I work at Mdzananda Animal Welfare Clinic in Khayelitsha. I was in theatre one morning, when an animal welfare assistant called me to look at a dog that had been brought in.

A female stray, medium Africanus cross, with some pit bull. Maybe 10 months old. Mange so bad, there was not one hair left on her body. She looked like Gollum. 

The staff named her Cutie. A barrel on four legs, with a squint in her left eye. An endearing overbite and a big smile. Her hair grew back. Tan coloured. No one adopted her.

The beauty hidden inside Cutie was not obvious at first glance. But for those with eyes to see, it was easy.

She resonated with me instantly. She became one of the clinic pack. Five unadoptable misfits. Zen Cat, Bones, AJ, Liquorice, and now Cutie. 

I performed her spay. We connected daily during her time there. She greeted me when I arrived in the mornings. We took breaks from the chaos together — and it’s often chaos there. It’s like a field hospital in a war zone.

Someone yells “incoming!” and the broken animals come in, in various degrees of distress. We do our best, and leave a lot up to God for help.

So these breaks with Cutie were essential. I would sit against the wall in the courtyard, and she would put her 20kg weight onto my lap. We’d comfort each other and I’d feel fortified, ready to dance in the chaos again. She lived at the clinic for three years.

One day, I arrived at work and saw she was limping. A torn cruciate ligament. We raised funds through our supporters and got a specialist to repair it. She was also donated physio rehab at the Blue Cross.

This meant bringing her from Khayelitsha through to the southern suburbs twice a week. It made sense to let her stay at my place in Mowbray, rather than the back and forth.

You know how the story goes. Cutie had left her Khayelitsha Clinic life forever. A whole other side of her personality came out. She blossomed before my eyes. She started smiling more. Curious about everything. She would scream with delight for walk time. She adored nature.

From a dusty clinic courtyard, she discovered the forest, the beach and ocean, the mountain. Trees with squirrels. Streams with frogs and tadpoles. Grasslands with moles and mice.

She embodied her fierce huntress. Only caught one mouse in her entire career. And a bullfrog, but it got away. She may have eaten a few tadpoles. Happy to shove her head underwater to snap at them.

She also loved trumpets, howling along whenever they played. Emotional support was innate in her being. She would sit on the lap of any friend who came over in need. She sat on many laps.

She had the greatest heart and the biggest smile, the kind only dogs are capable of having.

There were tiny signs in the beginning. She would get tired and need to rest on walks. I put it down to her getting old. Then she began to collapse on her walk and had to rest longer.

I checked her bloods. It didn’t look good. An ultrasound scan revealed cancer. It was too late to do anything. Nature would take its course. She declined rapidly after that.

Every walk with Cutie became precious. I never knew if it was her last one. Her spirit stayed strong all the way. She hunted frogs in streams right till the last walk.

My heart broke often looking at her. To a dog, life is what it is. Four legs one day, three the next. Just get with it, tail wagging.  

An animal communicator friend told me, close to the end, that Cutie had said she was ready. She wanted to go with a sunrise.

One morning at 4am, I woke to her collapsing in the passage. She was so weak. She looked at me with those eyes. It killed me. You never want to make the decision. Today, though, it was time.

I took her outside as the sun was rising and we enjoyed the dawn together. Then I helped her pass. She gave one final little howl and went where I could not yet follow.

I wrapped her body in a cloth from India. A gift from the Divine Mother. I laid her body in the ground. It was beautiful and sad. I will miss her forever, my sweet Cutie monster.

I hope when I follow her on that path, that she is there on the other side, to sit on my lap, with all the other great dogs I’ve loved and had the privilege to share life with.