Gill
Nordic Pine
This strange event happened almost a year ago. I’m aware that many here will be sceptical and I just hope they will remember their manners. I should also warn those who are grieving that this post might not be appropriate for them, although I hope it might provide some comfort. I’m really hesitant to tell this story.
I live in a small bungalow with my husband and our pet longcoat chihuahuas. At the time of this tale, which was last September, we had a total of four dogs. The eldest, Remus, was seventeen years old and his health was failing. The story really began on a Friday when I changed the bedding. I don’t normally do that on a Friday but the weather had been inclement all week and I decided to take advantage of a favourable forecast so I could get the washing on the line and dry it the same day. We have a bed with fitted sheets which are normally kept in the airing cupboard with the hot water tank.
The old dog’s health deteriorated significantly over the weekend and by Monday he could barely walk two steps without falling over. He had seen the vet a couple of weeks before and I had been told that although it would be possible to run tests on him, the chances were they would be inconclusive and there wasn’t much that could be done for such an old dog. There were tears in my eyes and my voice choked as I phoned the vet that Monday, knowing I would be taking Remus there for the last time.
We saw a new vet, not the one we saw regularly. She wasn’t supportive, telling us she could run more tests before we made such a momentous decision. I believed Remus had reached the end of the line and I recalled the advice given by our regular vet but this new vet made me doubt myself. She was silent as we said our final goodbyes.
It was a horrible experience and I began to doubt my decision. The next day I spoke out loud, asking that if it was at all possible, I’d like a sign before the end of the week that I’d made the right call and my little Remus was okay wherever he was.
The next morning I woke up in bed with an uncomfortable object under my leg. I reached down to see what it was but it was actually beneath the fitted sheet. When I got up and pulled back the sheet I found a thirteen amp electric fuse. I had no idea how it got there. I’d slept on the bed for five nights without feeling anything there. In any case, the bedding was never kept anywhere near where an electric fuse might be stored.
I’d asked for a sign and I believe it was given.
I live in a small bungalow with my husband and our pet longcoat chihuahuas. At the time of this tale, which was last September, we had a total of four dogs. The eldest, Remus, was seventeen years old and his health was failing. The story really began on a Friday when I changed the bedding. I don’t normally do that on a Friday but the weather had been inclement all week and I decided to take advantage of a favourable forecast so I could get the washing on the line and dry it the same day. We have a bed with fitted sheets which are normally kept in the airing cupboard with the hot water tank.
The old dog’s health deteriorated significantly over the weekend and by Monday he could barely walk two steps without falling over. He had seen the vet a couple of weeks before and I had been told that although it would be possible to run tests on him, the chances were they would be inconclusive and there wasn’t much that could be done for such an old dog. There were tears in my eyes and my voice choked as I phoned the vet that Monday, knowing I would be taking Remus there for the last time.
We saw a new vet, not the one we saw regularly. She wasn’t supportive, telling us she could run more tests before we made such a momentous decision. I believed Remus had reached the end of the line and I recalled the advice given by our regular vet but this new vet made me doubt myself. She was silent as we said our final goodbyes.
It was a horrible experience and I began to doubt my decision. The next day I spoke out loud, asking that if it was at all possible, I’d like a sign before the end of the week that I’d made the right call and my little Remus was okay wherever he was.
The next morning I woke up in bed with an uncomfortable object under my leg. I reached down to see what it was but it was actually beneath the fitted sheet. When I got up and pulled back the sheet I found a thirteen amp electric fuse. I had no idea how it got there. I’d slept on the bed for five nights without feeling anything there. In any case, the bedding was never kept anywhere near where an electric fuse might be stored.
I’d asked for a sign and I believe it was given.