and Afterwards...

It has been a while since my last entry and I apologise. In the 4 weeks since Bomber died, I've found it difficult to focus let alone write about him without becoming incredibly sad even though we've just had a magnitude 7.8 quake and flooding. In fact about the only thing missing at the moment is a plague of locusts and the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

The funny thing is that the support we've received from friends has been nothing short of incredible.

This contrasts so markedly from a few years back when Ally, our little black cat died. At work I was sad and when asked why, was shocked at how many people said "ah well, it's just a cat". They amazingly expected that to make me feel better.

It didn't

In fact it simply made me want to punch them in their insensitive smug idiotic faces - I didn't of course (but it was ever so tempting).

With Bombers passing, things could not have been any more different.

When we got home with Bombers body to bury him, there were flowers on our doorstep. That was just the beginning. Friends from the greyhound collective on facebook banded together to create a photo-book of him, and we've had more flowers. My family and my sisters in-laws both donated to Greyhounds as pets and sent us a beautiful block mounted canvas print of Bomber and Lottie cuddled up on the sofa together.

Not long after this a delegation of greyhound owning friends popped over with a tree and lots of food. It was wonderful. More recently we received a lovely picture of Bombie in his bathtub (he had a habit of hopping in water troughs and old bath tubs being used as water troughs. We called him Bombie the fish because of this) from the amazingly talented Elizabeth Dodds. I was so choked up with emotion when I got this picture I was literally lost for words and couldn't speak.

The thing is words cannot express how much all this kindness has meant to us.

Being surrounded by people who actually get just how painful it is to lose a much loved pet has really helped a lot. It has been humbling and has shown us just how amazing our friends and family are.

Family aside, my saint-like wife has been incredible. it has been tough for her and we've both cried rivers. Lottie has been sad and a lot quieter. Not a day doesn't go by without her, Lottie or I feeling incredibly sad. I guess that oft used cliche of "time heals all" must apply.

I know this is perhaps the shortest blog post I've written in a while, but I want to say use it to say a huge thank-you to everyone for their kind words, support for just being so understanding. It means a lot to us and I hope that somehow we can repay all the kindness, sensitivity and consideration that all these lovely people have shown us.

Guy Fawkes Mayhem - AGAIN

I started this blog to keep a record of my hounds. What has proved interesting are the themes that keep emerging again and again. One topic that pops up at the same time each year is Guy Fawkes.

For non commonwealth citizens the term Guy Fawkes probably has no meaning. To put it into context, Guy Fawkes was a member of a small number of people who tried to blow up the UK parliament in the gunpowder conspiracy.

Bizarrely we celebrate this act of terrorism each year. Even more bizarrely we celebrate it by paying over the odds for increasingly dire fireworks (they seem to get smaller and more pathetic every year despite costing more each year). In essence we celebrate an act of terrorism by burning money. How loopy is that??

If that doesn't make you question the sanity of the average New Zealander, our unwillingness to ban the sale of fireworks to private individuals should at least leave you scratching your head and wondering.

Some argue that it is their "right" to have fun letting off fireworks. These idiots seem to be oblivious to the huge amount of damage caused by fireworks and the bill that they as taxpayers have to foot so they can have their "fun".

Perhaps most upsetting of all are the stories of terrified animals who've been horrifically maimed or died as a result of fireworks. Things have got so bad that this year the veterinary association and Wellington SPCA have backed calls for a total ban on the sale of fireworks.

Hell Pizza's usual lack of good sense and taste means they're delivering fireworks to peoples doors. I urge you not to buy any pizzas from these idiots (the packaging their pizzas arrive in are usually more tasty than their pizzas anyhow) and to register your displeasure on their website.

Sadly the madness that is Guy Fawkes will again this year as our politicians lack the guts to enact a ban on sales of fireworks to private individuals.

Here's a few pointers to help you should your hounds be stressed by fireworks.

1) Thundershirts - these swaddle the hound and really can work wonders calming them... they're a great investment if your hound goes to pieces on fireworks night.

2) Environment - make sure your hound is inside, and pull the curtains. Also play some music or turn on the TV to drown out the noise of fireworks

3) Vet - there are also a pile of great options available from your vet to calm your hounds. Visiting your vet for advice may yeild some surprisingly useful tips. Many vets will also prescribe low level tranquilisers that are safe for greyhounds and can help take the edge off their stress.

4) Prepare for the unthinkable - sometimes even with all the planning in the world, things can go wrong. Get an identity disk on your hounds collar along with its rego tags. Should your hound somehow get outside and freak out, the disk could help rescuers reunite you with your hound.

5) Sign any petitions you can and support a ban.

The Unspoken Contract

When we adopt a pet our thoughts are filled with the practicalities of feeding, where they'll sleep and so on. Little thought is given to an unspoken yet vitally important part of owning a pet. I call this the unspoken contact and it is works like this:

When you adopt a pet, your obligations are:

• To give it as good a life as possible
• To ensure that it is physically and mentally nurtured and cared for and protected
• Making sure it knows that it is loved

The unspoken part of this contract is one most of us dont want to contemplate:

What are our responsibilities to our pet at the end of their life?

Having just been there, I can't emphasise strongly enough just how important this really is. You really need to think this through.

Short of natural death or death from injury, Most pets succumb to illness. How you choose to act at this stage will play a big role in how you feel about your relationship with your pet for the rest of your life. Most important of all, it'll also dictate how your pet lives and how its life ends.

When faced with a terminally ill pet, the plain truth of the matter is that there are no good options.

If you try to prolong their life they may suffer end up enduring a lot more pain that leads to an agonising death.

It goes without saying that this is a breach of your contractual obligations to your pet.

The question you most need to ask yourself in such a dire situation is this:

Are you prolonging your pets life for your own needs or for your pets?

If you are in this terrible situation you really need to have a frank discussion with your vet.

By now you'll be feeling as if the ground has gone out from under your feet. The pain and conflict you'll feel at this stage is intense beyond description. I cant put into words what you'll be feeling right now.

This might sound crazily difficult (trust me it is). but you'll need to set aside the emotional typhoon swirling around in your head to ask your vet these questions -

• Is your Pet in any pain and discomfort? 
• Is the prognosis is terminal? 
• Are there any treatment options that'll save your pet and give them a decent quality of life?

If the answer to these questions are yes the illness is terminal, yes they are in pain, and no their quality of life will see them stuck in a cage and drugged to near senselessness until they die, then there really is only one option.

Trouble is that this option requires that you set aside your own pain, feelings of loss and guilt and let your pet go. They must come first and you have to be strong enough to end their suffering.

This is your obligation to them. Your needs shouldnt énter the picture and this is likely to be one of the hardest (yet selfless) decisions you'll ever have to make.

Ending the life of a much loved pet runs counter to nearly every instinct you're likely to have. Looking into their eyes knowing that you have to say goodbye forever is not something I'd wish on anyone.

This said, you also need to remember your responsibility to your pet. Namely that you need to ensure they suffer as little as possible and leave this world knowing that you love them and that they were the best thing that ever happened to you.

We just went through this with Bomber, our much loved black greyhound.

There was no good choices available to us and we put him to sleep.

It was my responsibility as his owner.

He was my dog and I made sure that he knew how much he was loved before he passed.

I bought Bombers body home and buried him. He was my dog and laying him to rest with as much love and dignity as possible was the very least I could do.

I'd be lying if I said that I am not hurting (I am horribly) and that I am not wracked with feelings of guilt at ending his life ( I am). I do however know that this was my only real choice as Bombers illness was terminal and he was in an incredible amount of pain.

So please when you adopt or when you are next cuddled up to your pet, please contemplate the unspoken contract you have with them. Doing so might help a little should you ever be faced with such a horrible situation.

RIP Bomber (Lochinvar Elle)

died aged 6.5 years

We love you and miss you Bomber

Saying Good-bye

The last 4 days have been some of the worst of my life.

On Monday morning at 3am my wife awoke to Bomber (a.k.a Tinklebert Woofledink) crying in pain. She went in to see what was the matter (he often sleeps in the spare room) and he was standing, not wanting to sit and trembling with pain.

Fearing bloat (an often fatal condition which sees internal organs twist), we rush him to the emergency vet. To our relief bloat was ruled out and the vet said maybe it was pancreatitis (which dogs sometimes get). Pain medication and antibiotics were administered and we were told to take Bomber to our regular vet if there was no improvement by the morning.

Bomber came home and initially would not lie down in the bed, instead trembling in pain. Eventually he was so exhausted he lay down and dozed. There was no improvement in the morning and we took him to our vet.

Feeling a sense of dread we waited for the call from our vet. When it came the news was devastating. Xrays had revealed a large mass and it was putting pressure on his other internal organs. The vet suggested that if money were no object (when it comes to either hound money is no problem - I'd have donated kidneys to help), we should take Bomber to Massey University Veterinary Hospital, it is the best in New Zealand. It was a two hour drive and we didn't hesitate.

Dropping Bomber off we checked into a hotel and went in search of breakfast/lunch. At a cafe, Massey called and the ground fell away from my feet.

The mass inside bomber was fluid - blood. X-Rays had revealed tumors and that cancer had spread - there were a lot of them, many were well developed. The prognosis was about as bad as it gets. We were told get back to the vet hospital as soon as possible.

Arriving at Massey, Sophie the vet (who was nothing short of amazing) explained the options - there really weren't any. If they operated to drain the blood he'd just bleed more and the operation would probably kill him given his weakened condition. Even if he survived the operation, he'd probably only live for a few more pain filled weeks.

There really was only one option. I just couldn't face it. Bomber had to be put to sleep.

No words can describe the dilemma we were faced with. There were no survivable options and the only choices we had were to end Bombers life or to see him suffer until he died.

Sophie allowed us to sit with Bomber for as long as we liked. I patted him, told him I loved him and that he was a good dog. By now he was in such pain that they'd had to administer methadone, synthetic heroin. I'm not sure Bomber heard what we said but we said it anyway.

In the end I called a good friend and fellow greyhound owner who'd also been through this and spoke to her. I probably didn't make a lot of sense, I was a shell-shocked blubbering mess. Her advice really helped. We needed to let Bomber go and end his suffering. It was the only right choice there was.

I didn't know what time it was but an hour or so later we put Bomber to sleep and he gently passed.

Before he was put to sleep I reminded him that I loved him and that he was an amazing dog. I asked him to wait for me and when I die I'll look for him at the rainbow bridge.

Bomber was only six and a half years old, he should have had many more years sharing a sofa, mooching treats and going for walks.

I've cried a river and have not stopped. The grief of losing Bomber isnt 'just emotional, it is a very real physical pain. Everything hurts

Now we have a huge black greyhound sized hole in our lives and the house feels incredibly empty. There are many things that catch us and cause a tears to flow. My love for him has and never will cease. Rest in peace Bombie boy we love you so much.