Pippin Tree
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Mummy’s note: Goodbye Pips

If you’ve been following our Instagram, you would have known by now that we recently lost Pippin. I was still drafting a blog entry about her progress with us over the past year to share how proud I am of her. But as fate would have it, there will no longer be a need to share that. Instead, here we are, saying goodbye to her. This isn’t an easy post to write and I’m constantly battling tears (and in a complete mess) to finish this. But still, it’s time for some closure. 

Those around me would know that Pips was my favourite. As much as I love Sam, Pecan and Shelly (sometimes…), Pippin was special. The love she gave was different. It may be because we rescued her from a breeding farm and gave her a home, but the bond we had was instant and just extraordinary.I knew she loved me and that I was her everything. She was the same to me.Needless to say, it broke me when she left. A part of me died with her. 

To be honest, I still can’t quite grasp what happened and what ultimately took her away from us so quickly and cruelly. I knew from the start when we took her home that her kidneys weren’t doing too well and in a way, I kinda always felt deep inside that it was highly likely that she would be the first dog to leave me due to her horrid genes and poor start in life. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon. We only had one year together. Just one short year. There were so many more things I wanted to do with her and they are never going to happen.

 She was still hopping around happily, gobbling down her dinner one night, and the next day, she just stopped eating. And within the week, she was gone. By the end of her journey, her kidneys were failing, she started developing pancreatitis, fluids were collecting in her lungs and her stomach lining was thickening (the vet suspected cancer). We will never be able to identify the real cause of her passing. Truth is, it really didn’t matter anymore.

While I wasn’t there the moment she passed, I did manage to hold her in my arms one last time. By then, I could already feel her slipping away from me. Her dazed eyes and her unresponsiveness said it all. I knew she was tired. I didn’t want her to give up on me, as I would never give up on her. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her it was okay, maybe I should have asked her to fight on. But deep down inside, I knew this was the best for her. The stubborn little girl was done with all these shit. She wanted out, and it was okay with me. She put up a darn good fight, albeit a short one and I’m extremely proud of her. 

The next call I received is the one call I would never wish upon anyone. She had crashed and they were trying to resuscitate her. I’m still amazed how I managed to drive myself to the vet – speeding and crying. A seriously bad combination.When I saw them resuscitating her lifeless body, I could tell from the empty eyes that she was gone. Forever.The sight of her soulless eyes and her being resuscitated still haunts me today and it will continue to do so for a long time to come. 

A part of me feels that Pippin really wanted to make it as easy for me as possible. I was about to cancel my upcoming trip and stay home with her. We were about to meet an internal meds specialist to discuss our options and trust me, I was ready to empty my bank account for her (Mr Lim of course, didn’t quite agree with me on this). Instead, the little girl simply decided everything for us. The final bill didn’t burn our pockets as much as we thought it would and I was able to proceed with my trip (and I brought her along with me). 

More importantly, we didn’t have to make any difficult decisions for her. Of course, I would trade everything just to have her back with me. But we know it’s impossible. And what she left us with, was more than I could ever ask for.And I thank you for that, my precious little girl. 

A friend told me that “No words can describe the pain but it’ll get slightly better with time.” It’s true. The heartache is unbelievable. I didn’t want to stay awake as all I could think about was her. I just wanted to sleep it off and wake up from everything as if it was a bad dream. Yet my heart broke every time I woke to find her no longer there and I started to drown in my tears once again.

Yes, it really does get better with time. I’m managing okay. Of course, there are good days and bad days. Days when I’m an emotional train wreck, and days when I’m okay. I’m sorry (in advance) if you happen to catch me in the midst of one of my emotional roller coaster rides, but thank you (especially to Mr Lim, my colleagues, friends and family) for your patience with me. I’ll be fine, one day.  

(Thank you Melissa for doing this illustration for me. It brought a smile to my face.)

Sam, Shelly and Pecan are truly my life jackets, keeping me afloat. They got me out of the house, gave me the comfort (though they probably just wanted treats), snapped me out when I started to drown in self pity, and kept my thoughts from going astray. And thanks to them, I’m healing faster than I expected.  I’ll be strong for these three rascals.

Goodbye is never easy, especially when it’s forever. Maybe one day I will meet her again, maybe I won’t. I will never know. What I know is that the love she has given me is something that will stay with me. I told myself that I will smile every time I see her photo. And this is a promise I will keep. 

Getting a tattoo had always been on my bucket list. I didn’t want to rush into it as I wanted to make sure it was something that was meaningful. I brought the little girl home for the last time prior to sending her off for cremation and I took her paw print. With that, I found the one thing I wanted to ink.

Pips has left her mark on me. Forever.

My dear Pi-Pi-Pin,I love you more than you can ever imagine. I miss your little arm, your little head tilts, you hopping towards me with joy when I call “Pi-Pi”, you chasing after pigeons with a vengeance, your little howls every time we close the window, you annoying Pecan, you bringing your toys to your pee tray to hide them from Shelly, you sleeping like a boss in your little corner, you stealing food every time I’m trying to photograph it, your judgey face, and your uncooperative adorable expressions in way too much of my photos. Basically your everything. 

I’m upset that the time we had together was so short. I thought we would have at least as a couple more years. I guess one year was enough for you. Though it was a short one, we had a real good run. Thank you for choosing me to be your human mummy and I hope you enjoyed being part of our family as much as I enjoyed having you as mine. I miss you terribly, it’s insane. 

Wait for me, my love. I’ll catch you at the rainbow bridge one day. Till then, I’ll be okay.

Love, Mummy

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