Nothing Easy When Losing a Precious Pet

By John Cairns

YUNG SHUE WAN, Lamma Island, Hong Kong – Who would expect cats to grieve for the sudden death of a dog? It happened after the startling and unexpected demise of Gail, our family dog.

A faithful, gentle dog, Gail died abruptly at 12:20 a.m. on March 2. Suddenly she began to feel unwell, collapsed and passed away, all within remarkably few minutes. The situation turned deadly even before my wife and I could realize its seriousness and ended too quickly even to consult a veterinarian. Until then, Gail had behaved normally.

Middle-aged at most, Gail, a black-faced, brown mongrel (with German shepherd and mystery ancestry) still had several weeks to go before her eighth birthday. Even our six housecats miss her immensely.

Our family always has focused mainly on cats. Although technically not “dog-people”, we met Gail back in 2003 when she needed a home, then being a youngster in custody of the Lifelong Animal Protection charity. When I first shook her paw and looked into her almost-hypnotic eyes, I felt instantly captivated. Yet we hesitated for a week before adopting her, all the while wondering if a dog could cope with living in a house full of cats.

We began by telling Gail her “supreme” rule – always to treat cats with tolerance and kindness, which she did flawlessly. From day one, the cats played pranks on her – by swatting at her wagging tail or by racing across a room, leaping over the dog and then careening away. Whatever mischief the cats devised, Gail accepted it in good humor.

Soon we realized that most of the cats, despite their fun at Gail's expense, loved “their dog”, just like we did. For a long time, Gail held a special friendship with Lady, a memorable cat who entered our family after Gail did, but later died from a cancerous tumor. Soon after Lady's departure, a newcomer, a tiny kitten named Coy, gazed at Gail, also fell under the spell of those canine eyes and decided to make the “big dog” a special friend for life.

Later another cat, Flip, took an intense interest in Gail too, but for more selfish reasons. By chance, Flip discovered that the dog, with such a large, smooth tongue, could “kiss” superbly, or so he reckoned. Thereafter, he gladly would lick at Gail's snout hundreds of times non-stop on the chance that she might consent to lick his noggin back at least a few times, which she often did.

With Gail's suddenly lifeless body still warm on our living-room sofa, first Coy, and then Flip, reverently approached, hopped up beside her, took a close look and nuzzled at her snout once each. Then they departed across the room. For days after, Coy and Flip spent much of their time curled up together. No longer sharing a dog, they hold onto each other and the mutual memories.

Initially, Gail's death perplexed us. After all, she always had been healthy and active. Apparently that's no guarantee against obliteration by the first big health problem to come along.

During Gail's final moments, we noticed just one telling abnormality, a puffiness (bloating) of her belly. The next morning, Sally, our friend from the nearest veterinary clinic, came to take “the remains” to Central en route for cremation. She firmly believed that bloating had killed our dog.

Until then, I'd never heard much about such a problem in dogs, but it emerged as the best theory. Technically called gastric dilatation-volvulus (GDV) and with inexplicable, vague causes, it often involves swallowed air. Too much air, fluid and foam fill a dog's stomach, which bulges and twists, hampering blood flow and leading to shock, organ failures and a quick death, even within an hour. Allegedly, bloat kills more dogs than any other ailment except cancer. Yet many people, like me at the time, know little about it. The victims tend to be deep-chested dogs, like German shepherds, Great Danes, Dobermans and mongrel variations.

Had we telephoned Lamma Island's only veterinarian about Gail's midnight emergency, he might have tried to perform an urgent surgery. But time still would have expired. Very quickly, Gail deteriorated to a point that no veterinarian or anyone else could have saved her. She sprawled on the living-room sofa, gasping for air, her heart beating wildly. Recognizing the Grim Reaper's presence, I set aside all thoughts of veterinarians and simply held her.

Every time when a pet dies in my arms (previously always cats) it's something I'll remember for the rest of my days. While tightly holding Gail in her dying moments, my hand against her chest, I felt every beat of her wildly racing heart -- until the last one – and then no more. I knew exactly when her heart stopped beating, and that wasn't a happy moment.

At the time, I felt surprisingly calm. All the tears came later. How could I even imagine no longer having Gail as a sidekick, walking companion and loyal friend? Even yet, when I step out from my home office, I look toward the sofa where she usually stayed and ultimately died. Each time, there's a fresh jolt of regret: “Oh, she's not there.”

Quick departure may beat a long illness and lingering exit, but we definitely wanted to keep Gail with us for much longer. Yet as one of Gail's many human friends, a man now living in Slovenia, assured me by email: “When the sadness has diminished, almost all the memories will be good ones.”

Nice Memories

Pleasant memories from my lead role in Gail's life could fill hundreds of pages. What do I recall most fondly?

-- I'll never forget how Gail's eyebrows repeatedly lifted in surprise as one cat after another appeared the first time she came to our home. “What a cathouse!” she must have thought.

-- Together, we took 5,000-plus walks on Lamma Island. I enjoyed them all. Probably Gail did too. Seeing me reach for the bag that I always carried would start her prancing excitedly.

-- Many strolls took us to the Power Station Beach, where Gail frolicked with her friends, both human and canine. Gail introduced me to other dogs, among them her buddies GoGo, Mika, Quincy, Eric, Curly, Sadie, Smudge, Pocket, Bug, Laura, Fritzie, Dobbie, Ginger, Guapa, Snowie, Bianchino, Terry, Buddy, Tolley and others.

-- Rarely reluctant to wade into the ocean, even on cold days, Gail never once tried to swim. I reckon she had one big reason – not wanting to make me, her human and a hopeless non-swimmer, look bad.

-- Gail took the liberty of selecting many of my friends. The people I soon knew best lived and walked with her canine pals.

-- With a few glances from her soulful eyes or by extending a paw in camaraderie, Gail easily befriended people too. I often thought that my friends who invited us to weekend barbeque parties mainly wanted Gail's presence. At one party, I remember a visitor to Lamma pointing at Gail and saying to me: “That dog really focuses on you. I think you must know her well, huh?” As a matter of fact, I definitely did.

-- At every chance, Gail licked my face. When I sat on the sofa, she always hopped up too and leaned her head against my shoulder or knee. If I wanted to rub her belly, she liked that too.

-- Three times, Gail helped to lead hiking expeditions up Mount Stenhouse, the highest peak on Lamma Island. She never took a wrong turn.

-- If threatened by aggressive dogs, Gail always chose to flee, never to fight. She often detoured widely around “suspect” approaching dogs, even vanishing briefly into bushes or trees. Her constant caution earned my respect. I appreciated the absence of dog-fights and disputes.

-- For months, I wondered how Gail would react when we inevitably encountered snakes. Would she know that they posed a danger and keep away, or would she view them as writhing sticks, potential toys? In time, we passed many snakes, mostly cobras (poisonous) or rat snakes (harmless). Wisely, Gail shunned them all, and her evasive actions usually alerted me.

-- Gail enjoyed chasing balls or sticks. Like most Lamma dogs, she failed to master the concept of returning such objects.

-- When Gail needed to swallow a monthly pill as protection against heartworm, she never wanted it, but always co-operated as I pried open her mouth and placed the medicine deep into her throat. Her gentle demeanor and the worry in her eyes told of her big concern at those moments -- not to accidentally bite me.

-- Gail's diligence and faithfulness astonished me. She always wanted to obey my instructions, even when not fully understanding them, and never stopped trying. If I went anywhere, she wanted to go too. If I entered a building where dogs weren't allowed, she waited patiently outside. When I returned, her face showed the most unmistakable pleasure. Having a devoted dog felt so gratifying!

-- Every morning, I awakened and wandered downstairs. Usually, the first sound of a new day was the thump-thump of Gail's tail against the sofa cushions when she heard my footsteps. Who wouldn't love to start each day with such a fantastic drum-roll?

-- True to her home island, Gail spent her entire life on Lamma. Her only ferry ride into urban Hong Kong was as a corpse going for cremation. Her ashes returned to Lamma later the same day.

-- When other people talked of sending their dogs for obedience training, I could think of nothing about Gail's behavior that I wanted to change. Nearly every day she found ways to make me deeply proud to be her primary human, the one to whom she so respectfully looked for guidance.

After Gail died, I read a steady stream of nice things about her in email and on Facebook pages, stronger sentiments than many human deaths stir. Obviously, my gently charismatic dog could charm almost anyone.

Some of Gail's Human Friends React to Her Death

“I am very shocked and deeply, deeply saddened to hear the terrible news about Gail. She has been a joy to us all from the very first time we met the brightly colored puppy with the sparkly and yet sultry eyes. Darling Gail, we all love you and will miss you.”

“What a shock to hear your sad news. I wish that our dog and I could have seen you guys on the beach one last time. The only happiness I feel is that she will join some of her old friends.”

“I am so very, very sad and shocked to hear this. Beautiful Gail was a truly special girl and so much loved by all. She'll be sadly missed, and fondly remembered. I'm sending a special prayer for Gail.”

“Today I learned of Gail's death, and I am deeply saddened by her loss. I've rarely met such a gentle, beautiful being as Gail, and I find myself in tears as I write this.”

“I'm lost for words and miss her so much. I'm sure that our dog does too, especially the beach times. She'll be just fine on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.”

“Oh, no! What happened to Gail? Very sorry for your great loss! May Gail rest in peace.”

“I am so saddened about the bad news. It’s tragic and unpredictable.... May Gail rest in peace. She was a very gentle dog.”

“No words can describe how sorry I feel.... What a huge hole her going will leave in your life.... I'm glad you have the cats to rub against you and purr, but cats just don't have the same empathy. I guess the cats will miss Gail too.... The loss of a girl like Gail is as painful as losing any human for sure.”

“That's surprising and really sad news. She was one of Lamma Island's most famous and most popular dogs, such a gentle and friendly companion!”

“We are deeply touched and shocked by Gail’s death. We so much feel with you.... For us, Gail was a part of our life and friendship.... We will miss her.”

“We are so sorry that you lost dear Gail. She was such a good friend and companion. The cats also will miss her.”

“I’m so, so sorry. Lovely, gentle Gail. As with every passing of a loved one, it's always hard for the ones left behind.”

“How sorry I am! Life is so fragile! I am so very, very sorry that I am crying for her sudden death. You certainly will miss her. We also will miss her, and I am sure our dogs will too.”

“I am very sad reading your news about Gail and not in the least embarrassed to say that my eyes are welling as I write to you. Though our acquaintance with Gail was short, she touched our hearts.... She enriched your lives, and her memory will continue to do so. I will treasure the pictures of her, and especially one of me with her on your stairs during our visit last year.”

“I feel so sad and don't want to believe it. I know it is harsh. But there are a lot of things which we can't control.... Gail was a good dog and a nice one. She was friendly and lovely.... I liked her, and we were friends because we shook hands. I really wanted to meet her again and again! It is sad to know the cruel reality.... Actually, I miss Gail, and I'm gonna cry now...”