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In this deeply personal reflection, our CEO Charles Cosgrave shares the story of Nelly – a small rescue dog who became an inseparable part of his family for 14 wonderful years. Written in the days following her loss, this piece is a heartfelt tribute to the quiet, everyday moments that make our pets family, and to the profound bond we share with them. It’s also a reminder of something we see every day at Village Vets: that every pet who comes through our doors is someone’s “one-in-a-million.”
I first came across Nelly 14 years ago, when she was a tiny pup in the Meath pound. She was bouncy, energetic, and full of affection; barely 2kg, with huge elephant ears, a very long tail, and big bulging eyes, all wildly out of proportion with the rest of her tiny body. But it was her energy and her warmth that drew me in. I brought her home to my wife Mairead “just for one night” to see if she’d fit in…she never left.
Nelly went on to become the fabric of our home. When our children came along, she became part of their lives too, photographed together from the very start, going everywhere together. She rode in the bottom of buggies, sat in the back seat once she was begrudgingly evicted from the front, and was present for all the big and small moments that make up family life: Christmas mornings, first days at school, last days at school, communions, confirmations, birthdays, Halloween outfits, Easter treats, Christmas presents and of course, her own birthday presents.
The kids still hold me personally responsible for the fact that we couldn’t properly celebrate Mother’s Day on her behalf… though being neutered probably played a role in that too!
Nelly was that special kind of dog who weaves herself into everyone’s life in a home. She meant something different to each of us, because each of us had a completely unique relationship with her. For anyone who thinks dogs can’t smile, they’ve never come home after a bad day to a dog that was that happy to see them. They’ve never been woken by a dog jumping on the bed when they absolutely knew they weren’t supposed to be there. They’ve never asked, “Do you want to go for a drive?” or ever said the ‘W’ word out loud.
As a family, we knew her stares. We knew the difference between the “I want food” stare and the “I need to go out” stare. And beyond that, we knew her in all the tiny, everyday ways that only come with time. We knew her smell. We knew the difference between her bark and Jack’s (our other dog). We knew the sound of her feet click-clacking across the kitchen floor.
She knew the sound of the different cars coming into the driveway. She knew the sound of a yoghurt being opened from the farthest corner of the house. She knew exactly where to hide in the car so she wouldn’t be found until she appeared ten minutes into the journey. And she knew where to hide in each of the children’s bedrooms at night, again so she wouldn’t be found which usually extended my own bedtime by about half an hour as I went room to room trying to find her without waking the kids.
She was a one-in-a-million dog, our one-in-a-million dog and no one else will ever fully understand that
But the thing is, every client who walks through the doors of Village Vets feels exactly the same way about their own pet.
They could all write the same words I’m writing now. And that’s why I feel so privileged to work alongside all of you because we understand that. We empathise with it. We sit with it. And we care for those pets, and those families, who trust us with what matters most to them.
Nelly wasn’t the easiest patient, I’ll be the first to admit that, and she did make her way around a fair few Village Vets clinics over the years. I shared the Nelly experience (or the pain, some might say) quite widely. But I will be forever grateful to each and every one of you, because for once, I was on the other side of the consult table. I was the anxious pet owner. The worried client. And the care you showed Nelly and our family meant more than I can properly put into words, especially over the last few weeks when the outcome became clear.
I will be honest about how hard it was to put my own dog to sleep. Part of me thinks it might have been easier to come down one morning and find her in her bed, having passed away quietly during the night. But then I don’t know if the shock of that would have been any easier to carry. Is it better to choose the moment and hold them as they go, or to wake up to a goodbye you never got to say? I genuinely don’t know the answer, and I probably never will. All I know is that this was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
To the Sandyford team where she was neutered many years ago; to Dundrum and Clonsilla for one of her many dentals; to Dunboyne for blood samples, vaccinations, and patience; to Ashbourne, where she was microchipped (twice); and especially to the out-of-hours teams in Ashbourne (alongside Dunboyne) in recent weeks, a huge thank you. Truly. You helped make the end of Nelly’s journey that little bit easier…
Nelly was a wonderful dog, the best companion we could ask for, and an irreplaceable member of our family. She will be dearly missed.
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