The Da Vinci Story – A Story of Unconditional Love

The SAVF student bursary for a fourth year veterinary science student is called the Da Vinci Bursary.  Here’s why:

This is a story of unconditional love, true affection and absolute devotion.  A story about an adorable Labrador who took over our lives and our hearts, who spent 10 glorious years and seven months with us and gave us such immense joy and pleasure.  The story of Da Vinci!

This story celebrates his life, his love and the times he spent with us.  A story to keep Da Vinci alive in our hearts and to honour his memory.

He was born on the 12th September 2011 and departed this life on Monday 25th April 2022.  He spent his last days at the Rosmead Animal Hospital where he had been treated for nine days for unusually high levels of sodium.  Dr Malan van Zyl diagnosed it as a tumour on the adrenal gland resulting in hyperaldosteronism.  The initial diagnosis from other vets was hyper-thyroidism.  We were told that surgery was the only option but to ensure that it was possible, CT scans would have to be taken under general anaesthetic. 

Dr Malan cautioned that Da Vinci was very weak and may not survive the scans.  My wife Avril and I were devastated, shattered and extremely saddened.  It happened far too quickly and his deterioration was very fast.  You can’t in life be called upon to make a bigger decision than deciding to end the life of a loved one.  Covid taught us to listen to the scientists.  In Da Vinci’s case, to listen to the specialist who told us there was no hope and to put him out of his pain.  DaVinci’s condition came up as “critical” on a website to gauge your pet’s health.  So we went with the specialist.  That was a big mindset change for me because I wanted to nurse him to the end.

I never imagined that I could feel so much pain over the passing of an animal.  He was so much more than a dog or a pet – a true companion going all over with us, sleeping at night with us in our bed and occupying such a big part of our lives.  He’s left a huge void in our home, in our lives and in our hearts.  It was so cruel, so unfair of life to remove him prematurely. 

He arrived at the end of October 2011, a gift from our daughter Djemielah after our black cat Snuffie Jnr got knocked over in the busy main road outside our house. 

This is Djemielah’s recollection:

I wanted to surprise my Dad with a puppy.  Searched Gumtree and online sites for Labrador puppies.  Read that they are super friendly and great for families.  A year before we lost a cat and I thought getting a dog would be a good change.  Ended up at a place in Durbanville on a Saturday after work and saw this litter of puppies in the house.  I sat down in front of them and just watched to see how they interacted.  Then this one little goofy puppy with ProNutro on his head came towards me.  He just wanted some love.  I knew this was the puppy for my Dad and for us.  There was just something so special about him!  He was so gentle when I picked him up, tail wagging and happy. 

The breeders called him Goldy because of his golden ears.  In my car, he laid on my lap peacefully, knowing that he would be on a new adventure of love, spoils and the best life that a dog could possibly have.  Stopped over at my mom’s hair salon.  She cleaned him up, put a bow on him and said: “Please don’t pee on my expensive carpets.”

At home I placed the bundle of joy on the steps to the house and shouted: “Dad, I want you to meet someone please.” He eventually came to the steps and asked: “Is this for me?” Ever since that day, Dad and Da Vinci have been pals for life.  Da Vinci had a lovely golden colour, big paws, puppy breath and this line across his nose.  He was a gentle giant with such a huge heart.  Da Vinci was one of the best good deeds that I have done in my life.  That’s Djemielah’s story of the beginning.

Our son Junaid suggested we name him after a universal icon whose reputation had outlived history and Da Vinci sounded so appropriate.  It was difficult for me at the beginning.  I wasn’t sure about this little brat, with him peeing and poohing all over the house.  And chewing the couches and whining at night when left alone.

After a while it suddenly changed.  No more chastisings, no arguments, his bed moved into our bedroom and he occupied his favourite spot as a puppy under my armpit close to my heart.

Our early morning coffee-time tug-of-war matches with his favourite rope toy, growling as he wrestled the rope from my hand – helped to build the relationship.  Djemielah was always there for him at the start, taking him to bed with her, hurriedly cleaning up behind him, caring so well for him, feeding him, walking him and taking him for training.  He was a bit old for the training course, so she “lied” about his age to get him in.

His meals of chicken breast, brown rice, carrots and pumpkin were time-consuming but a labour of love, with him closely “supervising” the cooking every step of the way.  To make up for salt and flavourings, Avril grilled his chicken to a golden brown.  We stopped boney beef slices after he developed belly problems but made up for it with biltong treats at night.  Da Vinci didn’t allow anything to interfere with his feed – not even a mating session with a lovely black Labrador called Bella.  It was quite hilarious with all of us egging him on and even trying to help him onto the job.  It all changed after his feed arrived by which time Bella was turned off.  Dining out at restaurants with a dog menu was a real treat.  At Thyme & Again in Plettenberg and Simons at Groot Constantia he felt a part of table instead of groveling below.

He was so smart when it came to sensing his favourite guests.  When godmother Marian Jacobs was at the gate, he would wait at the door, ready to dive into her bag for a treat or doggie ice cream.

Click photos for slide show

Toast was another of his favourites.  Avril’s brother Shaun visiting from Australia introduced him to it.  Da Vinci’s head would flip as fast as the toaster popped – no matter where in the house he’d be.  And next thing he’d be in the kitchen for his piece.

Finding suitable places for him to stay over while we were out of town were not easy.  We inspected several places including a farm in Philadelphia and eventually tried two homes in the Strand and in Gordon’s Bay.  At the Strand, we left him sitting upright, staring at the door as we left and when we collected him he was in a similar position – as if he hadn’t moved at all.  It was so heart-breaking we decided never to do it again and employed Jakob as a handler to care for him.  He was always the third passenger on our road trips to Knysna.  The whole back seat of the Prado was his double bed with polystyrene cut-outs between the seats and a foam mattress over it.

On his first road trip, he hardly peed during the stop overs.  At our holiday home, while following Avril up the stairs, it was as if a little hydrant opened as he let loose with a really long pee.  Gravel and 4×4 roads really irritated him and he snuggled his head under our armpits to object.  Another pet hate were ear flushes.  He often developed infections and we had to clean out the dark brown deposits of ear wax.  He hated it and would take refuge under tables or behind curtains. 

He loved the attention at Peninsula Vet from the reception staff and other pet owners but as soon as his vet, Dr Robert Campbell, stuck his head out of his surgery, Da Vinci would bark loadly.  Dr Campbell cared for him for most of his life, operating in on his paws to remove an infection on the toes and treating the joint problems in his hind legs to which he was prone.

He loved water and couldn’t resist the sound of gushing waves.  The rare occasion that he disobeyed Avril’s characteristic whistle was for the sound of waves.  Recently, a visit to the idyllic Meiringspoort Pass brought back loving memories of the time he had slipped into a pool of water below the gushing waterfall.  At least we thought he fell in but he could’ve just dived in.  He loved it, paddled to keep afloat while we panicked and eventually helped him over the slippery rocks.  Meiringspoort was being renovated and we were the only ones there because security had kindly relaxed the rules to allow us in.  Once at Brenton on Sea, Knysna, he got washed out at high tide in a strong current.  Lifeguards were warning swimmers but didn’t venture near Da Vinci.  He was naturally a very strong swimmer, kept himself afloat until we coaxed him to swim horizontally to the shore away from the current and onto the sand.  Those were very anxious moments indeed.  At Danger Beach and the St James Pool near where we live, he often broke away when out walking with us to dive in.

Then there was the Da Vinci spectacle – galloping around the house with his back hunched like a camel, his soft toy in his mouth, pushing carpets and even small pieces of furniture out of his way.  It was his version of toyitoying.

It happened when there was excitement about new guests visiting or when jealous about Avril’s video calls with the grandkids.  Yet he was so very gentle with Leila and Arya whenever they visited from London, allowing them to pull his tail or tuck at his ears.

When out walking, women adored cuddling him.  Djemielah described him as a ‘chick magnate’.  He knew how to attract women.  He would prostrate himself and then turn belly up for a tummy rub.  Christmas was just as special.  His pure joy was something to behold when Avril handed him his gift-wrapped toy that he would delight in opening all on his own.

His big embarrassment was when he was sick when he wet or poohed in the house.  The expression on his face, the drooping eyes, the tilt of his head – we couldn’t hope for a better apology.

To honour his memory, we erected a memorial bench on his favourite field between the St James Pool and Danger Beach.
 
So Loved, So Missed, Forever in Our Hearts.
 
And in association with the SA Veterinary Foundation, we’ve sponsored a bursary in Da Vinci’s name.

Another companion dog?  There can never be a replacement for Da Vinci.  Avril and I are sure of that.

There’s no better way to end Da Vinci’s story than with John Grogan’s beautiful words about Marley: A dog doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb.  Give him your heart and he’ll give you his. 

How many people can you say that about?

How many people can make you feel rare, pure and special?

How many people can make you feel extraordinary?