Losing your best friend.

The trouble with adoring dogs, is that we know we have to lose them.

I recently lost my beautiful, brave, hilarious, incredible, Tiny partner. She came into our lives just over a decade ago and was the greatest teacher and friend.

Tiny was a very, very small chihuahau who had no idea she was small. She had many many names through her life, but she ended up being called Merf because that was the noise she made when she wanted stuff. And she wanted a lot of stuff!

She had amazing puppies, helped me raise many, many puppies of other mothers - ensuring they were absolutely mannerly in all respects (they weren't allowed in her personal space unless invited and she showed me very elegantly how to achieve that with puppies and adult dogs. She loved the car, big stinking cities, countryside, kayaking, hiding in my coat (and getting me a bollocking at Tescos for not hiding very well).She was interested in everything and so so brave. She didn't like being around horses once her senses failed her - which is fair enough! She walked SO far! SHe would easily do twenty miles without wanting anything. She was so capable and wouldn't quit. She was uncontatinable and refused to accept poor treatment. Not that she ever came close to getting any! Goodness me I love her. She was epic.

She aged well and was coping with being ancient with a few ailments - she was blind in one eye and 'deaf', although I'm pretty sure that was a channel and bandwidth issue and not actual deafness - she struggled when there was too much going on. She was heading for tracheal collapse and had neurological seizures in the heat, particularly if her blood sugar was low. She probably also had congestive heart failure and may have been growing something unspeakable in her bowels.

She was still braodly fine though, with a lot of support and care she could have gone on until nature decided it was time, but (and it's a big but), I didn't want her to die a horrible death. I didn't want it for her, me or my son. When a death is certain and coming soon, it's a massive priviledge to be able to offer or give a peaceful death.

Her options without euthanasia would all have been traumatic, frightening and possibly lengthy with plenty of pain. I desperately didn't want any of those for her or us. The hardest phonecall is once you've made the decision and you know that really, any time could be the right time, because at that point, before your hand is forced, no time is the right time.

I read somewhere on the internet that once you've made the decision, sooner is better than later, because every day you wait in my circumstance is a day that may be too late to avoid the painful, protracted death. But that knowledge doesn't make the phonecall any easier.

So I took myself off for a long walk along a peaceful river and made the call, booking the vet for as soon as possible. So we had a weekend together. I tried not to think about it being her last weekend, or her last morning, or her last meal because I had given her so many good weekends and mornings and meals. She ate like a queen, walked miles and miles, socialised when she wanted and didn't when she didn't want to. She lived with and loved many dog friends and lived with and loved many people friends, some appropriately and some inapropriately - she was the only dog I've ever seen openly flrit with a human.

So the vet came and was kind, but I was devastated. I've been through a lot of loss and have felt a lot of pain, but it never, ever gets easier. We do it for them, we're brave for them. But I didn't feel brave, I just felt bereft. I miss her and am struggling to type for the tears.

Goodby my beautiful, stinky, hilarious, noisy, cross, happy, excited, adoring, genius friend.

Beautiful Tiny, sitting on beautiful Bert.