In this blog, Grace shares the story of Mango, her cocker spaniel who sensed her pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage.

But then suddenly Mango’s vibes changed. She went off her food and started avoiding me

Mango is my fur baby. She is almost two years old. She is the most beautiful and sensitive wee soul and, as is typical of cocker spaniels, an adorable level of bonkers.

Shortly after my husband and I returned from holiday she was glued to me. She has always been uber cuddly, but this was a level above. Stuck to me like Velcro. A few weeks later I had a positive pregnancy test. Mango had known we had brought back more than just souvenirs from our holiday!

We had only been trying for a month, so we were excited but a little taken aback at how quickly things had moved. Everything seemed fine for the next six weeks. Sore boobs? Check. Almost constant nausea? Check. Craving for unusual food? Check (for me, it was Marmite!) We were all very much immersed in the pregnancy vibes.

But then suddenly Mango’s vibes changed. She went off her food and started avoiding me. If I sat down on the sofa, she jumped off. If my husband went out the room, she went too. She almost seemed relieved when he came home.

Shortly after, my vibes changed too. My nausea eased and something just felt different in myself. But I reassured myself that pregnancy is a period of perpetual change, and that I was moving toward the second trimester.

By this point, we had only told a handful of people on a need-to-know basis. We decided to go for a private scan at around 11 weeks, so we could make the big announcement to families. We had bought Mango a bandana which said ‘I’m going to be a big Sister June 2025’ so she could join in the announcement.

I went in ready and expecting to hear my baby’s heartbeat and see them wiggling… in hindsight I feel like such a naive idiot! Sadly, too many TWGGE members know what happens next and how it feels. The silence. The wavy indistinct image. The baby smaller than expected (9 weeks). “Sorry I can’t detect a heartbeat”. I hope it’s ok, but that’s a tale for another time. This is Mango’s story.

Absolutely distraught. we made our way home to Mango. As all dog owners know, coming through the front door is the best moment of their dog’s day and she was thrilled to see us… but she just couldn’t read the room. She proceeded to entertain us with the world’s most zoomiest zoomies, throwing her toys around and begging for attention, yapping at us to play with her, while I sobbed on the sofa.

She wasn’t aggressive, but she would follow my husband around. He was the focus of her attention and cuddles now

Over the next few days, she continued to avoid me. She wasn’t aggressive, but she would follow my husband around. He was the focus of her attention and cuddles now. Finally, we all knew what she already knew. There was something wrong. The baby she had sensed growing inside me had reached the end of its journey and she had sensed that too, and this change in my smell or hormones unsettled her. I had to accept her behaviour, even though I craved her puppy love more than ever.

Once in bed, she tucked her nose under the duvet near my tummy, but immediately pulled away like she couldn’t bear to be near my belly. My husband noticed this, and he could also see how distraught I was having no cuddles from my little therapy dog. So, when he wasn’t cuddling me, he spent the next few days sitting alone in the armchair, meaning that I was Mango’s only option for sofa cuddles.
Eventually, she relented and settled for my strokes and could obviously tell I was sad. Tentatively, she started to give me attention, sitting by my side while I made crafts, letting me hold her in my arms, licking my tears… mmmm tasty.

…while sobbing and being cradled by my husband I felt a little nose under my elbow. It was Mango.

The day came for my surgical management. Before we set off to the hospital, I sat on the sofa and decided to look at my baby’s scan photos for the first time. I wanted to look at them while I knew that they were still with me. It was so very hard, but while sobbing and being cradled by my husband I felt a little nose under my elbow. It was Mango. She wiggled herself in and placed her head right on my belly. We sat there for 15 minutes, the three of us saying goodbye to Papaya – the nickname for my baby in-utero, which has now stuck as their forever name. Mango knew this was the time to say goodbye to the wee playmate she never knew, but had sensed all along.

As I said, this is Mango’s story not mine, so I will save my journey through the NHS for another day, with a key highlight being serenading my anaesthetist as I was high on drugs, fear, and adrenaline. Anyway, once home it took Mango a while to trust me again. Even now, three months later, I still think she prefers my husband – maybe that’s just my self-loathing brain.

I will also remember my first solo dog walk with Mango after the procedure, when I let her off lead and she pegged it through a field… I sat in the path and cried until she came back looking quizzically at me! I no longer had the confidence with her I had before. Even the slightest set back or wrong behaviour and I freaked. We are getting there though, walk-by-walk, cuddle by cuddle. She is currently wrapped up in a blanket with me on the sofa while I type this, occasionally popping her snout on my keyboard in the hope of a piece of kibble.

I shall always treasure the image of Mango saying goodbye to Papaya.

Maybe she will be glued to me again soon, sensing a wee life inside me. Hopefully, this time, that little puppy sense will lead to a real-life best buddy for her to play with. Although that’s how I picture the future, I shall always treasure the image of Mango saying goodbye to Papaya.
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Ps. I wanted to share Mango’s story, rather than my own, because it’s easier. It lets me keep my emotions slightly at bay. It’s how I deal with the awkward conversations… ‘How are you?’ ‘Oh well I’m not really ok, but let me tell you how Mango is…’ Also, she is so cute I can’t get mad, angry or overwhelmed with her like I do with myself. I hope her story might bring you some healing, a small smile, or even validation if you experienced similar things with your pets. Lots of love to whoever is reading this. You are not alone; Mango sends puppy licks.

Written by Grace Critchlow