DOB unknown – 6 August 2024
A story of survival, metamorphosis and forever love

Dear Hanami,

We met on the 27^th June 2012. Just over 12 years ago.
When I spoke to VicDRG they called you the problem child.
I thought maybe I could make a difference, even if you weren’t the right dog for me.

You’d been in the dog pound in the countryside in Mildura, for reasons I will never know. But you were saved and put into foster care.
I first saw your photograph on the VDRG website. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.

I drove to Reservoir, and I knocked on the front door of your foster parents’ home. I’d been told you hadn’t been doing so well there.
You’d even bitten someone else who tried to adopt you…. maybe you were simply waiting for me.

The foster parent, a young woman, opened the door and before I could blink, a flash of white lightning shot past my legs and bolted down the driveway onto the street and vanished. I was left standing in the open doorway while she chased you down for the next 15 minutes. I wondered what the hell I was getting myself into.

Hanami, you and I went for our first walk that day. I was recovering from leg injuries, so I sat down on someone’s garden wall for a moment. It was then, that I took the first photograph I have of you, and I had wondered if there would be more. When we went back to the house, I sat on the sofa. You jumped up next to me and rolled on your back and allowed me to gently stroke your belly, and even give your fur a little brush. The foster parent was shocked. She said you’d never done that with anyone else.

I back went several times a week and took you for walks to build your trust, and I finally in July took you home with me.

The name you had then was Chloe. I was told it’s good to give you a new name with new and positive associations. I decided to call you Hanami. O’Hanami is the Japanese tradition of viewing the cherry blossoms. It seemed the perfect way to symbolise joy and renewal, and our new life together.

You very quickly stole my heart and I officially adopted you in August 2012. At the time people gasped when I told them I paid $500 for you to the rescue charity. $500 for just a mutt? As you’d learned from a young age, sweet Hanami, many humans are idiots.

You were so shy and traumatised it took you six months to give me my first kiss. One day as I lay on my bedroom floor  you quietly came up to me and gently licked my cheek.

You went on to become not just a star to me, but in the public eye as well.

Throughout covid and 2020, you studied hard, and passed all your exams to become my registered Assistance Dog.

You completed eight interstate flights. You pranced through the airport with your tail held high, like the little dog in the movie Labyrinth, your eyes alert and shining brightly. All heads turned to watch you go by.

The staff at Virgin Airways gave you a special highflyers passport. Every time we flew, the ground crew would ask for photographs with you. It was like working with the VIP and I was a personal assistant. Even the pilot came out of the cockpit to say hello to you, not to me. On our last flight together, the passenger next to me said to me it was the best flight he’s ever been on.

I never knew your age. The vet  guessed between 1&1/2 to 3 years old in 2012. That would have made you between 15-16 years old today.

When you passed away at 3pm on Tuesday afternoon, 6 August 2024, you were the oldest working dog still in the assistance dog program.

In 2021 you became the month of May model for the Victorian Dog Rescue Group annual diary. Then in 2022 you were the August model. And finally, for the third year in a row, in 2023 – jackpot. The Trifecta! You became the front-page cover girl supermodel for their annual diary. I think most of Melbourne heard me screaming like I’d won the lottery.

You weren’t always an angel – especially when you were younger. If you were left behind, you’d let me know your displeasure with a protest poo or, a wilful wee, as poor uncle Joel discovered on his bed one day, when we went to the cinema without you and left you in his house.

Once I bought a huge bag of kangaroo tendons and then I couldn’t understand why the bag was getting so low so quickly. That was until I saw your crafty little face slip stealthily into the laundry, when you thought no one was looking. I watched as you then slunk out carrying between your teeth, the new fresh tendon you had just thieved.

You didn’t like getting your paws wet and if was cold you’d try to run back inside rather than go to the toilet. You never liked digging holes but if a bit of stuffing came out of a cushion or your toys you’d delight in disembowelling it and throwing the stuffing everywhere.

You had a fetching little underbite that gave you the nick name, Snaggletooth. I never knew your breed, so when people asked, I said you were part Ewok, part Womble.

You weren’t a lap dog, except at the vets when you couldn’t stop shaking.

When you were younger you’d like to sit next to me on the sofa or in bed, not on me, but you pressed your body against mine.

When my father was in hospital, you were allowed to go with me to visit him. You would sit on his bed and he’d stroke your silky fur. One evening I saw an elderly man in the bed opposite watching us. I went over to him and asked if he’s like to pat my little dog. He nodded quietly. I picked you up and popped you on the bed with him. His daughter arrived and pulled me aside. I thought she was going to tell me off, but instead tears ran down her face and she told me it was the first time she had seen her father smile in six months.

Hanami you went everywhere with me. It was through you that I met half the people in my neighbourhood. When it came to walks, if I didn’t take heed of your increasingly vocal prompts, you became so frustrated you would go and get your own lead and throw it at my feet.

You loved being by the river, and as you got older, even when struggling to walk, you still came everywhere with me. The doggie pram became our continued gateway to the outside world.

When young Mochi the spaniel unexpectedly arrived on the scene in 2020, you were less than impressed by this handsome interloper who stole your food and lumped himself in your favourite bed. But Mochi only had eyes for you, and whenever we came to pick him up, he’d ignore me completely and only want to see where you were.

Like so many relationships, he loved you more than you loved him. But you found your peace and you taught him how to play, and even just a few weeks ago, when we came back from outside, you’d tackle him in the corridor, jump on him and pull him by his long ears in your teeth.

You fur was the softest I have ever touched. Many people remarked with surprise when they stroked you. I often joked that I would make you into a little hat or a pair of slippers.

Your liquid brown eyes became tinged with blue as you got older. Your little fuzzy face and made me laugh even in my darkest moments when I thought nothing could even make me smile.

Hanami, people have often said what a lucky dog you were to have me as your owner. But I am the lucky one. You saved me… you saved me many times over. You have seen the best of me and the worst of me. And you have always been there for me.

O’Hanami is a celebration of life’s simple beauty and fleeting moments in time. When the delicate pink flowers come into bloom they mark the end of the harshness of winter. They also represent a poignant awareness of the transience of life, since they only bloom for a few days before wilting and scattering their petals. People often described you Hanami as the most soulful dog they’d ever met, like you could see things others could not.

Hanami, my little friend, like the cherry blossoms that you are named after, you have brought me endless moments of delight. But like all the most beautiful moments, the winds of time have blown your delicate petals gently from me, and from this world.

The only thing you ever really wanted was just to be with me.

That’s all I ever wanted too.

You bought a richness and colour into my life that was otherwise pale and grey. You brought a happiness to me that is wordless.

Hanami, your heart was so full of your love for me, it overflowed, and it grew so large in your small chest, you could no longer breathe.

Your big heart became too big for this world.

And now you have gone, my own heart is shattered into a million pieces of all the light held inside of me.

Thank you for being my best friend.

Thank you for all our countless adventures.

Thank you for being my little soul mate.

I love you, my Hanami.

You are the light that never goes out.