Merry Christmas Sally: A tribute.
- annapietrograzia
- Dec 13
- 6 min read
As Christmas 2025 draws near I find myself reflecting on the past year. The successes, the failures, what I managed to achieve this year and what’s been left undone. I feel happy and satisfied that I’ve achieved some specific goals but there’s also been loss.
I lost my dog this year, Sally was 12.
She came into my life in 2013 and was a real terror of a puppy. It’s not really her fault, she was a cattle dog cross living on a town block, when she really belonged on a large property rounding things up. She was easy to train and learnt a lot about manners from our older dog Peppi.
She didn’t dig holes, she dug trenches. The garden looking like a construction zone with all manner of steel mesh covering filled-in holes, a hopeless attempt at deterring further digging.
She chewed up packages, dragged herself on walks then wanted to keep playing when she got home.
One day
I decided to put the clothes horse on the back patio, the whole thing was FULL of bras and undies. She delicately (because there was minimal damage) took each one, piece by piece, and placed them on the front lawn. This was a low house, flanked by high set houses either side, and directly across the road was a government building.
To say I was mortified is a gross understatement.
She pulled a lot of stunts, but that was her greatest.
She did have some positive accomplishments though… she learned how to run on a treadmill; she was great at hopping on the couch when she thought no one was watching and was very gentle when receiving treats.
And most of all this girl was all about the butt. She didn’t mind pats on the head, but what she really wanted was someone to scratch her butt. She was fiercely loyal to her toys and kept the same worn-out Koala for about seven years.
One day, sadly, she attacked my older dog Peppi, it was shocking. Poor Peppi had a bloody ripped ear, but most of all was the realisation that dogs can be unpredictable and in this case the trust was lost.
My parents owned at farm and had recently lost their elderly dog, so Sally went to live with them for several years. Far from being a punishment, she was in doggy heaven with cane fields to explore, lagoons to swim in and motorbikes to run along-side.
January 2025
Sally came back to live with us. She had outgrown the small city block where my parents moved to after selling their farm, and Peppi had passed several years ago so the coast was clear. Apart from the cat, Yani.
I was concerned about this new union. I don’t think Sally had even seen a cat before. But this cat is fierce, like most are I suppose. Fiercely independent, full of sass and has strong personal boundaries.
The last six months had been going along quite well, the animals were getting along as well enough, until one day Sally was diagnosed with bone cancer, incurable for a dog of her age. After a short palliative care season, we said goodbye in November.
I shared some of Sally’s colourful adventures with the vet when the time came, it helped. In that moment when Sally was drifting into her sleep it helped to talk about her craziness and remember her life. It helped me cope I think, to say out loud what she meant to me. It helped to talk to someone who had compassion, who listen to my story and knew what it meant to lose a pet and a companion.
Even though I knew it was the best thing for Sally, (by the end she was heavily medicated and unable to walk without assistance) it doesn’t take away the pain, the sorrow of a home void of a dog. She was always so excited to greet me when I arrive home, I like to think it was for me and not the treats I might be bringing.
I’m convinced that Yani misses her too (who would’ve thought!) she’s taken to greeting my arrival, but this time I think some treat expectations are involved. She hops on the couch for more pats and tolerates being held more than ever. I guess that’s what they call silver linings.
Out of this experience I found a few comforts. One, that we got the privilege of caring for Sally at the start of her life and now at the end. Two, I’m so very grateful that I could be with her at the end. That she wasn’t alone, I never took my hands off her for a moment and I believe she knew it.
I think, being the second dog I’ve parted with (in my adult life) did make things easier. This speaks to the resilience that forms within us as we go through hard things. The first time is hard, the second time slightly less.
We buried her under a large tree in the garden. Getting to have some choice in this situation was unexpectedly nice. I picked out her spot, and I got to make sure it’s peaceful, shady and calm feeling.
2025 Christmas Plans
This brings me to my Christmas plans. Over my break I’ve decided to do something to memorialise and decorate her spot under the tree. I’ll literally skip into the garden centre as I pick out something beautiful. Hopefully I can find some kind of memorial stone too. For me, nothing is more healing than the garden and a little shopping.
I plan to do a lot of stretching, I’ve really let me flexibility slip this year, do some baking and carve out some intentional reading time for the stack of books I’ve collected this year.
The Christmas season can be hard on so many fronts. Dealing with difficult relationships is never a straightforward business. For those of us who are living with infertility or being childless not by choice there is an additional grief and strain that rears its head.
Grief and loss can feel extra compounded especially with social media and constant bombardment from advertisers and influencers. No I don’t want to see families in their matching pyjamas that sold to me as something I should be buying and aspiring to.
Sometimes it feels like we’re either being asked to celebrate everyone else’s fun or spend all our money on all the things. Is it just me or does the overconsumption seem more intense this year?
This year will also be different for me on the celebration front. I won’t be with my family, but I’ll be starting new traditions with new friends. A Christmas eve pool party and going to church on Christmas morning (a first for me!) are two new things I’m really looking forward to. I’m also eagerly waiting to try a new flavour of panettone bread, choc chip and candied pear, but I must wait until Christmas day. It’s the rules. I can’t fight it.
If you’re feeling a little down this season, know you’re not alone. Think of one thing you can do just for you, a new tradition, a new book, reach out to someone you haven’t connected with in a while, maybe you could be a little support for them too?
I wish you a very merry Christmas.
Big hugs.
Anna.
Being unable to have children is a unique grief that's both gut-wrenchingly grieving and often
misunderstood. Mourning the losses of your fertility and everything you’ve gone through on your journey is important and often a need that’s hidden from society.
I know it can be hard to find someone to talk to who understands and won’t try to 'fix' things that can't be fixed. Most of us are past the point of toxic optimism by this time.
Mourning the losses of infertility is a complicated task but it can be done well and leave women feeling free and ready to move forward into a hopeful future.
AP Counselling is for Women who are Childless after; infertility, secondary infertility, IVF and Circumstances of Life. Being Childless Not By Choice is not a death sentence. It affords us an opportunity to take a step back, evaluate everything that’s happened so far and move forward with your life.
P.S.
If you're ready to talk to someone about what’s been going on for you, book a free 15-minute consultation call to discuss your needs. You can decide if us working together is a good fit for you. Connect with me here.
P.P.S.
Big Hugs to you on your journey
Anna
AP Counselling
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