This week is a sad one here at the sanctuary. Our beloved rescue dog Fenn passed away after twelve years as my close companion (Andrew sometimes joked we weren’t bonded, we were epoxied.) That’s Fenn in the pic above, and I wrote a tribute, which is below.

But one thing that Fenn’s death did is connect us again with the person who  asked us to take him on, and the (unknown to us) ripple effect that one act of kindness had. She’s given us permission to include her note here, and I can’t tell you how moved we were at her words (and inspired to continue doing good in the world).

My beautiful boy Fenn died in my arms this morning.

We had a stunning walk together Sunday a week ago, where he entered the sacred grove as he had always done with me and stood guard while I travelled with the Elms. But he went down on Tuesday night in the wee hours and I knew, despite all my efforts, he wasn’t coming back.

Fenn was my golden shadow. In 2013, I said yes to a call from a concerned carer to take on a boy who was the most frightened dog she had ever come across.

We took him into our hearts and home… but it was me he bonded deeply with. He always wanted to be next to me. He would sit under the Troopy and wait for me if I had to go to the city for a day.

He was scared of men. He was scared of anyone in an overcoat. He would take off into the bush to hide from them.

I was so grateful he wasn’t scared of the vet who did surgery on his leg when he broke it. He won over the vet nurses being his usual gentle, sookie self. That was huge progress.

Fenn lived through the deaths of an entire pack. Willow, Marley. Maeve. Daisy. Tusuque. Sage and Heyoka. All were his mates he used to play with. He lived through the drought, the fires, the floods. Worst of all, he lived through my deep depression and frustration and fight against the brutal killing of our precious wild living beings by this atrocious government.

Dogs absorb your pain.

I loved his joy when we brought Mahnie, the Husky cross, into our family (that’s them in the pic above). To see him do zoomies with her like a young dog again. They would sit on the bed together mourning our absence in a totally bonded way and he would squeal with delight and come running to meet the car whether I was coming back from tending a horse or been out to the city for the day.

He loved it when it was cool enough to take him in the car, too.

How wonderful to be so loved by him.

How blessed was I to have this wise old soul. This golden shadow.

This star being.

Fenn was my golden shadow. He was always in the room when I did Zoom calls. He was just always by my side and was determined to be, opening doors to get to me. He was the only dog who loved his baths. He got me back walking again after I fought a nasty staph infection with natural therapies. He was a hero and a friend. He was my heart.

I knew he was fading, but I thought we would have more time. I have so many more remedies to help his body heal. And keep going.

But this full moon is strong. And they are always a portal. And deep down, I knew he had other places to be. Twelve years of supporting me and learning about love… giving and receiving… that was enough for him. He left in a nine year. In a time of death and rebirth.

I feel bereft. Empty. Alone.

It’s hard to be without a shadow. His bright coat and smile lit the room. And my heart.

I’m glad we built happy memories. I’m glad I was able to give him the gift of my absolutely full attention and presence during his hospice care. He loved that.

I’m glad I finally worked out his allergies, which let him grow his hair back.

I’m glad we had that last really special walk.

Enjoy the moments with your loved ones. In the big scheme of things, , it’s truly all that matters. Our time together is too short.

Good bye my precious, cherished, treasured boy. You got me through the worst decade of my life. And were my sunshine during the darkness. Thank you. For every moment.

Run wild and free, my love. You are strong and brave now. But I’m glad your fear brought you to me.

I shared his passing with  Bernadette Brennan who had reached out to me to take Fenn, as she had never met any dog so scared and worked hard to save dogs from pound euthanasia. Her response brought  fresh tears.

Back in 2013, she hadn’t told me he was on the kill list because he was so scared. But I had had enough to do with pounds that I probably knew anyway. I just knew I needed to get him to safety. Scared dogs… I understand them, and I’d witnessed these sensitive souls absorbing all the fear in a kill pound, knowing their fate and terrified by it, but outside the pound, they were brilliant. And even if they weren’t and needed more healing, I was happy to give them my all. Every life is precious and  sacred. Back in the day, I, and  many who followed me, had lost  dogs we wanted to rescue to zealous pound keepers giving them the  deadly needle, even when they had  potential homes. Unacceptable.

The pic at the top of thius newsletter is of me and Fenn in the car driving home from the pound that day. We are both grinning broadly. And like I said above, he was devoted to me… and I to him.

When I shared our success with Bernadette, she apparently used his success story as a template to save other scared dogs who would have normally just been signed off for euthanasia. I was deeply touched to know this one kind act, coupled with her kindness and dedication, saved so many lives. Go Fenn! Go Bernadette. Go me.

These are her words:

I remember his rescue  so well as the pound wanted to kill him. They were pushing for it and we needed to do some fast talking to get him released,. He was literally the template I used for the following years when wanting to save a frightened dog that a pound wanted to kill.  I would refer to him and the success and happy dog he was once safe. As a team we would discuss the potential for any dog like this, and this darling boy came up every time.

I was not long in rescue when I arranged for his adoption. Fenn, with your help, taught me that the most fearful, petrified pet can come around if given the chance, if taken away from the fear felt and shared by the pets in  a pound.

They sense death.

It could all be so different.  It just takes love, care , patience and respect, accepting that their life, is as important as ours.

More tears. That boy was so special.  I’m so glad he was in my life.. even for 12 short years. Because these animals — all of them — are so much more than just companions. There’s so much other work going on that our species has become disconnected from and taught to ignore. It’s time we saw all animals for who they truly are. Sentient, sacred, sovereign beings.

And that is why we created sanctuary for as many as we could.

— Billie