Peppa was a stumpy-tailed cattle dog/Smithfield x terrier who we adopted from the RSPCA on January 2, 2003. She had been found wandering the streets of Dakabin, taken to the pound and then sent on to the RSPCA when nobody claimed her.
Having grown up in the country, we had always had dogs. But on moving to Brisbane in the early 2000’s it was impossible to find a place to rent that would allow pets.
At the end of 2002, Heather and I found ourselves living together in accommodation which allowed pets.
So off we went to the RSPCA to find a dog. The RSPCA site was in Fairfield back then. There was a paddock with a few horses and an area with rows of cement and wire kennels with dogs and cats. We walked up and down the rows of kennels seeing only blue heeler pups. They are wonderful dogs, but it wasn’t what Heather and I were looking for.
We had talked about getting a small dog. Something Jack Russell sized. We knew our chances were slim as the majority of dogs that are surrendered to the pound are working cattle dog types. High energy animals who need a lot of exercise and stimulation or they get bored.
So, kennel after kennel we passed; black, white and grey cattle dog puppies.
We get to a kennel where a little dog is sleeping, its back end facing us. It had the same black, white and greyish colouring of a blue heeler. “Another cattle dog puppy” we said. But then the little scamp lifted its head and looked at us. And there we saw the sweetest little face with ears still floppy with youth, and, oh my gosh, the cutest little terrier beard!
We asked to have a closer look. The RSCPA attendant retrieved her from her kennel and handed her to Heather. She had been quiet and docile in the attendant’s arms but when she got into Heather’s arms, she became highly excited and animated. Excitedly licking her all over the face, wiggling and making little happy noises. Then when handed to me, she did the same. It was if she was saying. “Finally, you’re here. What took you guys so long, I’ve been waiting ages”.
So that’s how Peppa came to live with us.
We quickly discovered she was ball crazy, playful, loving and very patient. She was the sweetest dog with the sweetest nature. If you picked up a ball or anything resembling a ball (like an orange) she’d prick up her ears and come stand in front of you, one foot forward, and dropping her body low ready to sprint after the object. If you were blowing bubbles, she loved to jump and catch the bubbles, her little jaws snapping away.
We also discovered that she had separation anxiety and a Houdini-esque power to escape.
Sometime, in the very early days of her coming to live with us, we went out for the evening and left Peppa outside, with the gate securely locked. When we got back, she was nowhere to be found. Our older sister and a neighbour drove around the neighbourhood looking for her while I stayed home. I sat on the front stairs with my head in my hands begging and pleading with the universe to bring her home. The next thing, I hear the skittering of tiny feet and looked up to see her trotting through the gate with a big smile, wiggling (with not much of a tail on her, a tail wag resulted in a full body wiggle) and leaping around, “I found you Mum”.
No sooner did we block up one escape route and she would find another. We put bricks along the bottom of the fence to stop her wiggling and digging under it. This stopped her for a while but then she started getting out again. We discovered that she was managing to squeeze herself through the gaps in the front gate. So we covered the gate with trellis and mesh to stop her. She was still escaping and this time we were stumped.
One day, we were washing her and her “brother”, Sam (a dingo x staffy). We had just finished with her and were starting on Sam when we hear the cow bell on the gate start clanging. We look up to see Peppa halfway up the gate, using the lattice like a ladder to climb to the top!
One time Heather was walking to the shops and was standing on the median strip in the middle of a major road when all of a sudden there’s a little grey whisp leaping around her. Another time, Heather had actually made it to the shop when Peppa came running in. She’d crossed both sides of the highway, scary to think of.
On one instance of her escaping we called the council in case someone had found Peppa and called them. As luck would have it, someone had. The address was just around the corner so we walked up to get her. We find Peppa in the middle of a childrens birthday party, absolutely saturated (as were the kids) and with a huge smile on her face.
Yet another time she ran away and came back with a little black Chihuahua called Chico!
Oh yeah… And then there was the time we walked to the shops with her on the leash, tied her up outside, did our shopping, then started walking home without her. We got a few metres away then we heard a little “Yip”. Looking back there was Peppa standing, watching us with ears up and wiggling body. We guiltily ran back and collected her. She forgave us, she was good like that.
Gradually her eyes started going cloudy. Her hearing started failing and her little legs couldn’t jump onto the couch or the beds. She had always been a furniture dog so we would pick her up and put her on the furniture. But then her blindness caused her to fall off beds and couches so we stopped sleeping with her on the bed and would help her up onto the couch. We bought a baby bed guard to stop her falling off the couch and only had her on the couch when we were there with her.
She navigated reasonably well with deteriorating eyesight. She did start walking into things and bumping her little face. So I covered all the sharp edges and corners in bubble wrap.
She started getting herself lost in the backyard so she was confined to the courtyard. Then she got lost in the courtyard so we kept her inside and let her out with supervision.
Then she started knocking over her water bowl, Sometimes sitting in her water bowl and pacing the hall. She would bark for an hour every evening at around 6pm. We got Adaptil from the vet and this helped to calm her down but doggy dementia had set in. She started pacing in circles, bumping into things and getting stuck in awkward places. It was like she could only turn one way and then she’d fall down, get stuck on the floor and we would have to help her up.
As her doggy dementia progressed we had to start actively feeding her. Holding her under one arm and spooning up the biscuit canned meat mush for her to eat. Sometimes she mistook a thumb for a bikkie and there were some Mum finger chomps!! This time was an absolute labour of love. Our little love needed us. She was still getting joy out of life, she recognised us (I think by smell mostly), and there was the odd occasion where she actually attempted a tiny frolic.
Eventually we got her a little dog enclosure. A small round structure with a plastic bottom and mesh walls. Peppy lived in that for the last few months. We’d take her out for cuddles and couch time and out to the backyard so she could sniff the air. This was one of her favourite things to do. To stand at the front door with the wind blowing in her eyebrows. she continued doing this even when she couldn’t see.
Through out this time, we were in contact with the vet regarding her health and making her comfortable. They gave us information and questionnaires to help us determine when was the right time to let her go. A couple of measures that we used to consider our course of action was that she was still eating with gusto and that she still “recognized” us. She would bark at people she didn’t know but if we’d been out for a few hours, when we came back and gave her a hello hug, her little ears would go back and she’d get her wiggle on. Signs we knew were her signs of recognition and happiness.
Finally though, towards the end of April, we made the call. Up until then, she’d maintained a little sparkle in her eye but that was gone and she looked like she was done with it all.
So, we made the hardest and easiest decision – to let her go.
Hard because I wanted to hold on to her forever. Easy because it was the right thing to do for her.
On April 23rd 2021, after 18 years of faithful companionship and endless shenanigans, we farewelled our beautiful girl. Our local vet came to the house to perform the procedure and with her family around her, she slipped away. The vet and nurse departed and we spent the next hour with Peppa, stroking her, talking to her, crying, consoling each other, remembering stories of Peppa and laughing. Then, with flowers from the garden and wrapped in a grey fur she was taken away by Pet Angels. Like a Viking queen sent to the next world on her pyre, our little matriarch took her final journey.
The day after her leaving was surreal. Like walking around inside a bubble – distant and detached from the world.
The time between her being taken away and receiving her cremains felt frenetic, distracted and chaotic. It seemed totally unreal and all I wanted was to get my baby back. Not in an unrealistic, I want her brought back to life. But I just wanted her home where she belonged.
You can only prepare yourself so much for these inevitable events in your life. Her spiritual leaving was hard but it was in the days and weeks after, when her absence became more and more profound that the grief really started coming out.
It engulfs me at times with the deepest, heart-torn feeling. Wandering aimlessly through a department store and all of a sudden finding myself in the pet department. Surrounded by fluffy dog toys, beds and kennels wrapped in packaging showing pictures of happy dogs, feeling momentarily frozen as tears prick my eyes.
It hits me when I get home and for a brief millisecond I forget and fall back to deeply ingrained thought patterns and my heart leaps with joy because I’m going to see her. But just as quickly, I remember I’m not going to see her and my bruised heart splats back down to earth.
It is hard to reconcile that I will never see her again, never cuddle her again, never hear her little feet skittering along the floor. I will never not miss her. But that is the nature of life – it ends. That is inevitable. All we can really hope for is that we make the most of our time and the people around. And that is why, through the hollow, breathlessness that is her absence, I honour and remember this amazing creature who I connected with and who shared my life. Who adored me as much as I adored her and I thank the powers that be for causing our paths to cross. Our lives were enriched for knowing each other and we were so lucky to have had her companionship for as long as we did.
If that made you sad, then scroll back up to the top of the page and look at her beautiful, happy face.
Peppa's Place 