Lifestyle

Dog Days

Everyone that knows me, and anyone who has ever read the blog knows that I am a self-confessed crazy dog lady.
.
I love all dogs.  Even the little ratty looking ones.  But my eyes are usually drawn to any Staffy I see as they remind me of my own little meatball, Jake.  Jake is almost 15 years old and when I first met him, he was being kept in a cupboard in his owner’s house as his older brother was constantly attacking him.
.
When he was let out of the cupboard to meet us, he went crazy.  He ran circles around the furniture in a furiously insane fashion and the faces of my then husband and step son were a picture. They were less than keen, but I knew I had to take him home.  That was in 2003.
.
Jake passed away yesterday and, although I knew he wouldn’t live forever, I just hoped that he might.  He was an old man and had slowed down a great deal, having all sorts of problems and vet trips over the past couple of years. But he was always that crazy puppy underneath.
.
I knew it would happen sooner rather than later and I worried about just how much it would break my heart to have had him around for so long – and for some of the worst times of my life – and then wake up one day and realise he wasn’t there anymore.  Today was that day.
.
I’m the woman who can’t watch Dog’s Trust adverts on TV without crying, and if there’s a dog on Supervet whose chances are not looking good, I have to switch channels so I don’t end up howling for the rest of the night. I don’t do dog-related sadness well.
.
We knew on Monday that Jake would go back to the vet the following day and we’d made the decision that we didn’t want him to suffer with a condition that was only going to get worse. So, when the guy from the accident repair garage delivered me a courtesy car and made me sign to say I wouldn’t smoke or have any dogs in the car, I was a mess.
Then my husband suggested that we scatter Jake’s ashes in the sea and I cried because Jake hated the rain.  Then I cried because I found one of his hairs on his bed.  And then I just cried.
.
I had an easier day than my parents, who actually had to take him to the vet for his last trip.  I was at work in Wales at the time, so I got to avoid the heart wrenching act of sitting with him.
.
But I also didn’t get to say goodbye and sat, trying desperately trying to work out what the last thing I said to him was, and then realising it didn’t matter because he was a dog and he probably wanted me to go away and stop petting him so he could snooze.
.
So, for the time you Steve McQueen’d through my expensive leather chair trying to tunnel your way to God knows where; all the times you pushed me out of bed so you could get your massive face comfy on my pillow; for every time you dragged me off my feet and into some damp, soggy puddle; for the time you ran off when I smashed my wrist during our Boxing Day walk; for every time you pulled me away when you spotted a traffic cone, for every time you sat on my head; and for every single time you barked at me to go for a walk and then refused to go outside because it was raining; I forgive you. I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.
.
You were the best birthday present I’ve ever had and my best friend through thick and thin. I’m so glad you were mine.
.

Puppy Love - Jake
20/10 best boy

Suz x 

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “Dog Days”

  1. He was a lovely boy Suz, a great big softy. I'll miss seeing him come bounding through to the sunroom on my 6 weekly visits to your mum's. Hold on to your memories then he'll always be with you. X

    Like

  2. oh my, actually in tears. Beautiful, heartfelt words xx Jake was so lucky to have you all as his family xx run free jake xx

    Like

  3. I would ask if he was a good boy when you were in, but I already know the answer to that. As long as you cuddled him constantly, he was quite happy!

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.