Remembering Beatrix
One year on since Beatrix travelled the dog rainbow bridge. This weekend I returned to Coniston in the Lake District to remember my best friend and soul mate. Here are some of the notes I wrote for the next book I'm working on:
Coniston, November 2023
Winter was fast approaching, and I knew I would probably only have one more tip in Evie this year. There was only one place I wanted to go: to take a return trip to Coniston Park Coppice Club Campsite. Of course, this was going to be a trip filled with emotion. It was November last year, 2022, that Beatrix and I had our first trip to this campsite. Little did I know then that these would be Beatrix’s last few days before she travelled the dog rainbow bridge. But what a fabulous last few days she had in the Lake District.
It might seem strange to some readers why, a year on, both Mr M and I are still consumed with grief over the death of a dog. Until Beatrix came into our lives in 2013, I wouldn’t have understood it either. But we are. We’re grieving together but also alone. We chat about Beatrix every day. I talk to her most days, and I know Mr M does, too. We both had a special relationship with Beatrix. Mr M took her to the park to play with the ball for hours and hours. I took her up the hills and mountains. For that reason, I felt I needed to have my own private time to grieve for Beatrix. I knew that Mr M would probably do the same whilst I was away.
The evening before my trip, I attended a book event and got chatting with a couple of men at my table. The conversation soon became about the dogs in our lives. I shared my tale about Beatrix, and one of the men told us that he had just lost his dog and was still grieving. The other man, who, he told us, had just recently got his first dog, was interested in why I had a new puppy.
“Did you get the puppy to replace Beatrix,” he asked.
The horror on the face of the other man matched how I felt.
I explained that Florence was in no way a replacement for Beatrix but that having experienced the unconditional love of a dog, I knew I needed to feel that same kind of love again. Beatrix will never be replaced or forgotten, but I wanted to give a new heartload of love to a new dog.
I likened it to being a Mum. When I had my son, Benjamin, I thought I could never love anything as much as I love him. Then I had my daughter, Chloe. Did Chloe have to share my love for her with her brother, Benjamin? Not at all. I have a whole pot of love for each child. Then, along came the grandchildren. They each have a full pot of my love, too.
That’s what it’s like when you have a dog. My heart still holds the same love for Beatrix I had when she was here. But now I have an equally full pot of love for Florence, our new puppy. (Although she may wonder if I still love her after I found her chewing a hole in our lovely bedroom carpet!).
For those who have never suffered the loss of a beloved pet or think it silly to get upset over the death of a furry companion, I can tell you that the pain and grief of losing a creature from your life is like no other. It is as deep a loss as the death of a family member. Why? Because they are part of the family. That statement will leave some humans who have never experienced the unquestioning love and devotion of a creature shocked. The love and companionship that a pet brings to family life are glorious and warm. In the happy and sad times they are there besides you. When they are gone the chasm left in our hearts is huge. Hoping the break away to Coniston brought some space to grieve and remember.
I remember meeting the lovely Beatrix when Debra and Jim first opened the much missed Mother Murphy’s Tearoom. Beatrix would sit in the open boot of the car watching the world go by (in between regular walks to the nearby Helix Park) She was a calm, wise, canny wee soul with beautiful eyes. I could see how special Beatrix was to Debra and Jim and the two of them to her. I was privileged to have met her and she lives on in your hearts xx