"Sparkie's swansong". The subject title in Keira's email said it all. One long battle and numerous updates finally led to the inevitable: Sparkie had died. Peacefully, she said, surrounded by family, close friends and his favourite fluffy toy cat Bobo.
An overwhelming wave of grief and compassion hit Sally. She did not know Sparkie, having only met him twice in his short nine years of life, but her heart went out to Keira. An old friend, once close during the early days in the city, now more distant since she decamped to the country in pursuit of a more earthy lifestyle with her pretentious husband. But still a friend nonetheless. Tears welled up in Sally's eyes.
Do you ever recover from the loss of your beloved pet?
Setting up a fund for donations was even more straightforward than Sally had anticipated. She was virtually working on auto-pilot, her basic sense of doing what she believed was right taking over from the initial compassion. Her email to all the names on the circular list outlined both her feelings and her proposed plan. Her only request: that it be kept - momentarily - secret from Keira. No need to detract attention from her mourning or impose on this very private and tragic circumstance.
Sally was encouraged by the response. A mere half hour after sending out the email - blind copied to all addressees to retain some degree of privacy - over two dozen people answered, praising her idea and thanking her for taking the initiative. The money started flowing into the fund account she had set up. Before the day was out it had already topped £1000.
One email had particularly touched her. A friend of Keira's told her how he had also lost a beloved pet some eight years earlier. Keira's husband, Randolph, had provided enormous support back then, and the fund that had been set up in his pet's memory, he stated, still gave him strength today. "Blessed are those who truly understand the value of animal companionship," he wrote. "What you are doing is a wonderful idea, and one that I applaud. Thank you."
The email exchange however that seemed to trigger the downward spiral - now that she thought about it - had also started innocently enough. A woman by the name of Lavinia queried who Sally was. What was her connection with Keira and Randolph? Sally had replied in all honesty. "Keira was one of the first friends I made when I moved to the City," she wrote. "We have known each other for 17 years, shared many experiences, been to each other's weddings."
She openly admitted that their contact had waned somewhat since Keira moved 'to the country' some six years earlier, but that did not stop Sally loving her as a true friend. They had last seen each other eighteen months ago.
Lavinia wrote back soon after. She and her husband would be making a contribution to another fund, one already sanctioned by Keira and Randolph. Sally knew it already, it was called 'Sparkie-baby's waggy tail fund', it's catchphrase "Keeping pooches in the lifestyle to which they are accustomed".
Sally was a little taken back by the tone of Lavinia's reply. She appreciated the honesty of this woman's decision and respected her for it, but she also wondered whether there was a hidden message in there somewhere. She did not have to wait much longer to find out.
An email from Keira. "Emailing our friends", it was entitled. Sally opened it. The words quickly became a blur, ".... number of phone calls..... brought to our attention... scam... rescind your email... desist from your actions... do not contact again..."
Sally was too stunned and shocked to move. She sat on her chair, totally immobile, a flurry of thoughts crossing her mind.
Scam? Were people truly that stupid, she wondered? My name, contact details and explanation of what she was looking to achieve had accompanied the original email shot. she had replied to queries and the support had been quite startling. Her only request to keep the fund-raising secret from Keira had been totally disrespected by a couple of individuals who thought this was a scam. "And I can guess who was one of them," she suddenly said out loud.
A scam! At a time like this? She thought about the words she had used. Were they misleading? "Love and nurture - remembering Sparkie". Money to be collected and then passed on to Keira and Randolph at a later date so they could decide how best to use it.
"A memorial, a communal village drinking bowl for dogs in Sparkie's name.... maybe even a camping holiday to remember what Sparkie loved most about being outdoors, so his spirit could live on..."
Sally felt upset that her good intentions could be interpreted so perversely. The tone of Keira's email was glacial. The notion that Sally might have inadvertently caused more grief than was already the case was a very bitter pill to swallow. Maybe she had been naive. Maybe she had overstepped the line amidst her good intentions. Maybe she had intruded on a very private sadness and been unnecessarily clumsy.
Whatever the reason, one thing was assured: Sally's confidence was shattered.
An overwhelming wave of grief and compassion hit Sally. She did not know Sparkie, having only met him twice in his short nine years of life, but her heart went out to Keira. An old friend, once close during the early days in the city, now more distant since she decamped to the country in pursuit of a more earthy lifestyle with her pretentious husband. But still a friend nonetheless. Tears welled up in Sally's eyes.
Do you ever recover from the loss of your beloved pet?
Setting up a fund for donations was even more straightforward than Sally had anticipated. She was virtually working on auto-pilot, her basic sense of doing what she believed was right taking over from the initial compassion. Her email to all the names on the circular list outlined both her feelings and her proposed plan. Her only request: that it be kept - momentarily - secret from Keira. No need to detract attention from her mourning or impose on this very private and tragic circumstance.
Sally was encouraged by the response. A mere half hour after sending out the email - blind copied to all addressees to retain some degree of privacy - over two dozen people answered, praising her idea and thanking her for taking the initiative. The money started flowing into the fund account she had set up. Before the day was out it had already topped £1000.
One email had particularly touched her. A friend of Keira's told her how he had also lost a beloved pet some eight years earlier. Keira's husband, Randolph, had provided enormous support back then, and the fund that had been set up in his pet's memory, he stated, still gave him strength today. "Blessed are those who truly understand the value of animal companionship," he wrote. "What you are doing is a wonderful idea, and one that I applaud. Thank you."
The email exchange however that seemed to trigger the downward spiral - now that she thought about it - had also started innocently enough. A woman by the name of Lavinia queried who Sally was. What was her connection with Keira and Randolph? Sally had replied in all honesty. "Keira was one of the first friends I made when I moved to the City," she wrote. "We have known each other for 17 years, shared many experiences, been to each other's weddings."
She openly admitted that their contact had waned somewhat since Keira moved 'to the country' some six years earlier, but that did not stop Sally loving her as a true friend. They had last seen each other eighteen months ago.
Lavinia wrote back soon after. She and her husband would be making a contribution to another fund, one already sanctioned by Keira and Randolph. Sally knew it already, it was called 'Sparkie-baby's waggy tail fund', it's catchphrase "Keeping pooches in the lifestyle to which they are accustomed".
Sally was a little taken back by the tone of Lavinia's reply. She appreciated the honesty of this woman's decision and respected her for it, but she also wondered whether there was a hidden message in there somewhere. She did not have to wait much longer to find out.
An email from Keira. "Emailing our friends", it was entitled. Sally opened it. The words quickly became a blur, ".... number of phone calls..... brought to our attention... scam... rescind your email... desist from your actions... do not contact again..."
Sally was too stunned and shocked to move. She sat on her chair, totally immobile, a flurry of thoughts crossing her mind.
Scam? Were people truly that stupid, she wondered? My name, contact details and explanation of what she was looking to achieve had accompanied the original email shot. she had replied to queries and the support had been quite startling. Her only request to keep the fund-raising secret from Keira had been totally disrespected by a couple of individuals who thought this was a scam. "And I can guess who was one of them," she suddenly said out loud.
A scam! At a time like this? She thought about the words she had used. Were they misleading? "Love and nurture - remembering Sparkie". Money to be collected and then passed on to Keira and Randolph at a later date so they could decide how best to use it.
"A memorial, a communal village drinking bowl for dogs in Sparkie's name.... maybe even a camping holiday to remember what Sparkie loved most about being outdoors, so his spirit could live on..."
Sally felt upset that her good intentions could be interpreted so perversely. The tone of Keira's email was glacial. The notion that Sally might have inadvertently caused more grief than was already the case was a very bitter pill to swallow. Maybe she had been naive. Maybe she had overstepped the line amidst her good intentions. Maybe she had intruded on a very private sadness and been unnecessarily clumsy.
Whatever the reason, one thing was assured: Sally's confidence was shattered.