My mother had long desired a dog while living in Perth, separated from her children and grandchildren. Following her early retirement, she had few hobbies and seldom ventured out. She envisioned a sleek whippet beside her as she watched television, complete with a stylish collar and a handmade coat. However, my stepfather hesitated, delaying the decision for over a year while constructing a high fence and a solar-powered sliding gate around their property. I often urged him to expedite the process, unaware that these measures were not just for a dog, but to manage my mother.
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During the Covid pandemic, when dogs became scarce, my mother and stepfather traveled several hours to adopt Sally, an elderly German shepherd, from a rescue shelter in the winter of 2020. At around 10 or 11 years old, Sally had difficulty hearing and moving due to age. She had been relinquished from a farm because she could no longer jump into a vehicle. My stepfather lifted her onto a picnic blanket in their car for the drive home.
I later called my mother to ask about Sally, but she confusingly told me it was a yellow puppy, describing its behavior as naughty and hinting at some sort of training. My stepfather chose to withhold my mother's Alzheimer's diagnosis until we could see each other again, but as borders closed in March 2020 due to the pandemic, that visit never happened. My mother’s phone calls grew increasingly puzzling, mirroring the decline we had witnessed in my grandmother, who had also suffered from Alzheimer's.
Growing up, we had always been a dog family. My mother had cared for various dogs throughout her life, and even during tough times, she found solace in their presence. Conversations with her began to revolve almost entirely around Sally. She would often call me unintentionally, chatting away about Sally’s antics, sometimes remarking that the dog was stealing from her or even that it was lying. Her realities were increasingly surreal, with Sally taking on an exaggerated persona in her stories.
By March 2022, I finally secured permission to visit my mother, but I arrived a day after the border re-opened, tragically after my stepfather had suffered a serious heart attack. He managed to call for help using my mother's special phone. They were taken to different hospitals and both passed away weeks later.
A neighbor kindly took in Sally after the ordeal. After an exhausting day of hospital visits, I approached the neighbor to meet Sally for the first time. I thanked her for being there for my mother and pressed my face into her fur, feeling a deep sense of connection. Sally seemed lost, unsure of her role in the upheaval, reflecting the painful but necessary bond we shared in a time of strife.