To My Angel Dog in the Sky, Louie

Courtney Downes

10 min readDec 20, 2021

1800 photos.

I have 1800 photos of you, in my phone.

1800 opportunities to capture your beautiful soul and what you mean to me.

I was only given one thousand, 800 photos.

Because then, you died.

We asked the vet to put you into an eternal sleep.

I can’t even bring myself to tell people you’re gone, because you impacted so many lives. I also can’t tell people, because I feel a soul stabbing guilt that may haunt me for the rest of my life.

I know this decision was the right thing for not only me, but for you. Yet it doesn’t stop me feeling like the worst human in the entire world. I’m so, so sorry my love.

You were beautiful. You were my rock. My baby. The beautiful light in my life that never failed to be there for me.

Everything in my life was leaving. Or confusing. Or wrong. Or changing.

But not you, my beautiful sweet puppy. You stayed.

Every morning you would come and sit at the foot of my bed. Then you’d saunter outside and wait patiently for me to gather my fifty thousand belongings so we could go for our morning walk.

You loved sitting outside under the bushes, watching the world go by from the safety of shade (hidden away from those pesky flies). Yet you’d never sleep in those hiding spots when I was home.

You would instead choose to sit right by my feet, on your mat outside or at least within visual distance of wherever I was pottering about in the home.

The day you died, I uncontrollably sobbed for 2 hours. I just lay on your bed where you last slept, unable to move. I could not think or function from the pain of knowing that what we just did was finite. It was final. You are now gone.

The thing I missed the most when I first got home was realizing I’d never hear the funny sound of you lying down for a daynap. Never again would I hear the sound of your name tag hitting the wooden floor as you’d very ungraciously thunk your head on the floor to rest.

I look around all day, thinking I can see your shadow sneaking into the house or feel your little cheeks brush my pants as you purposely walk too close to me on your way to sit and stare out the living room window sill.

But I can’t hear or see those things. You’re not there. The house is empty with you gone.

The vet told me that all the signs and symptoms of your fear, anxiety and therefore your aggression (something that isn’t your fault at all, love) which was getting worse every month, meant that I was doing the right thing.

She confirmed what I had been told before. That you were struggling with a mental health condition you couldn’t overcome.

A disorder likely to have come from a mix of poor breeding, being taken from your litter too young and being raised by absolutely useless fucking humans.

You had the worst first 2 years of your life, and whilst we all tried SO DAMN HARD to help you baby, you continued to struggle to overcome your hardwiring. An ingrained sense of how you though you had to function in the world, based on an upbringing that had wrongly been put upon you.

The afternoon you were put to sleep and after I got home and hysterically lost my mind at the injustice, pain and guilt of what had just happened and then after my ensuing panic attack… I immediately crashed asleep. In my sleep, within 2 minutes, I saw you, Louie.

In my dream, I was spirally uncontrollably. Spinning around in a panic. And then everything stopped.

I saw your sweet little face with those loyal, innocent eyes looking straight into mine. The same way you looked at me every day with pure love, for just over a year of our time together.

You looked at me and pulled your cute nose out of that muzzle you had to wear to your final trip at the vets.

That traumatising, awful, numbing trip that ended with me driving home without you in my lap.

You pulled your face gently out of the muzzle, and stared straight into my red, puffy and teary eyes.

You were sleepy, as if you’d just had a long trip. I knew instantly that you’d just arrived at the rainbow gate, on the other side of that afterlife bridge. Angel wings and all. You yawned and smiled at me – with that cute half-pant you always saved for when you were feeling safe beside me or in my arms.

I could barely look back at you. I whispered through sobs, that I was so sorry.

Sorry that you had to go. Sorry I couldn’t make it work. Sorry that I took your life. And especially sorry for the awful, tragic and traumatising end that was the process of putting your earthly body to sleep. The medications, the injections and the fear I felt you had to go through.

You put your head straight down on my lap, tipped your head to one side and looked at me with curious eyes. I heard you ask “what on earth do you mean? I don’t remember a thing”.

You told me that the last thing you remembered was eating that delicious Hoisin beef stir fry I gave you (which you didn’t know had sleepy medication hidden inside), and then you said you felt sleepy, and closed your eyes and after a while you ended up right beside me again. Albeit, in a slightly more translucent form.

This is NOT the experience you actually had. Your last vet trip on that day was awful and long and filled with memories I’d rather forget. So to hear you tell me you remembered none of that. Well, it makes me cry every single time.

I know that not everyone believes in the same things. I’m not religious in any way but I know what I saw in my dream and I know that dogs deserve everything more then humans ever do.

So if anyone is going to a better place, my sweet boy, it’s you. And I was so grateful you came back to let me know you loved me and to tell me you had a great day and a great sleep.

I tried to explain that you had passed away, but you didn’t agree. It was if you were trying to tell me you’re still going to be right here beside me but you said something that was a huge moment in my healing for me.

You told me that the only change you felt, was that you felt lighter. Free. Happy.

It was if all that anxiety…that fear of people, the intense conflict you felt in your body at all times… it had all been instantly removed. All that was left was love. And all the quirks that made you, you.

You still loved swimming.

You still loved chasing sticks and toys for hours at a time.

You still loved resting your head precariously on window sills and ledges too high for the angle of your neck, to look out at the passers by.

You still loved curling into bed at 10pm but popping out every few hours to sniff for bones you’d left dug around the place.

You still adored me, Alex, your grandpa Greg and your neighbour, Nicola.

You still loved tiny fluffy white dogs and peeing on big dogs in a weird act of saying g’day.

You still loved to pretend flies bothered you but would willingly place yourself outside where they hang out, so you can snap your head in every direction and try to catch them.

In fact, the night that you died, I was lying alone in bed and this fly came and buzzed right next to my pillow for ages. I don’t know why. But it was the exact type of thing you would have loved to see and all I could think was that you had come to make sure I was okay.

I’m not. By the way.

I’m not okay.

I miss everything about you and I would give anything to have you back.

Well, almost anything. I wouldn’t have you back if it meant you still had your mental health disorders that were too far gone to fix. And apparently I can’t have you on earth without that debilitating condition… so whilst I would give anything to have you back, I needed to do what was best for you.

Putting you to sleep was to save you from the overwhelming fear and conflict you were suffering from. Something that was quickly getting worse and worse.

I’ll miss your drool whenever you were waiting for tasty food.

I’ll miss playing hide and seek with you around the house. A hilarious game where you’d sneak up to a corner and poke your nose around to see if I was hiding there, instantly sprinting away when you saw me crouched, ready. We would play this game every day.

You were so smart, learning how to wait safely at the stairs when I’d drive my car in the garage …

Or learning “Mat” so well that we could still take you on the occasional adventures in public without worrying that people would get into your personal space.

I’ll never forget that hilarious time you took off to chase those black swans at your favourite water swimming spot along our morning walk.

I’ll miss the way you sniff the air anytime I eat anything with cheese, peanut butter or beef mince.

I’ll also forever miss the way you’d cry and yelp with joy whenever we would go to your favourite places, like Wellington Point. To see the bush turkeys, chase sticks in the water and watch other dogs mingle about.

Going to Wellington Point will forever remind me of you, and I look forward to spending time in silence in order to remember the bestest friend that you were to me.

You were there for me when I needed you most. And I was there for you.

We were together for a season and I thought that season would be 18 years. It turns out it was only 1 year.

The worst year of my life, and yet the best year because I got to have you beside me.

I will NEVER forget you my baby.

I love you so much, Lou. And I’m so sorry.

It might have been the right decision but I feel like a disgusting, awful human every single moment of the day.

Deep down, I know you’re safe now. You’re with my first doggie love, Bella. Telling her about me and all the things you learnt in our time together since she passed away.

So Louie boy, it’s time to rest, run free and play.