When my little dog Leroy, went missing on Tuesday morning, I had a hard time keeping it together. 
I cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom, moved furniture, emptied cupboards, washed walls, mopped floors and reorganised my book collection in alphabetical order. 

When there was nothing left to clean or organise, I tried to stay calm and think positive thoughts, just like everyone kept telling me, but the thought of losing my friend forever, weighed heavily on my mind. 

When the kids were asleep, I ran a long, hot bath to disguise the sound of my tears. I intentionally waited until my 8-year-old daughter was asleep, before descending into a nervous breakdown, because she was looking to me to determine how she should feel. 

“Mummy”…..she whispered, fighting back her tears….”do the bad men in the pound give the doggies water and food when they capture them?”  

I tried to explain to my sweet girl that Disney films starring Lindsay Lohan, were not a correct depiction of dog pounds in general, and that yes, if Leroy was in the pound, then we could rest assured that he was being looked after. 
But once I had managed to calm her fears and lull her off to sleep, my own fears pushed their way to the surface. 
Leroy was sent to me when my beloved partner Chance, died in December 2007, under sudden and tragic circumstances. 

I remember clearly, the day I walked out of the doctor’s surgery (for another sleeping pill prescription), and stumbled into a litter of black and white puppies, being led down the street for their morning walk by a staff member of the local pet store. 

Leroy, who was walking ahead of the litter with a giant branch in his mouth, was oblivious to the fact that his tiny brothers and sisters were being repeatedly bowled over. 

Although I had no intention of taking on any more responsibility, I knew immediately that this free- spirited little puppy, would be coming home with me that morning. 

From that minute on, we have been inseparable, and Leroy has never left my side. 
From the very first night, he slept in my bed and placed his head on the pillow beside me and it was as if he knew that this was where he was meant to be. 
Whenever I was grieving (which was often), Leroy would put his head to my cheek and wipe away my tears, and in the strangest way I felt my own heart beginning to heal through the gift of his companionship. 
It did not matter what time of the morning (or afternoon) I got up, Leroy would never stir until I was up and out of bed, and if I went down for a nap, he would always lay down beside me. 

At night when I studied, he would sit beside me – often until all ours of the morning – and when at last he could hear me brushing my teeth, only then would he would jump up onto my bed. 


The last person to sight Leroy, just before he went missing, was the elderly woman who works at the General Store. She told me that at approximately 8am, she heard Leroy barking incessantly, from behind the General Store. 

When she finally went outside to see about the commotion, she noticed an injured bird near where Leroy was standing. 

She was adamant that Leroy had been barking to get her attention, because the minute she reached the injured bird, he stopped barking and casually walked away. (Those were her words, not mine). 
Of course, I was not surprised by Leroy’s humanitarian efforts; I have seen him do the same thing with rats and mice that my cat has maimed and injured and I have watched him howl at the trash can whenever I have disposed of the dead rodent bodies.  

I have also witnessed Leroy bark to get my attention,whenever the cat (the same cat who hates him) is standing at the front door, wanting to be let in or outside. And I have also seen him keep a vigil by the cat’s bedside (again, the same cat who hates him) when the cat was extremely ill and suffering from tick poisoning. 

Leroy is an extremely sensitive and compassionate little dog. He is also hyper alert, cheeky and mischievous, intelligent and loyal, and the bond between us is incredibly powerful and strong. Although I have had pets all my life, I have never experienced the same deep, profound connection that I share with Leroy. 
In fact, up until now, I could barely comprehend the notion of such a deep and loving bond between a human and an animal, and so I can understand if others reading this post, think I should be committed. 


But during the two years that Leroy and I have been companions, he has given me more love, joy and affection, than most people are given in a lifetime, and than most humans are capable of giving. 
He loves me unconditionally… and that makes living a little bit easier.   
Losing Leroy, even for 30 hours, shook me to my core. 

Receiving the phone call on Wednesday morning that he had been found, sent my heart hurtling beyond the realm of ecstasy…. seeing his little face again and holding him in my arms….well, there are no words to describe that kind of wonderful. 


I will never know what became of Leroy for the 30 hours that he was missing or why anyone would want to take him and then suddenly let him go. 
(I do believe that somebody took him because both of his collars were missing and he was found a long, long way from home). 

Maybe the prayers of my daughter’s year 3 class were so powerful that they caused a cosmic chain reaction…… maybe he escaped from his dognapper, just like in a Disney movie and bit Lindsay Lohan on the face…..or maybe the dognapper eventually realised that he was desexed and no longer financially viable….or perhaps my own pleas for help, to my beloved in the spirit realm were answered. 

All I know is that for whatever reason, Leroy and I have been reunited and for that I am blissfully happy and forever, eternally grateful. 

This week has been hard. We almost lost our beloved 14-year-old cat, Spicey and sadly we are not out of the woods just yet. On Wednesday night, I knew something was wrong when Spice turned his nose up at his dinner. 24 hours later, and we found him looking sick and disheveled; cocooned between a bookshelf and a bicycle in the back corner of the shed.


When my son and I examined Spice, we noticed a big, fat, purple tick embedded in his neck. After removing the tick, I felt certain that he would make a full recovery – after all, it seemed logical that the tick bite had been the cause of this rapid onset illness.


But last night, the poor guy became shaky, dehydrated and lethargic; his breath was labored and he could no longer use his back legs. Fearing the worst, I took Spicey off to our local vet this morning.


‘It doesn’t look like tick poisoning, but it could be a snakebite,’ said the vet. ‘It’s also possible that his kidneys are failing, or maybe it’s his liver? ‘These things are common in older cats.’


After running some costly tests this afternoon (that led to the elimination of snake and tick poisoning), Spice had not shown any sign of improvement and the vet was no closer to making a diagnosis. What has become apparent, is that Spicey’s kidneys have been compromised – which could either be a symptom of dehydration or the cause of it. In the end, I was given some antibiotics, that may or may not work, and advised to keep a watchful eye on him over the coming days.


The fact that it is not tick or snake poisoning, could be considered good news…. right? The bad news however, is that our cat won’t eat or drink and we have no idea what the hell is going on.


I couldn’t help thinking that if this were a person we were dealing with, then we would not rest until a diagnosis had been made. Although on second thought, maybe that is because we have free access to public hospitals for humans in this country…. or perhaps I have just watched one too many episodes of House.
Either way, I do feel like there is a strong possibility that our beloved cat has been sent home to die.


I want to make it known here, that the lack of a diagnosis is in no way affiliated with the level of care or capability on the part of my vet. He did make it known to me, that if the antibiotics don’t work, a chest x-ray might reveal a different set of issues that could not be determined by the blood or urine screenings.
However, my decision to hold off on the offer was based on two reasons – both of which are equally depressing.


First of all, our cat is old and in terms of recovery it is suggested that the older the animal, the less chance he/she has of recovering from invasive treatments and serious illness in general.


I am not suggesting that an x-ray is invasive, but should the x-ray reveal anything serious, then invasive treatment would most likely be required.
Second, on a scale of one to insanity, the money involved in veterinary procedures would topple what most sole-parents earn in a year, and to cover the cost will often require that you sell your own kidneys on ebay.


When our six-year old Labrador was hit by a car a couple of years back (and left to die on the side of the road), I spent $3000 to repair his hip bone that had split off in three separate places. One surgery, one infection, two x-rays, three blood tests, two courses of antibiotics and a few metal pins later, and I am still paying that bill off in weekly instalments!


But when it comes to forking out money for our beloved pets; those creatures who stand by us through thick and thin, day after day, year after year and bring us immeasurable comfort – how much is too much money?


And how can we possibly put a price on that which we hold so dear?
If Spice gets worse and dies, then that is something I know I can prepare for. He is an old cat, who has had a great life, in which we have all loved and nurtured him deeply.


But if Spice gets worse and requires expensive tests and treatments, that may or may not help him, then I honestly don’t know what I will do. He is old and I am cash poor, but we love him with all of our hearts. Sadly, this is a difficult situation that I may be required to face in the coming days/weeks ahead. 


*(A week later and Spice is out of the woods and on the mend).