carried indoors. He was telling us as clearly as he could that he'd had enough. As I said my last good bye to him before taking the children out so that Daddy Bear could take him to the vet, I kissed his head and his greying muzzle and told him how much we loved him and thanked him for being the best friend any family could have. He lifted his head and planted a wet smacker of a 'licky kiss' right on my face. A perfect gentleman right to the last.

I haven't been able to cry yet. I'm hoping the healing tears will come. I've been carrying on, supporting Daddy Bear and the kids through their grief. Strangely it hasn't felt like a huge effort on my part. I have been doing what I felt was my job. It helped me to get through it all knowing I was helping my family through the last difficult days. I will never forget my strong, beautiful, calm, wise, caring Merlin. He's going to be such a tough act to follow, and I will always be grateful to him for showing my children the meaning of selfless love. When we get his ashes we're going to take him to the top of the fell behind our house and let him fly free.