One day in 1998, we acquired a black Labrador who proved to be almost as crackers as his owners. I have referred to him on this blog as Bonkers Dog, and for good reason. Six months ago, he started slowing down, and started to get pains in his joints. He became less mobile, and for the last couple of weeks I have had to physically assist him in getting up if he has been lying down. He's needed constant attention (willingly given) but started showing signs of acute anxiety if we left the room. A week ago, his appetite went and suddenly he started looking haggard and gaunt. This morning, the biscuits I had left in his bed last night were still there. If you know Labs, you'll know that is a bad sign. We took him to the vets this afternoon, ostensibly for an objective assessment, but we really knew what the outcome would be. The vet was kindness itself, both to the dog and to us, and Bonkers Dog passed peacefully out of this world in the early afternoon.
He had been my constant companion for 14 years, and I am utterly bereft. The house is too quiet, and Rescue Cat is wandering from room to room, looking for something that is no longer there.
There's a lot more I want to say, but right now I haven't the words.