Ripley

Hey Dolls,

 It has been a minute since I've wrote about anything. Partly because I've been keeping myself busy, and partly because I just really haven't been in the mood. 2018 was a really, really rough one for me. While I'm the fittest and strongest I've ever been, mentally I took a lot of knocks. It wasn't all bad though, as I managed my first title win and trained with some of the biggest legends in the world... But, it is really hard to focus on the positives in life when you just feel sad. that's the only way I can describe it.

 Last year, I lost my dog Ripley. It was on the 18th of May and it was a Friday. it was also the worst day of my entire life. We'd went on holiday to Wales a few weeks prior to Ripley's diagnosis with 'autoimmune haemolytic anaemia'. Everything was sunny and fine. We were there for a week, and within the first few days we had noticed that his gums were extremely pale. They were literally snow white. Ripley, since he was a puppy, had always been so pink and healthy. We knew there was something up, so we took him to the vets when we got home. This was the worst week of my whole life. I remember coming in from the gym and my Mum telling me he was sick. But it was immediately followed by 'its curable'. That seemed to soften the blow, because there wasn't even a thought in my mind that he wasn't going to beat this and be back to his usual, lively self in no time. Gradually it got worse, he got skinnier and paler and less able to eat and sleep, he lost his awareness of when he was going the toilet. On the Wednesday, we had finally found a place that had blood that could be used for a transfusion - so he was scheduled for one the next day. I doubt anyone will have heard of his condition before. AIHA is an issue in the blood stream where the white blood cells effectively fight off an infection, but keep on killing, and continue to kill the red blood cells that are being produced. His body was killing itself. He was given tablets after tablets and for a well, fit dog, this was weird. No, even more than weird because for that week I wasn't even inside my body. It felt like I was watching from the outside. That's how I've felt most of the time since that moment. While many dogs recover from this, many continue to fight with it for the rest of their lives and the chances of it returning are extremely high.

Ripley had the blood transfusion the next day. Seeing him so thin and frail was the worst part. It almost wasn't real to me. None of this is. We'd had trouble giving him tablets, so my Mum got him a steak so we could hide them in it and get them in him that way. Ripley would usually eat anything you put in front of him. He wouldn't touch it. He wasn't eating a thing. The worst bit was seeing him uncontrollably being sick and there was nothing we could do other than stroke his lovely fur and hope that all of this awfulness would just go away.

The next day was the worst. I stayed off school with him because nobody could get out of work and he needed someone around him at all times. There was nothing I could do to take the pain away other than attempt to give him his liquid food and some water and stroke him. The condition he had also causes shortness of breath as the red blood cells are killed before they can carry around the oxygen; he was also trying to throw up, but there was nothing left in him so it was impossible. He couldn't lie down because you could tell he was hurting, so the only thing he could do was stand up, in a sort of trance, and attempt to fall asleep there. Of course, gravity and that doesn't allow that sort of thing so I had to just sit next to him, until he started to tip over and gradually lower him onto blankets. But in about a minute, he'd wake up and realise and the process would start all over again. I can remember his eyes just looking so tired and so sad, but still I had every hope that he would come around and that he would be fine, because he had to be. That day, we had a last sit (or stand in Ripley's case) in the sun and I never realised that would be the last time, because you can't prepare yourself for these things. I just thought everything would turn out okay.

Eventually it got later and we took him back to the vets to see if the blood transfusion had worked. They told us he was cold and showed us a slide of his blood. It was supposed to be red with a few bits where the white blood cells where. It was white. Just white and a few bits of red.

That night Ripley died. He died in his favourite place and was comfy. I hope he was happy too. For a week before this, he had been unable to make it up the stairs, but that day my Dad carried him upstairs so he could have a chill. Then he died. He took his last little breath and went away. I am glad I was there because I would've hated myself if I wasn't, but it was the most painful thing ever. I know they say things are like a million knives stabbing you all over, but this was one and it was straight through my heart. Because it genuinely broke my heart. I can't for the life of me forget just staring at him, thinking that it couldn't possibly be real.

You must think I should be less broken over this, seeing as its been just over nine months and he was 'just a dog'. He, for me, was my best friend in the whole world. When I was having a bad time in school and I needed someone who wouldn't judge me, or reply to me, he was there to talk to and have a cry with and God knows I've needed it lately. For the four years he was alive, he was mostly what got me through the day. The way it happened is what kills me also. He should've died an old dog who'd lived a long life. I know it wouldn't be any nicer even if he was really old, but he had so long left.

In films like 'Marley and Me', sure they're sad, but they don't show you the times even months after when you feel it. When someone leaves the front door open and for a moment you panic and think he's escaped. Or when there's fireworks and you panic and try and find him because you know fireworks always terrified him. Or when you have nightmare after nightmare about the same thing, the same moment when he died, and when you wake up there is nothing you can do; instead of it being fake, its all real and it actually happened. The truth is that I'm nowhere near over it and a day hasn't gone by where I haven't thought about it. It's safe to say this experience has fully changed me as a person; I'm still unsure whether that's a good or a bad thing, but its happened and I have to try and keep on moving and staying positive. Nothing is guaranteed, especially not waking up tomorrow. Hopefully writing this and maybe posting it will lift a weight off my shoulders because this has been near enough impossible. I'm not sure I know what to call what I'm feeling but I just know I'll never feel the same because I miss him. I just miss him a lot.

Yours,
 Lilli x

My little mate in Wales living it up large and posing for the camera... x