Dear Sweet Macy, home at last
I knew I couldn't take you from my mum permanently, because you two had become such close friends and she needed you. You kept her safe on her property, just as you had kept us safe as a family in suburbia - watching the back door, always protecting. But I always hoped too, one day, you could see what we were doing here at Gully Grove.
Before I got the call on Monday, that you weren't well, I was in the garden on Sunday, moving rocks. Something told me to start the second wall. I don't know why, as I didn't have the energy to start another rock wall. Yet I started to pull weeds to dig the trench nonetheless. By the end of that day on Sunday, I stood back and saw how close we were to the top. One more tier up, until we could start fencing the back of the house. I thought of you sweet Macy, we all did. But it was Sarah that mentioned your name first.
So how was it on Monday afternoon, we discovered you were so close to the end? Mum was upset over the phone, and I knew we had to come. David called work to let them know he wouldn't be in the next day, as we were going to collect you for your last visit to the vets. But Macy, your time had come. Within the hour we received another call. We were told you walked up to your favourite place in the world, your camp bed, and tried to get up. You didn't quite make it though. You fell asleep for the last time, beside it.
Mum lovingly placed you on your camp bed afterwards, wrapped you in your blanket, and we brought you home the next day.
Over an hour's drive away, when we made it down the last of our winding streets, I couldn't hold back the tears. I had imagined this day would come, the day you would see Gully Grove for the first time, but not like this...we tried girl, and I know you don't blame us.
Rest on, faithful friend
1999 - 2012
We buried you under the mulberry tree, with your camp bed. Your ear poking up in that way it always did. We cut off a lock of hair from each of us and buried it with you, along with some nasturtiums and mulberry leaves, which would be your companions at Gully Grove for ever more.
The sun that lit your grave at 2pm on Tuesday, the time we finally lay you to rest, came from the West. We had faced you to the east, so you could see the sun rise every morning, and hopefully touch some of the beauty we have seen here, every day. The sun passes through the tall gums in winter, and peppers the ground with light.
I visited your grave this morning, and saw the light had greeted you (as I'd hoped it would) because you always found the first patch of sun in the morning, to warm yourself with. How could we point you in any other direction?
We did get to see you that one last time, on Mother's day recently. You pushed your whole body into me (as you always did for a pat) you licked Dave's hand (as you always did for a scratch) and you covered Sarah in dog kisses, to hear her squeal in delight, as you always loved to make her do.
How is it, five years passed by so fast, and you were twelve and a half? Not a bad innings, but still hard to believe the part we loved most about you (your infallible heart) is what finally gave up in the end. Now, every time the mulberry leaves fall in late Autumn, we will remember your last journey home.
You are finally here, girl, and we love you.