Oh, “Baggie”, “Baggins”, “Baggie Boots” and just “Boo”, what is left to say that I haven’t already told you? You were such a good boy.

You came to us from awful circumstances.

Your elderly owner slipped you too much food; way too much! Your diabetes was out of control when your owner passed suddenly. You were nearly blind with cataracts and you were 20 kilos overweight.

VicDRG put out the call for a carer and for four weeks I kept returning to that picture of you in a muddy yard with a big grin on your face because you thought someone was going to play soccer with you and that ratty old ball that had been punctured years ago. Your vision was so bad you could only sense the ball and the photographer. But you smiled nonetheless.

You never expected much but you gave all of yourself.

Even though you were overfed and your medical treatment could have been much better, your owner loved you. On his deathbed he made his children promise to look after you. They agreed. Then they put you in kennels. After they got sick of paying the fees, they called the kennels and asked them to have you killed. But the kennel staff refused. You were such a nice dog and they didn’t want you to die. You were only seven or eight years old. Aside from being blind, obese and diabetic, you had a life to live!

That is when VicDRG stepped in and we made the trip to Yarrawonga. You hopped straight into our car with a little guidance and never said boo until we got home.

You “learned the house” including the dog door in half an hour and never once in your whole life did you make a mess inside even though you had to feel your way around. My girls (VICDRG Kelpie and Koolie) fondly accepted you and you delighted in their company. I think you knew you were home. You were such a good boy.

Then came the process of getting your health back. You lost weight and we were able to treat your diabetes. You were a regular at Australian Animal Diabetes and they helped you to feel more comfortable. Sometimes the needles made you whimper but you knew the insulin was doing its job so you never shirked your injections.

Then the process of restoring your sight began. If I am honest, I prayed that we could get your sight restored in just one eye and two was a bonus. I should have aimed higher.

Baggie, we tried so hard to get you vision in both eyes but after six surgeries, we just couldn’t manage the pressure in the one eye that was causing you so much pain. When we removed the eye and replaced it with a prosthetic, you cried because you knew we had taken away some of your world and you had foregone so much already. But you recovered and learned to operate with one eye. One was enough.

On off-lead walks you told us how much you loved young children. Toddlers were amazing to you and a baby in a pram was the best! You would trot up and then gently sit and ogle a little human like they were the best present anyone could give to you.

So, during COVID, you and I trained to be a school therapy team and work with children. I will never forget the day that nine-year-old Alaska walked into our classroom. The whole class was chatting excitedly at the start of the school day, and to me, Alaska didn’t appear any different. But you made a beeline for her and refused to leave her side. You were Velcro on her leg. Later that morning Alaska    told me her grandmother had passed away during the early hours of the morning. You knew Baggie. You were unrivalled in the ‘sensing and feeling’ department which made you such a great therapy dog. Had you not rifled through the children’s lunchboxes and punctured so many basketballs that the PE teacher wanted to muzzle you, you would have been perfect.

But time catches up with all of us and your work was depleting you. You went from going to school three days to two days to one day and eventually none. You didn’t understand why I stopped taking you to work.

Then on our morning walks you went from forty minutes to twenty minutes to ten minutes to not being able to make it down our driveway. You took to pacing and telling me, “Mum, I’m sore. It hurts mum.” You had nothing left in the tank and nothing left to give. You gave it all and you were done. If dogs were capable of regrets, you would have had none; zero. You lived your life to the max. You were such a good boy.

We knew your time was coming but it happened more quickly than we expected. Mary struggled to find a vein as your blood pressure was so low. It was your time. As we sat on the floor with you, patting your head, we told you what a good dog you had been and that we loved you so very much.  Everyone loved you Baggie. You were a very special boy. You were a good boy. The best ever.

Then I made one final ask of you. “Wait for me Baggie, I will be with you soon enough.”

But a part of me knows you won’t be doing that. There are too many fields to run through, too many lunch boxes to raid and too many soccer games to play. And no needles or eye drops ever. And no strict diets either!

I guess if I am ever going to find you again, I will have to ask around. “Have you seen a very good dog? He’s a Koolie with one eye. He’s the best dog ever!”  And the reply will come…

“Oh, you mean Baggins? He has both eyes now. Yes, he is over there puncturing his basketball for the five thousandth time; they just blow back up here. You know he is our star keeper! He’s a really good dog!”

“Yeah, I know. He’s the best ever.”