Goodbye, Homily

Regular readers to the blog might know that my husband James is the son of a Norwich Terrier breeder, and we were given one of our own after we got together, around 12 years ago. 

Homily; our walking teddy bear, who was adorably stupid unless food was involved – in which case she was as cunning as a fox on IQ enhancing drugs.

I say “was” not “is” because last week we had to say goodbye to our good dog. I spent most of the day spontaneously bursting into tears, I must admit. 

It didn’t help that I’d only been home from hospital for a few days, still felt pretty damn awful, and it was my first day without James working from home so he could be there to help me out a little.

Telling the children when they came home from school was the worst thing ever. Homily was part of our family before they were – they’ve never had a life without the fluffy dog – and for Georgie in particular it was really upsetting to understand she was dead. Put to “forever sleep” because it wasn’t fair to keep her alive and in pain. 

We knew it was coming, but that doesn’t make it much easier. She had a good long life of over 14 years, and we adopted Gypsy earlier this year as our “overlap dog” partly so that the kids would find it easier when the worst did happen. They’ve told me they are so pleased we have her so that helped, as callous as it sounds. Gypsy is not a replacement by any means, and has a totally different character – but they girls still have a canine companion to fuss… and boy does Gypsy love fuss. A lot of fuss.

Homily had been slowing down for months, having some breathing issues because of a constantly runny nose, and was unable to get down the stairs on her own any more. She had a few courses of antibiotics and was on painkillers for her ageing joints, but when she started having moments of true distress and didn’t even make it back to her bed after getting a drink in the night we knew it would be cruel to prolong things any more. 

We got the girls to give her a cuddle before school, just in case, and I snuggled on the bed with her for a bit before James called his mum, who is a vet as well as a breeder. James took Homily over to her house and she agreed that it was time, and kindly organised it all for us with a fellow vet, so James could get to work.

Although I miss my furbaby immensely, I think in a way I missed her before she was even gone. It’s been quite a few months since she joined us on a walk, preferring to potter slowly around the front lawn for a bit on her own instead. Once she used to follow me faithfully around the house all day, but the last month or so she has pretty much stayed on her bed in our bedroom or in my office and not even raised her head if I left the room. Homily was very much an old dear of a dog by the end; content to sleep all day, have the odd cuddle, and only show any enthusiasm or energy when food was involved. Her greed is one thing that never changed!

Homily was the definition of loyal. The girls found it hilarious that although she was technically a present for James, Homily loved me best of all. She used to wait by the door if I left the house and everyone else was home, and was always happiest if she was wherever I was – to the lengths of following me to the bathroom constantly and requiring beds to be placed in all the rooms I spent significant time in. Before she got too old to get down from it, she used to sleep on the bed curled up by my legs, and if I sat down somewhere she’d often lay down on my feet for a power nap so I couldn’t move without waking her.

With the girls, Homily was endlessly patient and gentle. She allowed them to carry her around, cuddle and play with her, and even (during the toddler years) tug on her fur or tail, or try her out as a ride on toy! They could put their hands in her mouth and she would do everything she could to avoid biting or hurting them. 

Homily was totally daft, but utterly loveable. It wasn’t at all unusual for walks to be punctuated with children asking to say hello and give her a stroke, and she even won over quite a few people who don’t generally like dogs. 

Goodbye, my sweet girl.