Joey's Legacy
Written by our founder and chairperson, Nicky Heeley.
Since the day I was born, animals have always been a part of my life, dogs mainly, but we also had a variety of cats, hamsters, gerbils, rats, reptiles, ducks, a chicken, and even a turkey at one point.
Dogs have always held a special place in my heart, and Joey was the one who made the biggest impact. Joey was born on September 27, 2002. I was 19 and still living at home at the time, searching for a place of my own. We didn't have any dogs then, which was unusual for our family. We had two cats and a couple of ducks. I had been considering getting a boxer for a while, but couldn't find the right one. Without internet access at home, I visited local rescues like Freshfields and Animals in Need, but no boxer caught my eye.
One day in November 2002, on my way home from work, I picked up a newspaper and saw an ad for a litter of boxer puppies. I rushed home and called the number, only to find out they had all been reserved. Disheartened, I didn't actively search for another dog that week. However, fate had other plans. The following week, I bought another newspaper on a whim and saw another ad for a single male boxer puppy, it turned out he was from the same litter I'd enquired about, but the person who bought him didn't think it through and couldn't cope with a puppy and twin newborns. It felt like destiny. It was meant to be.
Since I didn't have a car, I quickly called a taxi to take me across Liverpool. During the ride, I chatted with the taxi driver about where I was headed. He mentioned that he was a boxer owner himself and usually didn't allow pets in his taxi, but he made an exception for my boxer puppy. He agreed to wait for me while I picked up my pup and then drive us back so I didn't have to call another taxi.
Upon arriving at the house, the husband handed me the most handsome 8-week-old boxer puppy named 'Buddy'. As soon as I held him in my arms, I knew he was meant to be mine. I gathered his belongings, including his yellow teletubby Laa Laa.
Back in the taxi, I couldn't contain my excitement. My new pup looked up at me and gave me a lick on the nose - it was love at first sight.
On my way back home, my phone kept ringing, calls from my eager family and friends, even my mum, who was running late for work, wanted to meet him before she left.
As I arrived home, my mum and all the neighbours were eagerly waiting to catch a glimpse of him. I brought him inside, and that was it. He was finally home, and he was all mine. The next day, I decided to take a day off from work because I had spent the entire night awake with him. He had slept in my bed, playfully nibbling on my face and ears with his warm puppy breath. But despite the lack of sleep, I didn't mind one bit. I cherished every single moment with him.
The following morning, my mum walked into the room and asked if she should take him so that I could get some sleep. But I said no, I couldn't bear to let him go. He had already become an inseparable part of my life.
At this point, my boy still didn't have a name. We had considered several options, but none of them seemed to fit his unique personality. We couldn't keep the name given to him by his previous owners, Buddy, as it simply didn't suit him.
Family and friends pitched in with numerous suggestions, but none of them stood out. Being a huge fan of the TV show "Friends," I religiously watched every episode. It was my absolute favorite, my sister said what about the name Joey. Initially, I dismissed it as too ordinary. I preferred unusual and distinctive names that would make him stand out. However, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake off the name from my mind. It had somehow stuck. And so, he became Joey. He lived up to his name, just like the character from "Friends" - a heartthrob, a charmer, and a ladies' man. He also had a few other nicknames like Joseph, Jofus, Jofus Ofus, and Sexy Boy, to name just a few.
Over the course of the next few months, Joey and I became the best of friends. He accompanied me everywhere, and he was a familiar face in all the local shops. Everyone around the local area knew him, and if I ever walked down the street without him, people would wonder where he was. Joey wasn't just a dog; he was a beloved member of the family. Even those who weren't particularly fond of dogs welcomed him into their homes with open arms.
Joey was always a social butterfly, especially when it came to playing with his friend Rosie, a Jack Russell cross Yorkie belonging to my mum's best friend. Just the mention of Rosie's name would perk up his ears as he eagerly looked out the window for her. However, our peaceful routine was disrupted when we encountered a less-than-friendly dog who kept trying to attack Joey whenever they crossed paths. This experience made Joey wary of other dogs, and he became defensive whenever he was on a lead. As a result, we had to limit his interactions with other dogs at the park, although he still enjoyed playing with Rosie every day. My mum, on the other hand, found it challenging to walk Joey due to his strength and energy, often joking that she couldn't wait for him to grow older so she could handle him better.
Joey and I were truly inseparable. Whether I was shopping, decorating, or gardening, he was always by my side, sticking his curious nose into everything. He adored riding the bus and would eagerly pull me on board whenever it arrived. Once I passed my driving test and got a car of my own, riding in the car became one of his favorite activities.
Joey was just a little over a year old when I received some devastating news. My mum had been diagnosed with cancer. At that time, I still lived with her and my younger brother. Despite the fear and uncertainty, I held onto the hope that she would be okay.
In the following months, my mum underwent treatment while we tried to maintain some semblance of normality. I believed that she would recover and everything would be fine.
Throughout this challenging period, Joey continued to bring joy to our lives. He was always a clown, making us laugh with his silly antics. Not a single day went by without him putting a smile on my face. As a boxer owner, I understood the unique humor and charm that came with this breed. Whenever we encountered other boxer owners on our walks, there was an instant connection, as if we shared a secret understanding.
As Christmas of 2003 approached, my mum was still undergoing treatment, but we remained optimistic about her progress. We celebrated the holidays and welcomed the new year, with Joey eagerly tearing open his presents, as he always did.
However, 2004 would forever alter the course of my life. Just a few months into the year, we faced a terrible ordeal. My mums health deteriorated once again, and I received the heart-wrenching news that her cancer had spread, it was now terminal and she would not recover. My mum moved into a hospice for 24/7 care. In May 2004, I arranged a meeting with the housing officer to secure the tenancy of the house, ensuring that my brother and I would still have a place to call home. Our family home, where I had lived since birth, became a symbol of strength and resilience.
On the 1st of June 2004, my mum passed away, leaving an indelible mark on my heart. It was a day that will forever be etched in my memory. Despite the immense grief, I knew I had to carry on and maintain the household, especially for my 13-year-old brother.
Not long after my mum passed away, my brother moved in with my older sister; I was struggling to cope. I decided to keep the house because it held so many memories of my family, and I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else living there. It was just me and Joey, my loyal companion. I started redecorating, with Joey's help - whether he was sticking his face in the paint or chewing on a paintbrush. However, I soon found myself sinking into depression. I rarely left the house, but I had to get up every day to take care of Joey, who relied on me for his meals and walks. If it wasn't for him, I don't think I would have had the motivation to even get out of bed in the mornings. But Joey's presence always managed to bring a smile to my face.
A few months later, I decided to buy a computer and set up the internet. I had no idea what I was doing at first, but I quickly got the hang of it. I spent hours browsing boxer websites, reading up on everything related to the breed. It was like heaven for me, as there were only so many books I could read. Eventually, I made up my mind that I wanted to adopt another boxer, a rescue dog that Joey could call his sister. I started researching Boxer Rescues and became an active member on a forum called Dog pages, where I learned a lot about rescue work. Although I hadn't found the right boxer yet, I got heavily involved in helping rescue organisations with tasks like home checks and web design. When I saw an appeal from Warrington Animal Welfare for foster homes, I immediately offered to help. That's how 'Smokey', a beautiful tri-colored collie, became my first foster dog on 2005. Even though I hadn't found my rescue boxer, I continued to keep an eye on the rescue forums, hoping to find the perfect match. While I enjoyed assisting other rescue dogs, my heart belonged to boxers.
One day, as I was scrolling through dog pages, a post caught my eye. It was from Home Counties Boxer Welfare, and they were looking for a new home for an older boxer girl. Her owners were emigrating and needed to rehome their two boxers. Ben had already found a home, but 7 year old Mitzi was still in need of a loving family. Without hesitation, I reached out to Louise, the contact person mentioned in the post.
The details of what happened next are a bit of a blur, but before I'd even seen a photo of her, Mitzi arrived at my doorstep. I couldn't contain my excitement - she was my very first rescue boxer! I was over the moon and desperately hoped that the introduction between Mitzi and Joey, would go smoothly. Joey had some issues with other dogs, so I was a bit worried.
We decided to take them to the local park for their first meeting. Joey barked and growled a bit, but soon realized that Mitzi posed no threat. She was incredibly laid-back, almost horizontal, and they gradually started sniffing each other and eventually ignored one another. Relieved, we headed back home, and from that moment on, Mitzi became a permanent member of our family.
Despite their contrasting personalities, Mitzi and Joey would curl up together every night to sleep. It made me feel like my home was finally complete. However, my passion for helping rescues, especially boxers, didn't fade. I continued fostering lots of dogs. Whilst out shopping, I came across an advertisement for another boxer in a local pet shop. I reached out to them, suggesting the possibility of rehoming her through a rescue organization to ensure she would go to a vetted home. They agreed and asked for my assistance.
I went to collect the new boxer, and although Joey accepted her, she wasn't too fond of him or Mitzi. It was challenging, but we managed to keep them separated. During this time, I spoke to one of the boxer rescues about her, and they offered to provide rescue backup and find her a suitable home. 'Cassie' soon found her forever home through Boxer Rescue, and it was a heartwarming experience to witness her transformation.
My involvement with rescues didn't stop there. I continued to help with home checks and offered assistance wherever I could. The fostering bug had truly bitten me, and many many more foster dogs from Hope Rescue and Boxer Rescue came through our doors. Joey accepted each and every one of them, while Mitzi remained oblivious.
The rescues I volunteered with were primarily in the south and since I didn't have a car, my involvement was limited to fostering. However, in order to do more, I decided to create an online forum called UK Boxer Dogs, which attracted numerous boxer owners and rescues. Through this platform, I created a database to advertise boxers from various rescues across the UK who were in need of homes. As well as this It became a friendly community of boxer lovers to get to know eachother and often meet up for "boxer meets". As my passion for rescue grew, I also took on the responsibility of creating and managing the website for my local rescue organisation, Animals In Need. Although I still continued to foster for Hope Rescue Wales and for various boxer rescues, but I desired a deeper involvement with helping Boxers. Eventually, I learned how to drive because I wanted to contribute more to the cause. After passing my driving test and acquiring my first car, it didn't take long for it to be covered in layers of dog hair from all the transportation runs I did for rescue dogs to get them safely to their rescue space.
Over the years, Joey gained a significant number of friends and fans online due to his comical nature and silly photos. Regardless of the challenges people faced, he never failed to bring a smile to their faces. Even individuals who had never met him would frequently inquire about him. At this point it was still just me, Joey and Mitzi.
Then one day, I received a message from Hope Rescue. They asked if I would be willing to foster an elderly boxer girl from Ireland. Her owners had decided to euthanize her because she no longer fit into their circumstances, despite being 11-12 years old. Without hesitation, I agreed to take her in. Shortly after, 'Kizzy' was transported from Ireland and arrived at our home. She settled in immediately, and within an hour, Joey was attempting to engage her in play, something he had never done with Mitzi. I left them to it, as Joey seemed captivated by her presence, while Mitzi remained lazily sprawled on the couch. As I sat at the computer, with all the dogs now peacefully asleep, I suddenly felt a warm breath on my face. It was Kizzy, standing beside me as I worked, looking up at me with a slow wag of her old tail. She appeared to be smiling, and in that moment, tears welled up in my eyes. I knew then that Kizzy was meant to stay with us. Within 24 hours, I informed Hope Rescue that I wanted to officially adopt her.
I found myself in a household with three boxers now, which seemed like a crazy idea at first. However, it all worked out well as Kizzy settled in quickly and became the playful old lady of the group. She could keep up with Joey, running around the beach and wrestling with him. Mitzi, on the other hand, took on the role of the mother figure, scolding them when they got too rowdy. In addition to running the forum, I also launched a website called 'Boxer Dog Rescue' to provide information about boxer rescues, dogs in need of homes, breed details, and training tips. The site became popular and kept me busy with emails from struggling boxer owners seeking help. Realising the need for more boxer rescues in the north west, I knew I had the experience needed to rehome dogs responsibly, I had a network of experienced boxer owners who were willing to work with me and offer their homes to dogs in need. We transformed my information website 'Boxer Dog Rescue' into an actual rescue: 'Boxer Dog Rescue Northern England'. With the help of a dedicated team of experienced boxer owners and rescue volunteers, we started taking in boxers and finding them new homes. Over the years, we rescued hundreds of boxers, organised fundraising events to cover their vet bills, and even hosted massive family fun days. During this time, I ended up adopting two more boxers due to their age and medical conditions I didn't feel it was fair for them to be moved on again, the first was Ben, a 12-year-old grumpy old man who fit right in with Mitzi. Ben became the grumpy old man of the house, earning the nickname 'Granddad Ben'.
Shortly after Ben arrived, another boxer named Chance came into our lives. Chance was a heartbreaking case, found in a shed by an RSPCA inspector. They reached out to us for help and of course I said yes. He had difficulty walking and an MRI scan revealed a tumor on his spine. It was clear that he would never recover. Despite this, I made the decision to provide him with a loving home for the time he had left. We had six precious months together before it was time to say goodbye. Chance lost the use of his legs, and it became clear that it was no longer fair to keep him going. On 10/09/08, Chance passed away peacefully.
Tragically, just a week after Chance's passing, my dear Granddad Ben fell ill. The vet suspected that he was in the end stages of heart failure. I made the decision to spend the weekend with him before letting him go to be reunited with Chance. However, time was not on our side. Granddad Ben's condition deteriorated rapidly, and the next day I rushed him to the vet. With a heavy heart, I said my final goodbye. On 22/09/08, Granddad Ben joined Chance across the bridge, only 12 days after his beloved companion.
Once again, our household was reduced to three members. I took some time off from rescue work, although I still managed the administrative side. However, it wasn't long before my next foster dog arrived, bringing new hope and love into our lives.
Joey and I used to have our special days out every now and then. It was just the two of us, enjoying each other's company. He was my loyal companion, my soul dog, and I always made sure he knew he was my number one. We both needed a break from the chaos of the world, especially from the world of rescue. It's a stressful job. Spending quality time together was important for both of us.
The two elderly girls, Kizzy and Mitzi, didn't mind our outings. They spent their days napping away. Kizzy, at the age of 15, was showing her age, while 11 year old Mitzi remained sprawled out on the couch. Joey, on the other hand, seemed ageless. Not a single grey hair in sight as he gracefully grew older. He was 6 now! He still opened his birthday and Christmas presents with excitement, a sight that always brought a smile to my face.
Sadly, less than a year later, Kizzy fell ill. Joey would lick at her mouth, a gesture I thought nothing of at the time, as they were always affectionate towards each other. But something felt off. A trip to the vet revealed a large cancerous tumor on the roof of Kizzy's mouth, making it difficult for her to eat, swallow and breathe through her nose. Despite a round of steroids that initially seemed promising, Kizzy's condition deteriorated rapidly. She struggled to sleep due to her breathing difficulties, and very soon after her diagnosis, I had to make the heartbreaking decision to let her go. It was a loss that deeply affected me, as I cherished that quirky old lady, and so did Joey. Kizzy passed away on 11/06/09, leaving a void in our hearts.
Once again we were back to 2. Joey and Mitzi. After much contemplation, I made the decision to take a break from adopting any more dogs. Although I continued to foster, I needed some time away from the constant responsibility and loss. By that point, I had already cared for nearly 100 foster dogs. It was time for a complete timeout.
For various reasons, I realised that I could no longer manage or be part of Boxer Rescue Northern England. I made the difficult choice to step back and focus on spending quality time with my own dogs. I intended to close down the rescue, but the other volunteers there were determined to keep it going. So, I handed over the reins, and to this day, it still continues.
During my break from rescue, I took the opportunity to pursue my other interests. I cherished every moment spent with my dogs, work, organised my home, and reconnected with friends and family and relationships. Rescue work had consumed my life for so long that I had unintentionally distanced myself from loved ones.
However, my heart still yearned to be involved in rescue work. And in time, I gradually started taking in more foster dogs and eventually established a new rescue called Boxer Rescue Liverpool. This time, I wanted to contribute to rescue efforts on a smaller scale. Running Boxer Dog Rescue Northern England had been a monumental task, and I couldn't commit that much time again. So, with the help of a few boxer-loving friends, we set up a small local rescue.
Shortly after setting up the new rescue, I was asked to help a puppy from a local breeder, she was about 8 weeks old and tiny, I named her Tinkerbelle. Joey loved her, they were like little and large, Dr Evil and Mini Me. Mitzi watched daily while they played together. It was apparent Tinkerbelle wasn't well when I got her, she drank lots, wee'd lots and had a bloated stomach, the vets confirmed it. After various tests they told me that she had congenital kidney disease, she might live months, or she might live for a few years. I decided that Tinkerbelle would stay here for whatever time she had left. Sadly that time wasn’t long enough, Tinkerbelle was just 3-4 months old when she got ill, sadly she was unable to fight it and I had to let her go. Her life hadn’t even begun. Tinkerbelle left for the bridge on 27/01/10.
Losing 5 boxers in just a few years was a heartbreaking experience for me. The pain became unbearable, and I made a firm decision to never take in another foster dog. However, despite my resolution, I ended up welcoming many more foster dogs into my home. Some of them tested my willpower and almost became permanent residents, but I remained strong-willed and continued caring for them alongside Joey and Mitzi.
Mitzi never changed her habits - she simply lived to eat and sleep. Joey and I still had our special moments together, like visiting my mums grave and running in the field behind the cemetery. Those were the times he truly enjoyed.
On my birthday in May 2010, I decided to throw a family party and invited everyone over. As I blew up the balloons, Joey playfully popped them, while Mitzi eagerly waited for any food to drop on the floor. A great night was had my all. However, as it got late, the dogs eventually grew tired and went up to bed in the spare room. Mitzi went straight to bed, but Joey, as always, wanted to be part of the action and came back downstairs.
After about an hour, I went upstairs to check on Mitzi. To my horror, I found her collapsed on the floor, in a state of shock. The entire family rushed to help and rang a taxi, a friend and I quickly took her to the emergency vet. The vet examined her and suspected she had a ruptured tumor on her spleen. They offered to investigate and remove it, which might have given her a few more days or weeks to live. However, considering her age and the potential suffering she would endure, I made the difficult decision to let her go peacefully. What was supposed to be an amazing night turned into one of the darkest moments of my life. Mitzi passed away on 09/05/10, leaving me heartbroken yet again.
I arrived home feeling numb, Joey sensed something was off and decided to sleep in bed with me. It was just the two of us again, like in the old days before my house became a haven for boxers. I cherished the time spent with just Joey, realizing he had shared his home with so many foster dogs and elderly boxers that it was time for him to have me all to himself once more. I made up my mind that I wouldn't be getting another dog, as it was too heartbreaking to take in sick and old dogs only to lose them soon after.
Joey and I continued our work with rescue dogs and running Boxer Rescue Liverpool, but no more permanent residents. My life now revolved around Joey, my fur baby. I had never felt the need to have children, as he was my world. His birthdays and Christmases were celebrated as if he were my own son, because he deserved nothing less.
For a year, it was just Joey and me. Then, one day, I found myself browsing Many Tears Rescue Website. I wasn't actively looking for another dog, but old habits die hard. I loved looking at the new dogs coming in and creating a wish list of potential furry companions. Many Tears had been a part of my life as I'd followed their work for years.
In October 2011, I stumbled upon a peculiar dog named Jessica on their website. She was a French Bulldog cross Pug, rescued from a puppy farm. At 5 years old, she had no idea how to be a dog and looked more like a seal than a canine. Despite not being a boxer, there was something that drew me to her, I couldn't resist her charm and immediately inquired about her. To my delight, she was reserved for me! I packed up the car with Joey and a friend, embarking on a 4-hour journey to South Wales to meet Jessica. The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was meant to be part of our family. A fragile little girl terrified of the world. She still had to meet Joey. Having fostered well over 100 dogs by this point, Joey still struggled with other dogs outside the home. However, he got along great with Jessica the moment he met her. Without hesitation, I signed the paperwork and she became mine. On the journey home, Jessica got travel sick, but Joey just slobbered out the window like a true Boxer.
My first non-Boxer since childhood, she fit right in. I decided to rename her Muffin. She had a lot to learn, but Joey was there to guide her. They quickly became inseparable, with Muffin following Joey's every move. I never thought I'd have another dog, but fate had other plans. Now, I was a two-dog family once again.
Muffin had only been with us for a few weeks when I started noticing some changes in Joey. He was gaining weight and drinking more water than usual, which was unusual for him. Joey had never been a big eater; his world revolved around his toys and me, so the weight gain was strange. Concerned, I decided it was time to take him to the vet.
Joey was almost 9 years old and had never been sick before, so it was heartbreaking when the vet suggested running tests. She checked for diabetes, hyperthyroidism, and urinary tract infections, among other things. Surprisingly, all the results came back normal. The vet attributed his weight gain to aging and slowing down, but deep down, I knew something wasn't right. I knew my boy inside out.
Determined to find answers, I insisted on more tests. The vet offered to test him for Cushing's disease, but she believed it was unlikely since he didn't exhibit many symptoms. Nevertheless, I wanted to cover all possibilities, so I urged them to proceed with the test. The next day, Joey went in for the tests, but unfortunately, the results were inconclusive. They requested him to come back for further examination. By this point, I was frustrated. Joey had never visited the vet so frequently in his life.
They repeated the test and promised to call me later that evening with the results. I took Joey home and then had to go pick up a boxer who was being surrendered to us in Stoke. While on my way, my phone rang, but I couldn't answer since I was on the motorway. It was the vet. As soon as I exited the motorway, I pulled over and called them back. The news devastated me. The vet informed me that Joey had tested positive for Cushing's disease and needed to start medication immediately. He would have to take this medication for the rest of his life. I couldn't believe it. My invincible Peter Pan was sick. It just couldn't be true!
After collecting the boxer, I hurried back home. I immediately called the vet for further information and sought solace in speaking to other dog owners who had experience with Cushing's disease. Hearing their stories gave me a glimmer of hope amidst the despair.
Over the past year, our lives returned to normal. Joey, little Muffin, my new partner, and I enjoyed countless outings together, including trips to the beach, Southport, and Formby pine woods. Joey had always been a mummys boy, while Muffin favored my partner.
Joey started his medication and the improvement was remarkable. He had lost weight, drank less, and his symptoms were disappearing. The test results confirmed that the tablets were working, and he was stable. We could now enjoy our days out together without worrying.
Then, we decided to plan our first dog-friendly holiday. It had been ages since I last went camping. I had always dreamt of going on a holiday with Joey, and this was our first one together. We booked a long weekend camping trip in Wales, scheduled for September 2012, an early birthday present for Joey as he was soon turning 10! The weather was freezing, but the dogs absolutely loved it. They had open fields to run in and plenty of intriguing scents to explore. We even treated them to sausages and bacon cooked on the camp stove. At night, we all huddled together for warmth, as the cold was quite intense.
We were soon back to reality, with more rescue work, foster dogs, fundraising days, and transport runs. Everything was going well, the rescue had recovered after a tough period. Muffin was settled, Joey was responding well to his medication, and we were excited for many more happy years together. More holidays, more beach days, more trips to the woods.
Joey celebrated his 10th birthday on the 27th of September 2012. He climbed into bed with me, eagerly opening his presents one by one. He always enjoyed the unwrapping more than playing with the toys. For his birthday tea, we made a cake with squirty cream. Joey loved eating it straight from the can, eagerly waiting with his mouth open as I squirted it in.
On October 6th, I went out for drinks with my family. Little did I know, it would turn out to be one of the scariest days of my life. When I returned home late that night, I found Joey in a terrible state. He had been sick, had wet himself, and looked disoriented and stressed. I immediately called a taxi since I couldn't drive due to having had a few drinks and my partner was in work. The taxi company was amazing, sending the next available car, despite it being a busy Saturday night, because it was an emergency. We rushed to the emergency vet, where they examined him. The vet suspected he'd had a seizure, leaving me in shock and hysterical that my beloved boy was unwell. They took him in and started him on a drip. I had to leave him there, which killed me, he hated the vet and was terrified of being in a cage. I had always managed to avoid leaving him there before, but this time, it was necessary. But I didn't want to leave, I sat outside the vet's for an hour because I couldn't bear to be without him. Eventually I went home but couldn't sleep. I waited anxiously for another 9 hours before getting an update. I called every hour through the night to check on him. The vet did the rounds at 9am, so I had to wait until after 10am to call again. When I did, they said he was doing much better, he was dehydrated but the drip had helped. They weren't sure what had caused it, they mentioned a brain tumor or a lesion, or possibly a side effect of his medication for Cushing's disease. They allowed him to come home, but I had to take him to our regular vet first thing in the morning. He finally came home at 4pm on Sunday, and the relief was immense. Those hours without him in the house were unbearable.
Upon leaving the vets, he looked like his usual self again. He eagerly scrambled to get out of the vet's and I felt relieved knowing he was okay. However, I couldn't shake off the fear that he might get sick again. Once we got home, he devoured his dinner, and we all snuggled on the couch with my quilt. I decided to sleep downstairs with him, keeping a close eye on every breath he took. Despite my lack of sleep, I was ecstatic that he was back home safe and sound. The next day, we returned to the vet's for a check up. The vet recognised us as we walked in and jokingly asked Joey what he was back for this time. Joey had become quite the charmer at the vet's office, despite him disliking being there he was always well-behaved and loved by the staff. Even the receptionist recognised my voice over the phone without me having to identify myself. Our usual vet ran some further tests and found everything normal, they advised us to keep an eye on him at home. We hoped it was just a one-time occurrence since Joey had no history of seizures. With a positive outlook, we took Joey back home.
The following week, Joey appeared to be completely back to his usual self, enjoying his walks and toys once again. Meanwhile, I had a hectic week at the rescue, as there were numerous dogs in need and a few were scheduled to be adopted over the weekend. On Saturday afternoon, after taking the dogs out for a run, I made my way to the boarding kennels we used to house dogs in emergencies, I'd often visit to spend time with them and to meet with new adopters. When I returned home around 4pm, I was devastated to discover that Joey was in the same distressing state as he was the previous week. Without wasting any time, I rushed him to the vet. Unfortunately, he seemed even worse this time, displaying less responsiveness. In the waiting room, Joey's condition deteriorated and he was sick. Thankfully, a compassionate couple who were also present offered their assistance in both comforting me and Joey and cleaning up the mess. The vet promptly admitted us and immediately put Joey back on the drip, just like before. However, it was evident that his condition had worsened significantly. The vet asked me to sign a consent form, granting permission to put him to sleep if his condition deteriorated further. I adamantly refused, as I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving this world without me by his side. The vet instructed me to return home and wait, assuring me that they would only contact me if Joey's condition took a turn for the worse and I needed to be there. I don't recall the drive back home at all. I sat there, anxiously waiting, fully aware that I would be up all night, desperately hoping that the phone would not ring.
Unfortunately, my hopes were shattered when, at 8pm, the vet called to inform me that Joey had suffered another seizure, his heart rate had slowed down dramatically, and I needed to rush back to the clinic as soon as possible. They warned me that he might not make it before I get there, but I insisted that I would be there for him. I jumped into the car, disregarding all speed limits, as my only focus was to be by Joey's side. When I reached the vet surgery, I hurriedly entered the room where the vet was waiting for me. She gently guided me to sit down. Then she broke the devastating news that Joey had passed away just before I could reach him.
In that moment, it felt as though someone had reached into my chest and forcibly ripped out my heart. It was inconceivable that he was gone. Joey was my entire life.
He couldn't be gone, he was my entire world, the reason I wake up every morning. We've been through thick and thin together, and neither of us were ready to say goodbye. It was just his birthday last week, and there were so many more presents for him to open in the years to come. There were countless foster dogs that still needed his help, especially Muffin who relied on him as her companion, she needed him too. But most importantly, I needed him. He had been my rock for the past decade, supporting me through the darkest times of my life. And now, when he needed me the most, I was too late. If only I had arrived five minutes earlier, maybe I could have said my final goodbye.
The vet asked if I wanted to see him one last time, and through my uncontrollable tears, I managed to nod. They brought him in, but I couldn't handle it and broke down hysterically. They had to take him away. But before they did, I stopped them. I knew I would regret it if I didn't say goodbye. I kissed him on the head, whispered my love for him, and promised that we would be together again someday. As they took him away, I felt a numbness wash over me. My entire world had crumbled, and I was left wondering what to do next. That night, I didn't sleep at all. I couldn't bear the thought of Joey being alone at the vet's. The next day, I made the decision to bring him home.
Mitzi, Kizzy, Ben, Chance, and Tinkerbelle had all been cremated, but I couldn't bear the thought of doing the same for my boy. I needed to be the one to say goodbye, to be by his side until the very end. I brought him home, and my family gathered around. Together, we laid him to rest in the garden, where he will forever remain. He is home now, with me, in our special place. I know my mum will be waiting for him there. She always said she couldn't wait for him to grow old so she could take him for walks. Well, now she can. I find cpmfort in knowing that he is being taken care of by my mum. But now I am broken and life will never be the same again...
