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We had had Lucy for over 14 years. She joined our family in January 2004 aged 6 weeks when there was only the two of us and before we were married. She had seen so many changes in our lives from our early thirties to our mid-forties. She had defined an era in our lives and had shared so many memorable hill moments with me until old age had cut short her hill days a few years previously. And now she was clearly losing her battle against The Watchmaker. It had been on the cards for a couple of months, ever since a lump had appeared on one of her hips. That was but one thing on a list of things that typically afflict Labradors of a certain age. Her eyes, her ears, her legs - none of them were what they once were. I could somehow sympathise!
We took her to the vets in early January, after the lump had started to bleed on and off, and they said that the lump was benign and not unusual in a dog of her age. Her age, they said, was also remarkable for a Chocolate Labrador. They could operate, but it would be costly and at her age, she would probably not survive the operation. Operating was a non-starter for us anyway, even before the vet said that. She had gone through two major operations in the last couple of years and we knew that putting her through that trauma again would be unwise and unkind. The vet agreed. She asked us if we thought Lucy was happy and had some quality of life, which we did. In the end, we left with our dog and a £50 bill for the consultation and a course of antibiotics. I think we all knew that her time was now being counted in months (low single figures at best).
A couple of weeks later the lump started to bleed more heavily and more regularly and started to smell quite bad. We took her back and another vet said that there was nothing they could do, other than advising the application of hydrocortisone cream. Given its location on her body, they couldn’t even dress it. The vet said that best case scenario (however unlikely) was that the wound would heal naturally and close up, worst case the haematoma would “shell out” and she could bleed out profusely. We left again, still clinging to the fact that the vet was happy she was in no pain from the bleed and that her appetite was as good as ever and she could still manage the occasional leisurely plod round the lane a couple of times a week. We bought a surgical collar to stop her gnawing at it and hoped for the best. The mess being made by her on the flooring and the carpets wasn’t a huge issue, given that most of them were about to be ripped out, but we were spending an increasing amount of time on our hands and knees cleaning up blood. She was also being increasingly confined to the kitchen, where it was easier to clean up. I was aware that we were treading an increasingly fine line between doing the right thing and letting things go too far.
Then came the Friday morning of the February mid-term weekend. I came downstairs in the morning and the kitchen looked like the scene of a murder in a Friday 13th movie. Lucy had managed to get out from the barricaded area where her blanket was and blood was everywhere, including up several kitchen units. It was time. We couldn’t go on like this. She was bleeding to death.
I needed some fresh air so I drove to the vets and asked if they had someone available to come out and do the needful. They could manage a house visit around 2 o'clock that afternoon. I nodded my agreement and left while I was still just about holding it together. My composure lasted as far as the car but no further.
By 2.45 that afternoon she was gone, but not before a last plod round the lane (most of which I spent carrying her and in tears) and a last meal of scrambled eggs, meatballs and prawns. The farting would have been horrendous if she had been spared any longer!
My wife and daughter were away later that afternoon with three other mums and 6/7 year old kids to Kilconquhar for the weekend leaving me home alone. The Saturday was spent helping the guy who had bought our old kitchen rip it out and load it onto his van, so I spent the Saturday evening with no wife, no daughter, no dog and no kitchen. I was feeling very sorry for myself and in dire need of some mountain therapy. At the same time I felt drained and the thought of actually pulling some gear together and planning a route was almost too much to contemplate. My good mate Robin came round that evening for a curry and a few beers and made me see sense. Actually he told me to man up and get my **** together!
So I did and the following day I headed up the A9 to see to some unfinished business on Geal Charn from the Spey Dam.
Zoom to Meall Cuaich from the Dalwhinnie-Laggan roadCreag Dubh and a coo in a fieldRobin had been right (as if I ever doubted it!). I needed the space, the time, the reflection, the quietness and power of the mountains. The walk up Glen Markie was amazing in pristine conditions and more than once, a young Lucy was with me, bounding through the deep snow and having an absolute blast.
Creag Ruadh across the Spey DamStarting the walk up Glen MarkieBack to Creag RuadhDeeper into Glen MarkieDeep snow ruts and back to Creag RuadhThanks Robin!Lucy is here somewhere!Not a bad spot for a bite of lunch, all things considered!After lunch I crossed the Markie Burn (not an easy task with deep snow lying across most of its width!) and followed the Piper Burn up towards Bruach nam Biodag and then skirting some serious looking cornicing up onto the summit plateau.
Time to leave the glen and take to the hill properThe Markie BurnMagic fence - now you see it, now you don't!Yours truly on the shoulder of Bruach nam BiodagI think I'll look for a route around this!Once onto the ridge, the winter wonderland was amazing but the going was hard through deep, virgin powder snow. But hey ho, this had to be better than sitting at home with no dog and no kitchen!
Across Lochan na Choire to Beinn SgiathThe Window between Beinn Sgiath and Geal CharnSummit ridge around the head of the coireWildnerness behind me!Stay focused on that summit!Visibility going......At this point it closed in entirely to that point where you can see nothing but white, you don't know whether you are going up or down and frankly you begin to question whether you are still on the same planet that you started off on!
...... visibility gone!Some careful map and compass work was required but even still I think I really only found the summit cairn by inadvertently walking into it and falling over it.
Plans to make it a circular route were promptly shelved in favour of the security of following my footsteps back down.
The summit is right there, just a few metres away!To Lucy Dog (4th December 2003 - 16th February 2018)
Lucy on another Geal Charn, 11th April 2011