And Then There Were Three

One of the most exciting things for us about moving out of the city and away from rented houses  was the prospect of let ownership. I have since childhood always been a dog person, and frankly, since being in Canada, I’ve had the longest periods of my life without the companionship of dogs. Sandy is a cat person, and gew up with many dearly loved cats.

So when we landed in Ontario in January of 2024, our gracious hosts, Bob and Melinda, had a cat who lived in their garage. She was somewhat older (about 5), but had a habit of being aggressive towards their two daughters, and therefore has been relegated to the garage. 

As we fed and cared for their dogs while they vacationed away, we had to access the garage daily, and Sandy found himself quickly bonding with the cat when we’d go to feed the dogs. 

Bob has been trying to rehome the cat, but had thus far been unsuccessful. And asked if we wanted to take her. While reticent at first, Sandy quickly convinced me to agree, and so we adopted ‘Pollock’ as Sandy renamed her (after the artist).

She was a beautiful calico, and when the day came to move our camper to our land, Pollock came with us. That was the same day we adopted Remy into our lives. 

We had seen a post on a local community group about a rescue dog who needed a home. The goofy character of this dog shone through in the pics and we reached out to the poster, Amy. 

She explained that Remy was a rescue from a northern reserve, and had been severely underweight (about 25lbs under) and he had been with her a few weeks. We arranged to meet him, and drove from Bob and Medlindas to the designated meeting spot. 

Remy was boisterous and excitable and absolutely adorable. No aggression, but a typical boxer in his energy. He is a boxer cross lab, but there is certainly more boxer in him. We were almost instantly besotted with him. Especially me, as his colouring reminded me of my boernoel cross boxer, Roger, whom I had had to rehome when I left South Africa so many years ago.

We decided Remy was the dog for us. We arranged with Amy that we could pick up Remy in a few weeks when we relocated the camper to our land. And, after uncoupling the camper and clearing out as much as possible from the truck, I left Sandy and Pollock in the camper and drove to pick up Remy alone.

He was excited and boisterous the whole way back, and honestly, wouldn’t (or couldn’t) calm down in the truck on the way back to the camper. Frankly, it was a bit of a scary drive. But we arrived back in one piece.

Over the next few days and weeks, both Pollock and Remy cemented their places in our hearts. Remy excitable and energetic, and Pollock somewhat aloof, but happy to be petted or cuddled, until she had had enough.

Our little family of four was complete.

When we went out to work on the property, Pollock would follow behind to scout around and observe our work, like a site Foreman. Remy would try and chase her, but she would cleverly stay just out of reach of his tether while we worked. This was a constant scenario for them, her always just out of his grasp.

Not to say they didn’t have their battles. In a small camper such as ours, there isn’t a lot of space to stay out of each other’s way. And a few times Remy would try play with Pollock, but she’d have none of it, and ended up putting him very firmly in his place.

On other occasions, we’d find them actually snuggled up together. Remy has a healthy reverence for her space, and generally, she for his, although often when he was lying on the sofa, she’d cautiously climb up and ease herself down to cuddle with him.

Fiercely independent, Pollock enjoyed being outside. Frequently meowing at the door to be let free to explore. She had a few favorite spots to hang out during the day, sometimes with us deep in the property, other times quietly observing from a shaded spot near the camper. 

One Thursday we observed her struggling to climb up to our bed, a feat she would usually accomplish with one leap. We helped her up, but didn’t think much of it. That was until she jumped down from the bed and fell. She was walking as if limping, and couldn’t leap up to her favourite spot on the camper bench seat near the table, instead, awkwardly trying to climb up.

We inspected her closely for signs of injury or a fight or anything unusual, but found nothing, and decided to keep a closer eye on her. Over the next few days it got progressively worse. She has less and less mobility in her hind legs. Still there were no signs or injury, just legs that looked like they wouldn’t hold her weight.

Being as far north and remote as we are, finding a vet is difficult. They are few and far between, and one is met with all sorts of roadblocks. At some you have to be an existing client to get an appointment, even for an emergency, but they aren’t accepting new clients. At others, the vet is only in attendance a few days a month. All of them are well over an hour drive from where we are.

We finally managed to find a vet in Engelhart who would see her as an emergency the next day. We arranged a ride with a dear friend, and early the next morning set off for the vet.

Pollock rode quietly without much movement the whole way, nestled in a box on a soft comforter.  Remy, as always, was just excited to be in a truck on the road, bouncing around as he always does when we go anywhere.

The vet staff were super friendly and examined Pollock. The vet assistant took her vitals, and the vet was very thorough in his questions and examination. He ordered blood work, and X-rays to rule out injury or broken bones, etc. and said he’d call us in a few hours.

Being that Englehart is almost 2 hours drive, we parked near a park and chatted, letting Remy enjoy the park and meet some local kids who thought he was adorable.

When the vet called, he went through all her blood work, nothing that pretty much everything was in the normal range, although some markers were elevated, indicating dehydration, which we already assumed, as her food and water intake the last few days had diminished. The x-rays showed no broken bones or fractures, but it did show that she was constipated. He had ordered fluids for the dehydration and pain meds, and said he’d check back in an hour to see her progress.

An hour passed. Then two. After almost 3 hours we headed back to the clinic for an update. After a wait, the vet called us into a consultation room, where Pollock lay, still in her box, but with a drip in her paw and a cone around her neck. The vet went through her blood work and X-rays again, and then said there were two possibilities with what she was experiencing.

Either she had a spinal injury we couldn’t see, which would require and MRI, or she had Feline Aortic Thromboembolism (FATE), a blood clot affecting cats that block the worst where it branches off to the legs. The matter would require an ultrasound to determine, and surgery to remove, however, the surgery is exceptionally delicate, and not guaranteed. Furthermore, she would require 24/7 care and supervision.

To say we were devastated would be an understatement. We briefly discussed our options. We couldn’t afford the additional procedures, but also did not want her to suffer needlessly. Very tearfully, we made the decision to have her euthanised. 

We remained with her while the procedure was done, both honestly sobbing. At at 3:55pm on Wednesday, 23 July, 2025, Pollock crossed the rainbow bridge in our arms. 

We brought her home to bury on the property. Which we did the next day, in the rain, under a small spruce tree near where her favourite spots were to observe our work. 

The days since have been a blur. Our pain ebbs and flows, and sometimes overwhelmingly overtakes us. Watching Remy look for her, sniff her spots and try find her is heartbreaking. We find ourselves looking for her too, only to quickly realise the truth. 

Our hearts are broken and we are feeling lost without her. In a short year and half, she became so engrained as a part of our little family. It feels like losing a limb. But life must continue and time will heal the wound. 

Our smaller family of three will persevere.