Millie
Posted Sunday 27th July 2025
Millie was a dog. A Staffy Bull Terrier cross. She came to us at the age of 10 weeks in July 2013, having chosen us when we checked out a number of the litter a few days earlier. Her simple ploy was to march up to the open rear door of the station wagon that brought her and wave her paw at us — a rather effective ‘come on’ approach that worked.
The tiny tot surveys her new home.
Exploring the wider world at Fishing Point.
At the time we lived at Fishing Point on Lake Macquarie (south of Toronto) in a house that had grown out of a 1950s boat house. As such water was a significant factor in our lives and it was not long before Millie had joined in. One of our activities was kayaking — up to Rathmines to collect the mail or across the lake to Coal Point or to the Wangi Wangi peninsula. Millie rapidly learned to ride pillion on our kayaks, wearing her life vest with a handle built in — just in case she went overboard and needed to be hauled back on board. In fact, in all the time we were there she only went overboard once and that was as a result of getting excited about some seagulls that were annoying her.
Riding pillion on the pedal kayak.
We had three summers with her in that idyllic place. One of her summer pastimes was to wade around in the lake to cool off, or at other times to do spectacular dives off our small retaining wall into the lake to retrieve a thrown stick.
Wading in the lake — a summer time activity.
It wasn’t all water stuff though. Regular time at Awaba Art Gallery grounds (or rather the adjacent bushland) and the Eraring Outfall area were places she greatly enjoyed. Over time I think she got to know far more about those places than we ever did.
Exploring the local rocks (or in this case concrete slab).
At the same time she became a very good traveller, going wherever we went in the car with complete ease. Multiple trips to Grafton were part of this some of which had their own adventures. On one occasion she was tied up to a blue cane chair. A couple of kangaroos went hopping down the street which proved to be a bit too much for an inquisitive dog. No trouble, until she became aware that the chair was following her relentlessly. In the end escaping from the chair became the issue until she unfortunately ran into a cul de sac and the chair caught up with her. That rather scarred her view of kangaroos and cane chairs for a long time afterwards.
In late 2016 we made a move to Melbourne to an apartment adjacent to Albert Park. This meant a significant change from her past largely outdoor life, but she handled the transition with relative ease.
Surveying her new territory in Melbourne.
Her journey south was in a car loaded to the hilt with remnant stuff that we had forgotten to pack earlier and (deliberately) took three days on the road, including a short time where we (she and me) were technically homeless. She took to her new surroundings with ease — things such as lifts and lack of outdoor playing areas being part of the adjustment.
One way of watching TV in her new home.
Another way — quite what she made of upside down TV is unknowable.
She was always very oriented to ‘family’. Whenever either of us came home she would give us a ‘present’; a rug, her favourite toy (little friend — a white fluffy thing) or in fact anything near at hand when the door opened.
She couldn’t abide being left out. Whenever Sue and I had a hug she immediately came over and made quite a doggie fuss. On one occasion out in the bush she wouldn’t respond to our call to return, so to get her back we had a hug — and it worked. Equally if there were raised voices from either of the two of us, she would get really upset about it, even if we were only raising our voices about something or someone on the TV. Family was very important to Millie.
Millie doing a bit of early family bonding.
She was always an excellent time keeper. Every morning at 07·00 she would come over and bang her tail on the bedroom wall, – banga – banga – banga …, until we responded. She also knew about 12·00 (lunch time) and 17·00 which was dinner time although in these cases she was more direct in attracting our attention. Daylight saving hardly disrupted this pattern of times — somehow her clock coped with such events. In later years she became quite adept at indicating it was time for everyone to go to bed, albeit at a time that suited her.
A very characteristic pose — the Sphinx.
Some years ago she broke a tendon of her left hind leg. This required an operation to fix and a recuperation period when she was partly lame. We concocted a Millie-cart to allow us to wheel her out to the lift and outdoors to a suitable location to toilet. When the other ligament went some months later, we tried the same process, but she very rapidly decided that being a three-legged dog, pro tem, was preferable to the cart.
The head guard that she wore following her leg surgery took her one day to master.
Locally she enjoyed walks in various Botanic Gardens, at any beach that was dog friendly and wandering nearby streets and lanes. Of course wandering in the park in front of our apartment was a frequent event. Her travels didn’t just remain local. Over the years she travelled as far as Tewantin, Grafton, Maitland, Buttaba, Sydney, Canberra, Bright, Yanakie and even Binalong as part of time away with her family. There was normally no stopping her if ‘car’ was mentioned!
Surveying the lily pond at the Botanical Gardens.
Sand mining on the beach.
In recent years her age started to show. Her muzzle whiskers slowly went white, she was less active, and she showed some indication that she may have had arthritis or something similar. We didn’t think much about it, and she didn’t show any overt signs of distress.
Her whitening muzzle was an indicator of increasing age.
Around mid 2025, not long after her 12th birthday, she became rather unsettled to the extent that we found we had to do something at night to allow her (and us) a good night sleep. An infant Panadol seemed to work, at least until Wednesday night (9th July) when she was restless all night accompanied by near continuous ‘moaning’. We made an appointment with the Vet. In the meantime, she did a morning walk with no noticeable difference to any other day apart from remaining rather disturbed and very uncomfortable afterwards. Sue took her for a second walk just before the Vet visit but not far from home she suddenly cried out then collapsed on the nature strip. Her back legs had just folded up. Whatever was ailing her had now suddenly manifested in a rather more dramatic way; something we had long dreaded. We picked Millie up and drove her direct to the Vet.
Curiously she seemed to know that the Vet was there to help her. She didn’t object to any of their probing and prodding and even let them use their stethoscope — something she would never allow in the past. The prognosis was that it could be any one of a number of nasty things, none of which were likely to be reversible. The only treatment was medication, and even that might not work or only have a limited life.
All the time she was moaning with pain so, after a lot of heart breaking consideration, we reluctantly came to the conclusion that we had little choice — the time had come to say goodbye. It was not about us but rather Millies’s welfare. If she couldn’t function properly without pain and a cure was unlikely then the decision was almost inevitable.
She was initially administered a strong sedative and within a short time her moaning had ceased. In fact, she let out a long sigh of relief and then fell into a gentle snoring sleep. All the time the two of us stayed with her, talking to and comforting her. We felt strongly that we should stay with her while she still had consciousness — the family all together no matter what. We like to think that, as the pain went, she would have reached some sort of happier place.
Now that the pain of the last day or two had gone, the Vet administered a final medication and Millie quietly left us — her eyes remained open, but we could see her life slip away.
Both of us were in considerable emotional pain but as far as a farewell for our beloved Millie it had some sort of dark beauty to it. She would do anything for us and in some limited degree we were returning the favour.
It will take some time to get over her going. She was such an enormous part of our lives, to a degree we didn’t really appreciate while she was here. We will get over our pain in time, but we will never forget her.
Goodbye dear Millie.
Young Dog.
Adult Dog.
Ageing Dog.
