Polish Translation: Wolna w Biegu o Zachodzie Słońca
Kasia’s final journey took place on a Friday evening at sunset, the North Sea at Sutton on Sea providing the setting. It was her most cherished place, a stretch of coastline where, unconstrained by her lead, she could have a run. Her unfortunate tendency to bite meant that only the solitude of a deserted beach offered her true freedom. She came into our lives in 2018, coinciding with the purchase of our caravan. A year spent in a shelter, at least one failed rehoming attempt, and the looming prospect of becoming unadoptable marked her history. Perhaps the sanctuary hadn’t been entirely forthcoming about the extent of her behavioural issues, but in the end, it held no significance. She became ours, and we became hers, a complete and mutual belonging.
Kasia was our companion through the pandemic, the ideal dog for a time of enforced social distancing. Our lunchtime walks in the unusually quiet local park during those strange months hold a particular significance. The dog run, often deserted, became her domain, a space where she could run freely while we simply spent time with her, amidst the pigeons and the silent trees, against the backdrop of a world unexpectedly paused.
She arrived with a sense of unease, a palpable sadness. She bonded with me quickly, seeming to find a particular comfort in women; the few individuals beyond Billy and myself she tolerated were also female. But her connection with Billy deepened, his fluency in Polish proving an unexpected and invaluable bridge. It transpired that Polish was her first language, a detail that had likely been overlooked or unknown in her previous placements. Billy’s ability to speak to her directly, in the language of her early experiences, seemed to unlock something within her, fostering a sense of immediate safety and understanding. The three of us became inseparable.
Gradually, her playful nature began to surface. Games became a part of her repertoire, her favourite being the audacious theft of socks and other soft items left at her level, a mischievous act that served as an invitation to a chase. She was a substantial dog, a Polish Collie/Newfoundland cross, her paws remarkably large. Her vocal range was impressive; she was a talkative presence, and many hours were spent in one-sided conversations, often while I was cooking when she would assist me in the kitchen. I called her my sous chef. Affection was something she both craved and offered. Her characteristic cuddle involved reversing between my knees, her body softening as my arms encircled her neck, my face buried in her thick fur. She carried an earthy scent, reminiscent of rich compost, yet with a subtle sweetness, a hint of vanilla beneath the deeper notes.
Her passing in August 2022, shortly after a diagnosis of breast cancer, marked the end of a period in which she had blossomed into her true self, fully loved and having experienced four years of a stable and joyful life. The depth of what she gave us is immeasurable, and her absence is a constant undercurrent in our lives. Consequently, when her ashes were returned later that August, a desire to hold onto her a little longer took root. That ‘little longer’ stretched into almost three years.
Then, on a Friday, amidst the preparations for a trip to the caravan, Billy discovered the box containing her ashes. His simple question, “Are you ready?”, hung in the air. A part of me knew that ‘ready’ was a state I would never fully achieve; such is my nature. Yet, the vivid memories of her unbridled joy on the beach surfaced, and I knew what she would have wanted. And so, I agreed.
The evening was beautiful in its understated way. The tide was high, the sea calm. The setting sun painted the sky with the muted hues of spring. The air was cool but gentle. We carefully removed the ashes from their container, each of us offering our final words of farewell. Then, with a quiet resolve, I released her into the water, watching as she dispersed, whispering a wish for safe travels. It was a deeply personal and profoundly emotional moment, tinged with sadness yet undeniably right.
Now, she is truly free to run on that beloved beach for eternity, to offer her oafish playbows to all the other canine spirits, to pilfer endless socks without consequence, and to never again feel the constraints of illness or fear. She was an immense presence in our lives, a significant teacher, and a cherished friend and companion. We should never underestimate the profound love that dogs bring into our world, and we should always treat them with the respect they deserve, not as mere anthropomorphised ‘fur babies’ but as creatures of nature, with their own inherent ‘wolfishness’, their own distinct selves.
Our home now holds Loki, another adoptee, a being entirely different from Kasia. His affections lie firmly with humans, displaying a marked dislike of other dogs, the very opposite of Kasia’s tendencies. He possesses a sensitive and loving nature, andhis own unique set of quirks, and our love for him is no less profound.
If you share your life with a dog, honour them. Love them unconditionally, mirroring the boundless love they offer you. And remember that when their time comes, the grief you feel is not a burden, but the price willingly paid for the immeasurable gift of their companionship. It is as it should be.
Kocham Cię, Kasia.
Josie Moon 