Not forgotten

A while ago I realised it had been some time since I’d seen Sally out and about. Sally who lives in our street with her dog, Millie.

She had been getting a bit forgetful with the onset of dementia. A few times she would ask about the girls as if we’d only just had them. I think she was always a bit surprised that I knew who Millie was.

Then, just as I was getting really worried that something awful had happened to them both, I saw Sally leaving her house one afternoon in the company of someone I didn’t recognise. And that was it.

The next thing we knew her house was up for sale and a gradual clean up of the back garden ensued. I know about the clean up because the gate was open and I could see the changes occurring as the days went by.

Obviously something had happened. We hoped that both Sally and Millie were okay, where ever they were. Then, today, Neighbour Dave explained what had happened.

Sally had suddenly taken a turn for the much worse. She had no idea who people were and had gone into a home in Haslemere. She had even forgotten who Millie was. I find this the saddest thing. Poor Millie. How could a dog possibly understand when an owner doesn’t know who it is? I can’t imagine forgetting the girls but how would they feel?

Sally and Millie were inseparable. They would go on many walks every day. I’d see them in the park, a happy pair, both devoted to the only other company they had. I’m fairly certain that Millie never complained if Sally forgot she’d already taken her for a walk and they went again.

Anyway, we were very worried about Millie but Dave told us that she’d been taken on by a distant relative and was very happy…though, I assume, missing Sally.

Sally, meanwhile had rapidly regressed to the mental age of a nine year old. The only good thing about that is that she doesn’t remember anything and, I imagine, is happy in the delusion. I have to hope so, anyway.

The mind is so fragile, so unpredictably complex that it makes me wonder how anyone is completely sane.