The world has not stopped

It was just a dog is a sensitive report about sadness, love, care, and the relationship with beings who shared their lives with us. The book is published in translation by Samuel Marcin and with graphic design by Barbara Kowalczuk. You can support the creation of the book here.

Sister was helping at the Warsaw shelter Na Paluchu and asked me if I could take care of an approximately one-year-old wild female dog. Tymid almost never left her cage. At that time, shelters had much worse conditions than today. The female dog was sitting in the corner buried in hay. She refused to go for a walk. The staff lent me a crate in which she felt safe.

In my apartment, she chose a spot behind the washing machine, so I moved the appliance away from the wall to the middle of the bathroom. I piled pillows, dog toys there. For almost half a year, it was Tymid's hideout.

She was probably beaten. When she saw the leash, she soiled herself out of fear. We went for our first walk almost after a month, once the calming medication took effect, and even then at three or four in the morning so we wouldn't meet anyone. And yet, she was frightened by a falling leaf. The walk lasted only a moment. Our first trip outside the city was after several years. The journey to Masuria was a big challenge. Three hours from Warsaw, but it took us twice as long. I had to scrub the car from her vomit. But at that moment, I suddenly saw a completely different dog: with a wagging tail, curious, eager to play.

It turned out that Tymid is a traveling dog. We completed the Camino de Santiago route – we walked more than six hundred twenty kilometers, it took us a month. We went to the Beskids, the Krkonoše, explored the Slovak Tatras, and together we conquered the Main Sudeten Trail. We visited Spain, France, North Macedonia, Montenegro, Germany, Albania. We traveled to Tyrol and Venice by train. She loved trains.

Tymid was with me for eleven years when I noticed she was somehow often pressing her paw to her eye. The veterinarian – an ophthalmologist diagnosed her with inflammation and prescribed antibiotics. After four weeks, it improved, but Tymid's paw kept returning to her eye. Further examinations revealed a small growth, which was removed with a laser. It was a tumor, malignant, but removed with a large margin. A quarter of a year passed, and her paw again touched her eye. This time, something appeared on the third eyelid. Surgery again. The histopathological examination of the removed eyelid confirmed a tumor, but the prognosis was good.

Three months later, we went to Croatia, from where I planned to continue towards Serbia and further. When Tymid again started rubbing her eye with her paw, we returned to Poland for examination. Another tumor. The doctor recommended a more demanding procedure, which involved removing the eyeball along with part of the surrounding soft tissues and bones.

Tymid recovered remarkably well. After removing the stitches and consulting with an oncologist, who reassured me that there were no contraindications, we headed to Croatia and then to Italy, where one of the best veterinary oncology clinics in Europe is located. Follow-up examinations showed very good results, so we continued our journey and went to Montenegro. There, I noticed Tymid's skull was slightly deformed. According to the local veterinarian, it could have been a consequence of the surgery; she had lost her eye, muscles, and parts of bones. After some time, already in Macedonia, I felt a thickening on her neck. I sought an oncologist…

And that was the end of our journey.

Already in Poland, her doctors took samples from the lumps on her neck and from that small change on her head. The result – a very aggressive tumor. I asked the oncologist what now. He replied that only palliative treatment was now an option.

We fought for Tymid and her comfort for several months. The doctor even recommended us special medicines from the other side of the world that would ease her pain and allow her to enjoy life as long as possible.

She lived a few more months without suffering.

After her departure, I often lay on the floor curled into a ball without knowing how I got there. I saw the world as if through glass. I was angry that it didn't stop when Tymid died.

Everything drove me crazy. When I was waiting at a crosswalk for the green light and someone next to me was talking on the phone, I felt like hitting them in the shoulder to make them be quiet. Every sound irritated me. I wanted to push the woman standing in line in front of me in the store because she was moving too slowly.

On the anniversary of Tymid's death, I bought a plane ticket to the other side of the world to be as far away from here as possible.

But you can't escape from sadness.