This isn't an easy post to write, but I feel it is one that needs to be written. You see, this past Wednesday I received some bad news. My beeper went off with the message "please come to Reception" and when I got there, the receptionist on-duty told me that my parents were on the line. At this my heart sunk. My parents have never called the ship before. It's too expensive to call a US number from South Africa. It is in fact much cheaper for me to call them (which I do, quite regularly). And so even as I picked up the receiver I knew it was bad news. There was a great fear in my heart.
My Dad told me that my beloved Scruffy-dog had died that day. I headed back to my cabin shell-shocked and in tears and called my family right back, to find out the details. It was very sudden. Tuesday night she was breathing rather deeply and my parents set an appointment with the Blue Cross (our local veterinary clinic) for 11h00 Wednesday morning. By the time Wednesday came around Scruffs was very apathetic, not wanting to move from her spot under the table, and at around 10h30 she let out a sound which my Dad described as the "sound of death itself". She didn't die then, but held on as he carried her into the car and drove to the Blue Cross. But by the time they reached the vet (a mere ten minute drive away) she had passed on. The doctor reckoned her lungs had given way. This news floored me.Throughout this convers
ation I was in tears, wanting answers. Why? Why? WHY? And I don't know why. As it says in Job, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. God gave us Scruffy to look after and love for her life - which is what we did. Although the shock is great to us, I do know that I would have rather had her died suddenly and painlessly than lingered through some tragic illness. Now that the initial grief is over, I am able to remember the good times I had over the past eleven years with my lovely Scottish Beardie/Old English Sheepdog cross.But there was so mu
I'll miss you so much my Scruffy-dog.
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