29 Mar Celebrating Flynn

Some of you will know, if you follow my Facebook Page, that I had to say goodbye to my beloved Flynn on Thursday. He had a large mass on his spleen and liver which had ruptured and the very difficult decision had to be taken to do the best thing for him.

It was honestly the hardest decision I have ever had to make.

He was ten – not young but also not really an old dog and yet in some respects he has always been an old dog, a solemn boy who, whilst he enjoyed life, also took his responsibilities as my friend and companion really quite seriously.

It can be so difficult when we lose our pet – for some people it can mean that they lose the only companion they have. Our pets form part of our heart – they sneak in there and embed themselves so deeply that they are always a part of us, and what an absolute blessing that is.

Their innocence, their vulnerability – it speaks to us in ways that people don’t.

Yet, it can be hard to grieve for a pet – sometimes we feel we shouldn’t, that we should be stronger, more ‘together’ and at other times it is because those people around us don’t really quite understand the depth of grief that we feel.

And so, I am drawn to share just a few memories, mostly early ones, of Flynn, to celebrate Flynn – his gorgeous energy, his beautiful solemnity. I know in my work with Spirit that our soul energy continues to move forward and yet the very aspect of a missing physical presence still causes immense pain and loss.

I hope that in sharing my words and my memories that you might also be drawn to share yours, if that is what your grieving process needs, if that is what your heart calls you to do.

Grief is always an expression of love. 

Flynn was a pup when I collected him – when I went to visit, there were three puppies, two gambolling about, rolling madly around and then Flynn, just sat solemnly watching and as soon as I walked into the room he just looked at me and never took his eyes off me. He was the one. He was the little boy that had to come home with me.

I remember house training him – I was crate training him and I used to stay up until about 1am in the morning and then get up at 5am so he only had to hold his pee in for a short while, gradually lengthening the time so that he could learn he could hold things in and I remember talking to him about anything and everything during the times I was staying up late and getting up early.

The first time he pee’d outside and I fussed him, he was like a little boy whose Christmas and Birthday’s had all come at once! It was only a few days after that that he was fully house trained- I think he was so excited that I was excited that it was just natural for him to want to have that excitement again!

He was the same with food – he was a vacuum cleaner (and I am sure that many of you know that feeling!). Not a day went by when he didn’t dance – and yes I DO mean dance – at breakfast and dinner time. He just LOVED his food.

Walks, food and me. That was all he needed. I know so many of you resonate with that. Plus the company of other dogs every now and then.

I used to visit a friend in Oldham regularly when Flynn was young – and I have never yet been over the that part of the world without it pouring with rain, is it ever dry there? We went somewhere quite beautiful and scenic, with lots of other dog walkers and Flynn was walk trained at this point so he was off the lead. I remember shouting ‘Flynnnnnniiiieeee’ – as you do, higher pitch than usual, calling him, all excited and buoyant.

My friend’s look could have stayed me there and then. Here were all these serious, very grown up dog walkers with very proper, well behaved dogs and then there was me, like a child in a sweet shop, calling my dog so we could run and jump. Seriously if the ground could have opened up, she’d have wished me in it! I think I was probably a bit less exuberant for the rest of that walk but I remember winking at Flynn and he knew.

Flynn was a really mucky dog. And I love clean. Hmmmm. He was into everything. I have a friend who has a schnauzer and his beard is always white. Flynn’s beard was ALWAYS brown, it should have been white but it only managed that for about two days after he’d been groomed. He was into every possible bit of muck he could find. And he if didn’t snuffle it he ate it; if he didn’t eat it, he rolled in it. You get the picture. He also dug up all the carnation bulbs once and ate them.

At the beach one year, he jumped through all the clay he could – he was caked! You have never seen such a sight.

He was just pure, young, total joy and un-coordination. He fell off a sun lounger because he couldn’t find his balance – I was on it with him or rather he was on me on the sun lounger and I just howled with laughter, he looked so affronted.

He loved sitting in the garden – he had a specific spot where he liked to sit because he could just see over the fence and onto the drive and road. He was always very correct in his sitting posture, just like a little general and I know he was taking his protector role very seriously.

He also really loved snow. He used to race around like a mad thing and on a walk, he’d come back with snow boots – all little round balls of snow that attached to the fur of his legs, it really was like little boots had been made of snow for him.

I don’t know about your pets but he would go for a walk no matter the weather. Ask him to go for a pee in the rain and you have no chance but get the lead out and he’s at the door before you’ve even gotten your coat on!

Flynn loved to go places – he’d get really excited at going in the car because he knew that we were going somewhere and that there was probably a) a walk involved and b) a treat involved. Walks and treats = the best thing ever!!

But he was a solemn and serious dog also – they have that way don’t they? That way of knowing that you are not quite yourself and that you need something; support, a friend, a caring hug. And he would come and just lift his paw for me to take…or lay his head on my lap, as he did at the end.

He got accidentally trimmed when he was younger rather than hand stripped and so he never really had the full wiry coat that schnauzers generally have; his fur was always soft and downy, just the right level of cuddle-ability.

George and I went on a narrow boat last year – I don’t think it was really Flynn’s ideal holiday: one evening he slid across the deck and dived into the water, belly first and feet flailing! At 10pm at night when it was pitch black. He really doesn’t like water so I panicked thinking ‘could he swim?’ Well he could and even as George was taking off his shoes to jump in if need be, his little face came around the bow and you could see the diligence in his face as he strived to swim toward me (I was on the bank, Flynn had been getting back on the boat after a walk when he slid off!) When he got out of the water and shook himself off he gave me such a look as though to say ‘how could you let me fall in? You’d better not mention this to anyone!’

And here I am, telling you. But I know he would be ok with that.

We have such a sense of responsibility to our pets don’t we? And yet I know they also feel a sense of responsibility to us.

What we never want to do is let them down. Especially when they are ill. We can’t express ourselves to them and be sure they understand, not in exactly the same way that we would to another human being. We have to trust in our hearts that they know how much we love them and that we would rather it were us being poorly than them. 

They’re such a beautiful gift to us, only here for such a short, treasured time.

There are so many animals in the world that we rescue and animals that need a home, that need rescuing. And yet I have always found that our animals rescue us actually.

Definitely, Flynn rescued me. He opened my heart when I wanted to close it. He helped me to be brave when I wanted to hide. And he made me live at a time when I really didn’t want to. That’s quite a responsibility really for such a small, brave boy, no matter how wide his shoulders or how loudly he could bark, and he did!

He carried his responsibility with grace, with humour and with great solemnity. And with the occasional mad moment of chaotic mayhem!

With grief, there’s a pain isn’t there? You feel it in your body and there’s a very vocal, guttural sound that comes with it. The pain resonates – different areas at different times yet there’s a moment, an indefinable moment where something, a spark, a breath, just sinks into your heart.

You feel it. It’s like you take a breath and that moment of the in-between breath energy just moves into that heart space.

And it cracks you wide open. It breaks you. The grief actually moves into you and it cracks open everything that you are.

When my grandmother died in 2017, I wrote a blog about the gift of grief. About the fact that grief, the power of grief, opens us up in a way that nothing else ever does, that nothing else ever could. It touches us in a way that no other emotion can and it calls to our very soul to move forward, to come into being. 

That’s the gift of grief and just as much so with our pets, with Flynn, as with any of our human loved ones. The hole they leave behind is immense – and I don’t think we are meant to fill it. Instead I think we are meant to allow that hole, so that other aspects of us can come more fully into being.

My Gran loved Flynn – she had dementia and I would visit her with Flynn when she was in the care home. She remembered him long after she had forgotten who me and my mum were. That’s the power of the love that our animals have.

Dear Flynn, my beloved boy, my absolute friend. My munchkin and flynn-bear. Thank you for being who you were, for being everything that you were. For making me laugh and making me cry, but most of all for opening me up to the incredible power and presence of your love.

I think the greatest tribute, the only tribute we can give them is to remember them always and to hold them in our heart. Perhaps that is what the moment is, that moment of something sinking into our heart – it is them; their memory, their heart, forever being enfolded in ours.

Much love x x