Behind the Sunglasses — A Love Story

Yesterday was the Day of the Dead.

There’s a beautiful belief that on this day, the animals we’ve loved and lost may come back to visit us.

Now, I don’t know whether that’s true.

But yesterday, I watched.

I listened.

And if I’m being completely honest, I hoped.

Outside my bedroom hangs a wind chime with Marley’s name on it.

And yesterday, it rang.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Perhaps it was just the wind.

Perhaps it was my imagination.

Or perhaps it was simply a mama whose heart still longs for her little boy.

But I found myself whispering…

“Marley, my darling boy, is that you?”

It’s been fifteen months since I last held him.

And I still miss him every single day.

But before I tell you about losing Marley Jean, I want you to meet him.

Because this isn’t just a story about a dog who died.

It’s a story about a little dog who knew how to love better than most humans ever will.

And God, did he love.

The Dog I Never Wanted

Before Kai, there was Marley Jean.

Marley, after Bob Marley.

Jean, after Billie Jean.

Yes, my dog was named after two musical legends. Because apparently, even my pets needed a little flair! 😂

But here’s the funny thing.

I didn’t want a dog.

I’d already loved and lost my childhood dog, Nini. I’d also had my beautiful cat Louis for eleven years.

I knew what it meant to love an animal.

And I knew what it meant to lose one.

So when Mirko and Thais decided they wanted a dog, I made my position very clear.

Their dog. Their responsibility. Their problem.

Off they went to get one.

And home came this little cocker spaniel with enormous eyes, floppy ears, and absolutely no intention of following the household arrangements.

He cried.

He wouldn’t settle.

He refused to stay outside.

He was difficult, demanding, and generally behaving as though the entire family existed to accommodate his needs.

We even brought in a dog trainer.

She was working with Mirko and Thais, helping them understand and settle this little creature.

Meanwhile, I was in the kitchen, probably rambling about how this was THEIR dog and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with the situation.

Then the trainer came into the kitchen.

Looked at me.

And said:

“It’s your dog.”

Excuse me?

No, darling. You’ve clearly misunderstood the arrangement.

But she explained that Marley had chosen me.

And then I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

Those eyes.

Oh, those beautiful eyes.

And just like that, I was finished.

The little bugger had chosen his mama.

And his mama never stood a chance.

Where Mama Goes, Marley Goes

From that moment, Marley became my shadow.

Not figuratively.

Literally.

If I walked around the dining table a hundred times, Marley would walk around it a hundred times behind me.

If I stood up, he stood up.

If I sat down, he settled at my feet.

If I moved to another room, he followed.

Privacy?

What privacy?

Apparently, once you belong to a cocker spaniel, personal space is no longer included in the arrangement.

Mirko could call him outside to play.

Marley would look at him as though he’d just suggested something completely ridiculous.

Why on earth would he go outside?

Mama was inside!

End of discussion.

At night, Marley would sleep beside me.

If Mirko told him to go to his own bed, Marley would reluctantly retreat.

For approximately five minutes.

Then he’d begin his little operation.

Slowly.

Quietly.

A little closer.

And a little closer.

Until he was right beside me again.

As though Mirko wouldn’t notice an entire cocker spaniel sneaking back towards his wife!

Oh, Marley.

You weren’t exactly subtle, my boy.

But you were mine.

And I was yours.

Everyone knew it.

People used to say Marley would die for his mama.

And the truth is, I think he would have.

The Food Thief With Expensive Taste 😂

Now, Marley loved his mama.

But there was another great love in his life.

FOOD!

Pizza.

Chicken.

Mussels.

Oh, how that boy loved his food.

He didn’t simply enjoy eating.

He considered food an important personal mission.

And if you weren’t going to give it to him, he’d find a way to get it himself.

Marley was a professional food thief.

Not an amateur.

A PROFESSIONAL.

And then came Easter.

We went out.

Marley stayed home.

And apparently decided to organise his own private Easter celebration.

THREE KILOS OF EASTER CHOCOLATES!

Yes.

THREE BLOODY KILOS!

Ferrero Rocher, in particular.

Because my boy had expensive taste.

But here’s the part that still makes me laugh.

He apparently went through the chocolates and selected the ones he liked.

And skipped the coconut ones!

Because heaven forbid Marley Jean should have to eat something beneath his sophisticated palate.

And the wrappers?

Oh, he left those behind.

Evidence everywhere.

Imagine coming home to discover your dog had conducted an entire chocolate-tasting event without inviting anyone!

And there he was.

Looking very pleased with himself.

Not a trace of guilt.

Not even the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

Of course, chocolate is toxic to dogs, and what followed was a frightening emergency veterinary visit.

One of several adventures that involved us rushing Marley to get medical attention.

But did Marley learn his lesson?

Absolutely bloody not.

Because food remained his greatest weakness.

The Green Plastic Incident

Marley also had a passion for investigating the food rubbish bin.

And by investigating, I mean eating things that had absolutely no business being inside a dog.

Including the green plastic bin liner.

Yes.

PLASTIC.

Because apparently pizza, chicken, mussels and expensive chocolates weren’t enough.

And one day, while we were out walking, we discovered that Marley had swallowed some green plastic.

How did we discover this?

Well…

Let’s just say it was making an appearance from the other end.

There we were, dealing with a piece of green plastic hanging out of Marley’s backside!

Honestly, Marley Jean!

You couldn’t make this stuff up.

This dog could turn an ordinary walk into a full-blown family emergency.

And yet, somehow, he’d look up at you with those beautiful innocent eyes as though to say:

What? Did I do something?

Life with Marley was never boring.

There were emergency vet visits, stolen food, mysterious noises, strange discoveries, and moments when I genuinely wondered how this little creature had managed to survive his own decisions.

But God, how I miss those ridiculous moments.

Even the green plastic.

Well… perhaps not that one!

Not the Brightest Little Spark

Now, Marley wasn’t exactly a genius.

Bless his beautiful little heart.

He’d run into walls.

Slip over.

Trip while trying to do something perfectly ordinary.

Sometimes I’d look at him and wonder what on earth was going on inside that little head.

He loved toys.

Especially the ones that went pinku pinku when he squeezed them.

He’d carry them around, delighted with himself.

And yet, for reasons known only to Marley, he was absolutely terrified of a plastic duck.

A PLASTIC DUCK!

This was the same dog who would declare war on the postman.

But a plastic duck?

Terrifying.

Marley was a walking contradiction.

Brave enough to challenge the postman.

Not brave enough to confront a plastic duck.

Clever enough to unwrap Ferrero Rocher.

Not clever enough to avoid running into a wall.

But here’s the thing.

Marley didn’t have one mean fur on his body.

Not one.

He was pure softness.

Pure affection.

Pure love.

When other little animals joined our family, including cats, Marley was gentle and cuddly with them.

He wasn’t interested in being the boss.

He wasn’t interested in proving anything.

He just wanted to love and be loved.

He may not have understood much about the world.

But he understood the one thing that mattered most.

Love.

And he understood it better than anyone.

Mama’s Little Bodyguard

Marley loved going for drives.

He’d sit proudly beside me in the passenger seat, looking out at the world as though he owned it.

My handsome little boy.

And God help us if he spotted the postman!

Even from the car!

The outrage!

The barking!

The sheer audacity of a man delivering letters and daring to exist within Marley’s field of vision!

The postman would sometimes innocently extend his hand.

Big mistake.

Marley would react as though the man had just attempted to kidnap his mother.

Poor postman.

He never stood a chance.

Marley wasn’t mean.

He was simply convinced that protecting Mama was his life’s most important responsibility.

And apparently, the entire postal service was a threat to national security.

A slightly clumsy cocker spaniel who ran into walls and was terrified of plastic ducks.

My personal bodyguard.

Excellent credentials, obviously! 😂

The World’s Most Ridiculously Dressed Dog

Now, Marley may have been the sweetest dog in the world, but unfortunately for him, he belonged to a woman with a rather questionable sense of humour.

Halloween was particularly dangerous.

Over the years, Marley became Spock.

A policeman.

A unicorn.

And Where’s Wally.

Yes.

My beautiful cocker spaniel dressed as Where’s Wally.

And he WON a best-dressed competition!

My little superstar!

He’d sit proudly in his ridiculous outfits while I took photographs.

Not because he understood Halloween.

Not because he particularly wanted to be a unicorn.

But because Mama was laughing.

And when Mama laughed, Marley was happy.

He’d sit there with those beautiful eyes looking at me.

Patient.

Trusting.

Proud as anything.

As though to say:

Are you happy, Mama? Good. Then I’m happy too.

I look at those photographs now.

Sometimes I laugh.

Sometimes I cry.

Usually both.

Because I’d give anything to dress him up one more time.

To hear his little feet following me.

To have him look at me as though I was the most wonderful person in the world.

Even when I was making him wear a bloody unicorn costume.

“Lie Down. Mummy Fix.”

Marley trusted me completely.

And I mean completely.

Cocker spaniels have those beautiful floppy ears, but unfortunately, they’re also prone to ear problems.

Marley had his share.

Sometimes there were infections.

Sometimes little injuries.

Sometimes things that needed cleaning or medication.

And I’d say:

“Lie down. Mummy fix.”

And he’d lie down.

Just like that.

He could hate the medicine.

He could know it might sting.

But he’d let me do whatever needed doing.

Because it was Mama.

And Mama would fix it.

Sometimes he’d flinch.

Sometimes he’d look at me with those enormous eyes.

But he never stopped trusting me.

He didn’t understand medicine.

He didn’t understand why something that hurt might be necessary.

But he understood me.

And somehow, that was enough.

Those three little words became part of our life together.

Lie down. Mummy fix.

I didn’t know then how much those words would one day break my heart.

The Nights When I Needed Him

There was a time in my life when I was very unwell.

A time when the world felt frightening and uncertain.

Some nights I’d wake up anxious, panting, unable to settle myself.

Sometimes I couldn’t explain what was happening inside me.

Sometimes I didn’t have the words.

But I had Marley.

I’d lie down beside him.

Feel his warm little body against mine.

Run my hand through his soft fur.

Listen to him breathing.

And slowly, the world would become a little less frightening.

He didn’t ask questions.

He didn’t need explanations.

He didn’t tell me to be strong.

He didn’t expect me to smile or pretend everything was alright.

He was simply there.

Always there.

If I wasn’t well, Marley wasn’t himself either.

He seemed to know.

He’d stay closer.

Watch me.

Follow me even more than usual, if that was humanly possible.

Sometimes I wondered who needed whom more.

Because Marley couldn’t bear being away from me.

But the truth is, I couldn’t bear being away from him either.

We needed each other.

He was my comfort.

My constant.

My little heartbeat beside me.

And when the world felt too much, sometimes all I needed was to lie next to my dog.

Nothing more.

Just Marley.

He didn’t care whether I looked beautiful or looked like absolute hell.

Whether I was laughing, crying, frightened, angry, or exhausted.

He didn’t care whether I’d achieved anything that day.

He didn’t care what anyone thought of me.

I was Mama.

And that was enough.

In a world where love sometimes comes with conditions, Marley loved me simply because I existed.

And I loved him with everything I had.

The Day Mama Couldn’t Fix It

We had nine beautiful years.

Nine years of laughter.

Nine years of ridiculous adventures.

Nine years of stolen food, squeaky toys, Halloween costumes, and little footsteps following mine.

Nine years of a love so complete that I never really imagined life without it.

And then Marley became sick.

Very sick.

He underwent a biopsy to find out what was wrong.

During that procedure, the surgeon removed fourteen centimetres of his intestine.

My beautiful little boy.

He started chemotherapy.

But he only managed one session.

He was suffering.

And suddenly, I was faced with something I couldn’t bear.

For nine years, whenever something hurt, I’d say:

Lie down. Mummy fix.

And he’d trust me.

Every time.

But this time, Mama couldn’t fix it.

No matter how much I loved him.

No matter how desperately I wanted to.

No matter what I would have given.

I couldn’t make him better.

And that broke something inside me.

Because Marley trusted me.

He trusted me to make things better.

And this time, I couldn’t.

I remember looking at him and wishing, with every part of me, that love could be enough to save him.

Because if love could have saved Marley Jean, that dog would have lived forever.

But his little body was tired.

And the hardest thing I had to accept was that keeping him with me was no longer the same as doing what was best for him.

I wasn’t ready.

God, I wasn’t ready.

But I couldn’t ask him to keep suffering simply because I couldn’t bear to let him go.

Our Last Two Weeks

I took two weeks to be with him.

Two weeks where the rest of the world could wait.

I made his basket beautiful with flowers.

He had special treats and all the things he’d always wanted, even things that had once been forbidden.

The ordinary rules didn’t seem important anymore.

I wanted those days to be his.

Comfort.

Love.

Everything I could give him.

And me.

Always me.

Just as he’d always wanted.

I watched him sleep.

I stroked those beautiful floppy ears.

I memorised his face.

And sometimes, when he wasn’t looking, I cried.

Because I knew.

Soon, I would have to wake up in a world where Marley wasn’t waiting for me.

And I had absolutely no idea how to do that.

When the day came, I held him.

The little dog who had followed me everywhere for nine years didn’t have to follow me anywhere anymore.

I was right there.

I held him as the final injection was given.

I told him I loved him.

Again.

And again.

And again.

I wanted my voice to be the last thing he heard.

I wanted him to feel my arms around him.

I wanted him to know that Mama was there.

Right until the end.

He had trusted me his whole life.

With his little injuries.

His fears.

His comfort.

His whole heart.

And in that final moment, he trusted me again.

Oh, Marley.

Even then, you trusted Mama.

I hope you knew I wasn’t giving up on you.

I hope you knew how desperately I wanted to keep you.

How much I loved you.

How sorry I was that Mama couldn’t fix this one.

I held him until he was gone.

And a part of me went with him.

The Silence He Left Behind

It’s been fifteen months.

And sometimes, without thinking, I still look down.

At my feet.

Beside the bed.

Towards the doorway.

The places where Marley always was.

For nine years, I never had to look for him.

He was simply there.

If I moved, he moved.

If I stopped, he stopped.

And now I can walk around the dining table a hundred times.

Nobody follows.

I can get out of bed in the middle of the night.

Nobody comes with me.

I can say, “Mummy fix.”

But the little boy who understood those words isn’t here to hear them.

And that’s the part nobody prepares you for.

Not just the goodbye.

The thousands of tiny moments afterwards, when love reaches for someone who isn’t there.

People talk about losing a pet.

But that word, pet, feels so terribly small for what Marley was to me.

He wasn’t just a dog who lived in our house.

He was part of how I lived.

Part of my daily routine.

Part of how I felt safe.

Part of how I breathed through difficult moments.

He was my shadow.

My comfort.

My little heartbeat beside me.

And then suddenly, he wasn’t.

I still don’t know how to describe that absence.

It’s not just missing someone.

It’s having all this love and nowhere familiar to put it.

Sometimes I wonder whether he carried some of my suffering with him.

I know that’s something I can never truly know.

But when you have a bond like ours, your heart searches for explanations.

Perhaps it’s simply because he was so much a part of me that his suffering felt like my own.

I don’t know.

I only know that losing him took a piece of me I haven’t found again.

And Then Came Kai

We have Kai now.

Another little soul.

Another personality.

Another dog with his own way of loving and being loved.

And sometimes I wonder whether I’ve kept a little part of myself guarded.

Whether I’m afraid to give my heart that completely again.

Because now I know the cost of losing a love like Marley’s.

I don’t want to be unfair to Kai.

He deserves to be loved for who he is.

Not compared with a dog who came before him.

But grief is a strange thing.

It doesn’t always leave when someone new arrives.

And loving again doesn’t mean the old love disappears.

I’m still learning that.

Marley was Marley.

Kai is Kai.

And perhaps my heart is simply trying to find its way through loving one little boy who is here, while missing another who never will be again.

If I Could Have One More Day

Marley, if I could have just one more day with you, I wouldn’t ask for anything extraordinary.

I wouldn’t take you anywhere special.

I wouldn’t buy you anything.

I’d just stay home.

I’d make myself a coffee and let you sit at my feet.

I’d walk around the table just to hear you following me.

I’d let you steal a little chicken.

I’d find that ridiculous plastic duck and watch you run away from it.

I’d put you in another silly costume and laugh while you posed proudly for Mama.

And when the evening came, I’d lie down beside you.

I’d bury my face in your soft fur.

I’d listen to you breathing.

And I’d stay there.

Because I know now that the ordinary moments were never ordinary at all.

They were my life with you.

And they were beautiful.

Marley Jean, Was That You? ❤️

So yesterday, when the wind chime outside my bedroom rang, I stopped.

I listened.

And I thought of you.

My little Marley Jean.

My food thief.

My chocolate connoisseur who wouldn’t touch the coconut ones.

My ridiculous boy with green plastic hanging out of his backside.

My brave little postman-hater who was terrified of a plastic duck.

My Spock.

My policeman.

My unicorn.

My award-winning Where’s Wally.

My soft, cuddly, clumsy little boy who didn’t have one mean fur on his body.

My shadow.

My comfort.

My safe place.

The little dog I never wanted.

The one who chose me.

And the one I would choose again.

A thousand times.

Even knowing how the story ends.

Because if someone offered me the chance to avoid this pain by never having known you, I wouldn’t take it.

Not for a second.

I’d take the nine years.

Every ridiculous moment.

Every stolen pizza crust.

Every veterinary emergency.

Every costume.

Every sleepless night.

Every little paw following me around the house.

I’d take all of it again.

Even the goodbye.

Because loving you was worth it.

You were worth it.

I don’t know whether you visited me yesterday, Marley.

I don’t know whether that wind chime was a sign.

But I know that for a moment, I felt close to you.

And I wanted so badly to reach down and touch your beautiful head.

To feel your soft ears.

To look into those eyes.

To hear your little footsteps coming towards me.

And to say:

“Come here, Marley. Mama’s here.”

But perhaps, my boy, you’ve never really left me.

Perhaps you’re still there in every ridiculous photograph.

In the memories that make me laugh through tears.

In the wind chime outside my bedroom.

And in the part of me that will always belong to you.

You loved me when I couldn’t always love myself.

You stayed when I was frightened.

You made me laugh when I didn’t feel like laughing.

And you taught me that sometimes the purest love in the world comes wrapped in floppy ears, clumsy paws, and an absolutely enormous appetite.

You weren’t the cleverest dog, Marley Jean.

But you knew how to love better than anyone.

And I was the luckiest mama in the world to be loved by you.

I miss you, my beautiful boy.

Every single day.

And wherever you are, I hope there’s pizza, chicken, mussels, an endless supply of squeaky toys, and absolutely no plastic ducks.

I hope you’re running freely.

I hope nothing hurts anymore.

And I hope somehow you know that Mama still talks about you.

Still laughs at your photographs.

Still misses you so much that sometimes the tears arrive before I even realise I’m crying.

You were my Marley Jean.

My ridiculous, gentle, food-stealing, postman-hating little boy.

My shadow.

My comfort.

My safe place.

And the dog who chose me when I didn’t even know I needed him.

I used to think you couldn’t bear being away from me.

Now I understand something.

I was the one who didn’t know how to be without you.

And I’m still learning.

So if that was you yesterday, my darling boy, thank you for visiting Mama.

I’m sorry I couldn’t fix everything.

I’m sorry our nine years weren’t longer.

But please know this.

Of all the places you could have gone, of all the people you could have chosen, you chose me.

And being your mama was one of the greatest privileges of my life.

You spent your whole life following me, Marley.

And for the rest of mine, I’ll carry you.

Forever your Mama. ❤️🐾

— Jo