This Monday we put our almost fourteen year old pet Kelpie cross, Jet dog to sleep. Despite gradually watching his chin hairs and eyebrows turn grey. His back legs stiffen with old age, and his hearing deteriorate we weren’t ready for the sudden loss. Signs of sickness kicked us all in the guts on Friday morning.

As I was getting dressed for the day Lara (5), Olivia (4) and our almost twelve year old pet Labrador Baxter came running up the hall to tell me that something was wrong. The tone in Mark’s voice when he yelled for me from the kitchen made my heart sink.

When I walked in the kitchen to see my fur baby sprawled out on the floor, with huge amounts of saliva coming from his mouth. It instantly hit me that my daughters weren’t exaggerating. Both our dogs knew that Jet was in serious trouble.

I took Jet in my arms, and gave him the biggest hug as he shook in my arms and looked at me with the most worried face I have ever seen. He knew he was stuffed. We all checked him over for a tick. Hoping that all we needed to do was find it, freeze it off as soon as possible. Then Jet would be able to recover, with our trusty vet taking care of him.

There was no tick. Blood tests showed a rise in platelets that could have been a response to some type of poison. For the life of us we couldn’t find or think of what that could have been. After the high dose of steroids on Friday, and his slow but steady decline in health over the weekend, a brain tumor was suspected.

Jet wasn’t my pet, he was my fur baby. At the tender age of twenty two my ovaries kicked into gear, and I was ready to be a Mum. But I certainly wasn’t ready to have a child. So, I looked into adopting a rescue puppy, preferably one from a litter.

When I went and met Jet’s litter, he chose me. All the other puppies were running around, exploring the front yard of their foster home. Jet just kept coming back and sitting in my lap. That was it, from then on we were best friends.

He slept next to my bed, and followed me everywhere. My little sister would laugh and tell me that he was a pet dog, not a baby. I would take him with me wherever I could. But this built an incredible bond, one where we communicated with hand signals and looks.

A few years on and I moved out of home, at which point Jet would occasionally stay at home by himself when I couldn’t sneak him in to uni. Until we got him a Labrador to play with; Baxter. The second they met, Jet looked at me and said “thank you Mum”. The two of them were inseparable ever since. As I write this, I believe Baxter is crying for his Jet dog. He hasn’t known life without Jet.

Together Jet and Baxter were the most amazing dogs. To be fare, Baxter is a kind hearted boof-head, and Jet was always the loving brain-source. Anyone who spent time with Jet would say what an amazing dog he was.

Jet certainly was someone special. He went from sleeping in my bedroom, to the lounge-room, to outside (thanks to his boof-headed brother’s midnight pantry antics). For his last few months he was back sleeping in the lounge-room on a nice comfy bed. He was always woken up by Livs and I going and giving him a good morning pat. Jet took all of those changes in his stride, without any protest.

He went from being my only baby, to being pushed down the ladder by two children under two. He loved them unconditionally. Even if sometimes he would look at me to say “Mum, can you please stop Livs from giving me a ‘health-check’?”.

After a high dose of steroids on Friday Jet came home, and we all had lots of cuddles with him. On Sunday night, I got myself comfy on the lounge, and placed Jet dog on my chest. He went to sleep there, and had his first proper sleep in days. When he did wake up, he looked up at me with so much love in his eyes, and kissed my nose. We knew we were saying goodbye.

When we woke up on Monday morning, Jet was worse, so the girls, Baxter and Mark all said goodbye to him. I took him to the vets to do the kindest thing possible. Our friend at Belrose Veterinary Hospital, gently spoke to Jet as he gave him the ‘green dream’ and I stroked his forehead. It was quick, and painless. Jet didn’t suffer. He led a good life, with lots of crazy people who loved him.

Right now I can picture Jetty rolling around on the grass in the backyard. Enjoying the sunshine as I play in the veggie garden, occasionally throwing him the odd tomato, or what ever else was in season.

We were lucky to have such a loving, gentle soul in our lives. Instead of trying to convince myself that I shouldn’t be grieving so much over a dog, I am going to give myself permission to feel all these big feelings. Because in the end, Jet taught me how to be a mum, and Lara and Olivia think I’m a pretty good one most of the time.

I had no idea that one week before when I took this photo it would the last one of the four of them together.

Our pets rely on us to look after them throughout their lives. They also rely on us to make the most difficult, selfless choice at the end of their lives. That choice is a gift.

In feeling grief for the huge hole that is left where my fur-baby used to be. I’ve had to also not feel guilty for being so upset by the loss of a pet. They are family members, and we need to let ourselves grieve accordingly.

I’ve acknowledged the fact that I don’t know how to behave. I don’t know what to say to someone when they have lost a loved one, so I went looking for guidance. This podcast helped me process the feelings I’m feeling right now. It also taught me that my “I’m so sorry for your loss, I don’t know what to say”, and a hug is the perfect support for someone experiencing loss.

The podcast Death: Love, grief and hope is worth a listen. My favourite quote comes from one of the guests “you can chose to turn the shit in to fertiliser”, it seemed rather fitting.

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