Six weeks ago my world tilted off balance. It still doesn’t feel righted, and I don’t think it ever will.

It was an ordinary day. An ordinary Monday. Love Bug was doing a violin lesson by Zoom, I was getting dinner ready so that I could get to the airport to pick up my mumma from a long haul flight. A little before 6pm Beary wandered into the kitchen. I thought to myself he’s late with the dinner reminder tonight and had a little giggle.

Then I looked at him and realised he had a look of concern on his face. Not his usual concerned look when he thinks I may have – after more than 14 years together – finally forgotten that any time after 5pm is dinner time; rather a far away concerned look. Then, without any of the notice a dog mumma usually gets when your dog is about to be sick, he did the most enormous vomit. His big beautiful face tilted slightly, he wobbled over to his orthopedic bed and collapsed into it. Then his body evacuated anything that was left in his belly. He looked apologetically at me with his head tilted 45 degrees. I was already on the phone to the vet as I began to clean him up. My heart started to crack.

The vet nurse suggested bringing him in. I couldn’t move him, and he couldn’t move himself. I ran next door and asked through tears for my neighbour to come and help me carry him to the car. Between my neighbour, her husband and I, we could still get him no further than half way across the loungeroom. He was heavy and totally floppy. I called the vet clinic again. Thankfully, our lovely vet {who has been Beary’s vet since he was 6 months old} was still at the surgery and about to head home so offered to come straight to us.

When he arrived, he confirmed that Beary had experienced a geriatric vestibular event. Vestibular systems are located in the middle ear and keep us balanced. Drooling, rapid eye movement, head tilting, stumbling, lack of coordination are some of the symptoms. It comes on rapidly , can worsen over the first couple of days, then {depending on the underlying cause} most dogs recover over the next few weeks. Our vet gave Beary a shot for the nausea/vertigo, said he hoped to see some improvement in 48 hours but that he’d pop back in the following night.

I asked a friend to come stay with him and Love Bug while I went to pick up my mumma and take her home. I raced home again, then slept on the loungeroom floor beside Beary. Sleep is probably a bit of an overexaggeration. I lay beside him telling him how much I loved him and willing him to show some signs of improvement as soon as he had the strength.

Tuesday came and there were no signs. He couldn’t get up. I couldn’t carry him. He stopped eating, other than a crumb here or there. But he was still drinking and trying to move. His front legs wanted to push up, but his back legs were having none of it. It was the first 24 hours, I told myself. Worse before it gets better.

I made a big bed of all the comforters we have in the house, got puppy pee pads and turned our loungeroom into a hangout/sleepout zone. Love Bug went to school on Tuesday, Harry and I stayed close to Beary. Our vet came by in the afternoon and helped me carry him out to toilet, but not much happened. He administered another shot for the nausea and said he’d call me Wednesday morning.

Next morning there was still no change. Beary is almost 15. He has been having specialist pain treatment as well as his regular vet treatments for severe arthritis in his spine, back hips and front elbows for 18 months. The back half of him wasn’t moving.

I had the difficult and honest conversation with our vet. He said he could take Beary to the clinic and put him on a drip for 24-48 hours to see if that made a difference. But if it didn’t, we were looking at saying our final goodnight. I asked what he’d do if Beary were his dog. I knew what his answer was before he spoke. Keep him home, keep him comfortable, give him as much love as you can over the next couple of days then say goodbye at home. Where he’s calm and it’s quiet. So it was decided.

The part of my heart walking around outside my body with 4 legs and the flooffiest of tails you ever did see, was to be with me for mere hours more. Those cracks that appeared on Monday, started to rip right open. I asked him to show me a sign that I’d made the right decision. A few hours later as I was staring at his beautiful face, trying to commit every fur to memory, I saw in his eyes how tired he was. Tired of trying to fight to stay. That was my sign.

Friends came to visit. To say their goodbyes. To have their final cuddles and thank Beary for being such an incredible friend. Love Bug stayed home from school. We all stayed close. My mumma came to be with us. My sister and brother in law FaceTimed from London.

Our friend Polly came to take some beautiful photos, including these. The last time Beary moved of his own accord was to push himself up to sit for the photos, then he put his big beautiful paws in my lap for the photo on the left. I can still feel his weight leaning into me.

His last day was filled with love. I had bought him some Swiss chocolate to have as his last snack, but totally forgot about it in the moment. Fittingly, the last thing he ate was the crunchy end of a croissant. Croissants were always his favourite snack.

His final moments and his passing from this plane were peaceful and filled with love. As he took his final breaths his top lip puffed out and caught on his paw, where his head was resting. So his final face was a goofy Beary face to make us all smile through our tears.

To care for my precious Beary at home for those four days was both utterly heartbreaking and an exceptional privilege. To do everything I could for him was the greatest honour. It seems almost inconsequential compared to the love and strength he gave me every single day.

Sweet dreams my precious friend. Run and play now with Bella and Barker. I’m sure your grandpa is happy for the company.

Edward Bear | 1 December 2008 – 25 August 2023