The Silver Band

Hemangiosarcoma. I couldn't even figure out what the vet was saying as she told me my dog's diagnosis. I only knew it wasn't good. It's cancer of the spleen and it affects the blood vessels. And nothing can be done about it. They can take the spleen out but within 2 or 3 months the cancer will be back.

I coudn't fathom just letting our dog die like that. She was only ten years old and I felt that if something could be done, it should be done. If she got the surgery then maybe she'd be the miracle dog, the one who triumphs over the confirmed outcome.

I went on auto-pilot and spent two days on the phone trying to find a clinic that could take her spleen out asap. I brought all savings and credit cards to the cause and made an appointment.

We shared custody of Nixie with my daughter and her partner and so we all waited anxiously to hear from the surgeon. Finally, the call came. They'd done a CT scan and saw that there was no use operating.

We brought her home - a dog that loved having her nose out the car window, now only able to lie down in the back seat with her snout in the direction of the cool breeze.

But she was still eager to go on walks, not far though. In her last days, she could still make it along her favourite overgrown pathway, her own personal jungle, to the edge of the park where she'd lie in the shade and I'd sing to her.

Two weeks later she was gone.

There's a scene in the animated film "Porco Rosso" (dir. Miyazaki): During WW1, the title character steers his airplane into a cloud to evade the enemy during a dogfight. He blacks out and when he comes to he finds himself in complete stillness above the clouds. In the distance, a band of silver shimmers in the sky.

As he looks around, he sees allied and enemy aircraft, flown by airmen who'd died in the dogfights. He watches as they fly towards the silver band. As he gets nearer to the glimmering ribbon he sees that it is in fact thousands of planes - all the planes of the dead flying together. It's a beautiful moment.

One night after Nixie died, my daughter's partner dreamt that they stood in the laneway where we often walked Nixie. In the dream, as they looked down the laneway, they saw Nixie with a bunch of other dogs, running. "Together the pack ran down the laneway, running further and further away, running towards their silver ribbon - only not planes, but dogs."

The telling of the dream was more moving than the movie it resembled.

She also came to me in a dream. We were standing on a lawn, bright green contrasting with her black-&-brindle body. I wanted to pat her but her big brown eyes told me she no longer existed in that silky-furry form. She said she only appeared in that body so I’d know it was her. Still, I wanted to hug her & stroke her ears but I didn’t because I understood.

A week later I read a poem by Mary Oliver. Called “The First Time Percy Came Back”, it expressed exactly the feeling of my dream:

The first time Percy came back

he was not sailing on a cloud.

He was loping along the sand as though

he had come a great way.

“Percy,” I cried out, and reached to him —

those white curls —

but he was unreachable. As music

is present yet you can’t touch it.

“Yes, it’s all different,” he said.

“You’re going to be very surprised.”

But I wasn’t thinking of that. I only

wanted to hold him. “Listen,” he said,

“I miss that too.

And now you’ll be telling stories

of my coming back

and they won’t be false, and they won’t be true,

but they’ll be real.”

And then, as he used to, he said, “Let’s go!”

And we walked down the beach together.