I found Dad washing the car with a paintbrush. His dogs knew exactly what was happening

I glanced down at my phone, which I used to track my dad, Keith, who had Alzheimer’s – and gasped.

He was walking up the M60 slip road.

It was bad enough that my 72-year-old dad was in the middle of a motorway at 7:00pm on a Saturday night – but I knew he had his two dogs with him, and that he’d lost the capacity to understand the importance of having them on a lead.

Terrified, I called the police and the family, but my cousin got there first. Thankfully, the roads were fairly quiet.

But I was right – the dogs weren’t on a lead. There could have been a catastrophe. But, amazingly, the dogs never left Dad’s side.

My dad and I have always loved dogs. Almost 30 years ago, when I was 11, he and my mum decided to get a flat-coated retriever. Seven years later, they got another puppy.

The dogs meant everything to Dad. He and I would get up at 6:30am every morning and walk them together before school; he’d talk to them constantly, and our teatime routine revolved around them.

For years, Dad was a member of the Flat-Coated Retriever Association, which involved training gundogs using dummies, and he made so many friends just from walking his dogs. Everybody loved him.

But in 2017, we started noticing something was wrong.

Dad was a wonderful listener – he’d always want to know how you were, first and foremost. But that year, he started just talking, talking, talking about himself.

There was a sudden lack of listening skills and attention span, and it was very out of character.

Then he started forgetting words, and getting muddled and frustrated. In 2018, I remember worrying, before my wedding, about whether he’d be able to do his speech.

He’d get lost frequently, which was bizarre for him, and one day I found him washing the car with a paintbrush.

He was clearly worried, but he put off a diagnosis for years. Even after he was eventually diagnosed in 2019, it was a battle to get him to go for check ups. He was just in denial.

His dogs always knew, though. They had always wanted to run off and explore on a walk, but when he started getting lost they would not leave his side.

The oldest dog used to just stare at my dad constantly on walks, and in the house, they’d both follow him everywhere. It was incredibly intense and the whole family noticed it.

Dad’s decline was very sudden.

His personality started to change. He’d do things like picking bobbles off his clothes and stacking them on the arm of the sofa and if anyone cleared them off, he’d get really angry. In his mind, his task had been ruined.

And, of course, there was the motorway incident in 2022.

Mum had to start locking all the external doors, because he’d forget he’d been out with the dogs already, and would want to keep going out.

He didn’t understand why he was locked in and he’d try to get out, rattling doors and banging windows.

Towards the end of Dad’s time at home, his dogs were his only pleasure.

He loved my mum and I, of course, but the dogs were different. He’d sit on the sofa, with one on each side, and they made him feel safe and secure.

One day in October 2022, my mum called me – Dad had locked her in the garden, so he was inside alone.

I could hear him shouting and banging the windows, and I couldn’t get there quickly on this occasion, so I advised her to call the police.

Neither Mum or I imagined what would happen next.

The police were brilliant, getting him to unlock the door and speaking with both him and my mum.

They thought he should go to A&E for a medical review, so they called the paramedics – and he never came home again.

It was a huge shock, and incredibly sad, but looking back, things couldn’t have gone on as they were.

That day, Dad was taken to a dementia assessment unit. Mum and I went over, and the Sister in charge warned us that he was very aggravated.

Dad saw me from across the ward. He shouted my name and wet himself, and I hurried over to him.

We hugged for what seemed like 10 minutes. He kept begging us to stay with him, and I thought: ‘This is truly the worst day of my whole life’.

Dad stayed there for around five months, and we made the difficult decision for him to never see his beloved dogs again. It would break Dad’s heart for them to visit and then have them taken away from him.

Dad seemed to deteriorate very quickly in the hospital.

Still, we tried to make it cosy. We put pictures up, and there was a little robotic dog that was supposed to be for the whole ward but became my dad’s. He’d just sit and stroke it.

I trained one of my dogs to be a therapy dog so she could visit him, and that made a big difference, too.

Dad was moved to a care home in February 2023, but it wasn’t quite right for him.

My dad was never comfortable with anyone helping him with his personal care. It was only me who could change his pads and clean him up – if anyone else tried to do it, it was hell on earth for them and for him.

I loved that Dad still knew he could trust me, but that home wasn’t the best place for him; the staff just weren’t trained to cope with his needs.

So later that year, he was moved to a challenging behaviour care home, where the staff were very highly trained in dementia. But he was only there for six weeks before he got shingles and passed away in October 2023.

I was with him when he died, and both Mum and I cried from sheer relief – relief that he wasn’t living in this hell any more – and I haven’t cried since.

I started grieving the loss of my dad years before he actually died, because the Dad I knew was disappearing before my very eyes and I just didn’t know anything could be done.

His deterioration hit us like a tornado – and we couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Now, though, I know the importance of early diagnosis – and I encourage any family members of someone with suspected Alzheimer’s to urge them to get diagnosed as soon as possible. They might be able to get treatment to reduce some symptoms.

My dad put off getting a diagnosis for years. We just didn’t know how important it was.

Dad’s condition plateaued for a long time – and goodness knows what he would have done without his dogs. They kept him busy while his world as he knew it was disappearing.

After Dad left home for the last time, his dogs seemed to relax – as though they’d taken on the role of his carers and now they were off duty.

Now, they’re nine and four years old, and they live a content and quiet life with just my mum – but I’ll never forget how they acted around Dad when he was ill.

I doubt I’ll ever witness anything like it again. 

As told to Izzie Price

Alzheimer’s Society is there for people again and again, through the hardest, most frightening times. If you need support or information, visit alzheimers.org.uk or phone the Dementia Support Line on 0333 150 3456

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

Share your views in the comments below.