Kara Murphy

We said goodbye to our beloved 11-year-old Cavoodle Reesie Cup on a cloudy winter afternoon. The heartache of having to let him go was – and still is – profound, but watching him frequently experience an acute pain that no one could definitively explain or fix left us with no other choice. Over his too-short life he consistently brought and exuded joy; in the end, like all dogs (and people), he deserved peace, not suffering.

Mercifully, the vets were able to come to our home for the dreaded procedure, and we spent our final moments with our precious boy in our backyard, sitting beside a tangle of English lavender and stroking his beautiful fur as we sang him one of his special songs.

I sensed Reesie’s happy spirit was still with us long after the vets confirmed he was gone, near us on the grass and, later, smiling up at us from his normal position as we walked along the bay, towards a full rainbow. In our yard, I could imagine my late maternal grandmother – who dearly loved her own dog – close by, too.

A few weeks and many tears later, a tribute piece arrived: a polished river stone bearing Reesie’s name and words of love. Positioned before the lavender, it looked lonely and incomplete until we placed one of our ball-obsessed boy’s worn, partially-chewed tennis balls alongside it.

This spot was now his, and we decided the area immediately surrounding the lavender should be included. Sectioning off a patch of earth about a half a metre on either side, we planted rosemary (which we used to freshen his scent in his final days, when necessary Fentanyl patches meant he couldn’t be washed) and a couple purple-hued sympathy plants from friends. ‘Reesie’s Garden’ became the most sacred space in our yard.

Spending more time near it, my gaze was drawn to other areas. Many were already stunning (my husband has long been our family’s extraordinarily talented green thumb); however, a couple appeared somewhat neglected in comparison. Though it's been a long time since I cared much for gardening, I now wanted our entire yard to sing with as much beauty and joy as Reesie had.

And so this outdoor space has evolved. French lavender – well-suited for Brisbane’s climate – is abundant. Senetti demands attention with her magenta blossoms. Flirty violas, buttery blue-eyed beauties, and fragrant herbs – basil, rosemary, and spearmint – line the stairs from the house. Tiger grass and violet daisies welcome us from beds beside the path. Kangaroo paw adds drama with its fuzzy, mustard and cherry-hued flowers, while alyssum is spreading daintily into a soft cushion upon the earth.

I’ve also developed more of an appreciation for the plants that have lived here all along – each lovingly introduced and cared for by my husband. Velvety royal purple lilies bloom in the frog pond he created. Tiny lavender flowers blossom within the bromeliads. Mock orange casts its sweet scent as it climbs the pergola. Youthful fern trees’ curling tendrils beckon me to come hither and offer them a drink. Elkhorns remind me of blissful hours spent walking in Queensland’s rainforests.

I’ve become someone who loves to wander their yard, admiring its beauty, determined to keep the flowers within it alive and healthy.

As I’ve wandered, my mind has returned to my grandmother’s backyard, which I explored often as a child. I’d leisurely make my way between its features – a goldfish pond, an arbour, a sundial – and linger at each. This mental journey has left me determined to find an accurate southern hemisphere sundial, something worthy of this memory and bearing words I count as poetry.

I’ve drifted back to the country cottage my parents once had, to the exquisite flowerbed my Mom would tend to each spring and summer and the front porch, where waterfalls of pink, purple, and sunshine cascaded from her hanging baskets. (I love sending her photos of flowers I introduce to our garden and look forward to the post-pandemic day when she and my Dad can visit again and see it in person.)

One day, I’ll carry a notebook into ours, and see if petal proximity inspires poetry. Even without that attempt, though, the flowers lift my spirit as I face each new day in this changed world. New blossoms appear most mornings. My favourite colour – purple – appears in more shades and hues than I imagined possible within a couple potted bouquets. My heart continues to mourn Reesie, but his love for us, and ours for him, endures as I appreciate the wonders before me.

One wonder demands more attention than all the others combined and dances with life, energy, and mischief. Eight weeks after we held Reesie for the last time, we brought a puppy home. Born the day Reesie passed and available to pick up on Reesie’s birthday, Moondance was surely meant for us. Love led us to him.

In addition to providing a focus for our love and distracting us from our tears, our new pup has given us another reason to be outdoors, beside the flowers. His youthful inquisitiveness has prompted us to transform parts of our yard, making it safer for him to explore and even lovelier. As we play with him – tug-a-war beside the lavender, ball and frisbee upon the lawn, hide and seek behind the boab tree – Reesie’s memory lives on, more graceful than any flower.

Reesie’s garden

You’re here within our garden

though your paws don’t touch the grass.

I sit beside your special patch

and think of time that’s passed.

Your memory brings such joy to me;

your name, it blooms a smile.

I know your spirit lingered here

for more than just a while.

Your lavender droops messily

towards our sitting place,

reminding me of curls that fell

upon your lovely face.

This garden’s grown more beautiful

in the tough months since you’ve gone.

I’m within it hours each day;

my gaze helps grow its song.

While breath did go, your light, it stayed

to hold the hearts it loves,

to ease our pain and frequent tears

with moonlight from above.

I know you’re glad that paws again

do dance upon this lawn,

that balls are chased, and treats are shared,

that love still blossoms on.

But for all the moments that we spend

in laughter and in joy,

our love for you is always here

our darling, dear, sweet boy.

- Kara Murphy, September 2020