To my beautiful Lottie,

I was so excited when I came home from school one day and it was announced we were getting a dog. I was eight years old and had always wanted a four-legged friend – although I could never have imagined that you would mean so much to me. It was love at first sight and I never thought that one day you wouldn’t be here anymore. Deep down I knew that one day you would have to leave me, but I always imagined you with me throughout my life.

Remember your first trip to the beach, in Barmouth 2007? You were such a naughty puppy, refusing to come back on the lead. Since then we have shared lots of holidays and fun times swimming in the sea together as well as some lovely, long countryside walks. Whatever I did, wherever I went, you were nearly always by my side.

You were by no means a perfect puppy to most people, or a perfect dog; you were over-excited (even in your old age), always jumping up at people and being over bearing, often being mistaken for a puppy when you were an eleven year old senior. Raiding picnics and stealing food, rolling in disgusting things, wallowing in muddy puddles and pulling down curtains also featured in your life a lot. But you were perfect to me; you were always much more than a pet. You were my best friend, my sister, a true family member.

As I was growing up and getting older, so were you. I could walk further whereas you could walk less. I became stronger and you became weaker and frailer. Arthritis eventually meant a short plod round the top of the park. I’m sorry for sometimes getting impatient and annoyed when you were slow and doing a significant amount of sniffing. I’m sorry for sometimes moaning when I had to take you out in the rain or early morning. I’m sorry for wishing I didn’t have to share my crisps with you, always trying to hide them from you to make you go away. I’d give anything now to have those moments back.

Out of all the teachers I’ve had over the years, you have always been the best. You reminded me about what was truly important as you convinced me to enjoy a sunny walk outside and just to live in the moment rather than fret about the future. You have taught me the meaning of faith and trust, patience and hope. It was your waggy tail and smiley face every time I came through the door or when you greeted someone that taught me the importance of enjoying every day and treating everyone with kindness. I have had many ups and downs in life, and through them all you were a constant source of comfort. A paw on my knee and a lick on my face, you were always there for me through it all. Even at my lowest, you never judged me and instead showed me companionship when I needed it most. I enjoyed the times where I slept by you, mattresses side by side – your snoring provided me with a strange sense of security and calmness. You also provided me with much amusement and laughs, whether it was because of your funny yawn or something else.

That horrible, dreadful day came round all too soon. It was the worst thing imaginable to see you in so much distress and discomfort all of a sudden. By the evening of that Saturday you were gone and I clearly remember our last moments, while the vet was preparing the injection. I hugged and kissed you, telling you how much I loved you and how much I’d miss you, despite the fact you were sedated so you didn’t recognise me anymore. I hope that you were still comforted by your family beside you in your last moments on earth, and you knew how much we loved you. I was unable to control my emotion as tears rolled down my face hysterically. We removed your collar and I watched in agony and disbelief as the vet administrated the final injection to take my best friend away, while my mum was hugging you close. Within seconds you had passed peacefully, and we left your lifeless body lying there. When you left us, I felt a part of me did too. I still sometimes find it hard to believe and come to terms with that you aren’t here anymore, and you’re not coming back either.

I like to think of you in Heaven, across the rainbow bridge, running in the grass chasing squirrels freely across the sky with your waggy tail, despite not believing in the after-life. I hope that one day we will meet again, in the sky, where we will suddenly see each other, reunited forever. Until then, I will try and remain strong and remember that you are always close to me in my heart. Months have passed and yet I’m still grieving. I still sometimes expect to see you at the window. I forget you’re not here and still come down at night when I can’t sleep to be comforted by you, only to see an empty space where your bed was. I still find tennis balls in the garden, which used to be part of your ever-growing collection. Whenever I see a huge stick I think of you prancing proudly with it, darting past with half a tree in your mouth.

 

Watching you bond with Frank was a dream come true for me, and your legacy lives on. You have taught him how to come and greet people at the door, lick the plates clean and comfort me when I need it, although no one could ever replace you.

I’m forever grateful to have had such a special friend in my life, a bond that I can definitely never have again. Thank you for everything, for showing me so much love and friendship and for being such a lovely companion. My love for you was so deep and strong, I hope you realised how much you were adored by everyone who knew you.

A lot of people won’t understand that I’m not just grieving for a dog, I’m grieving for a family member. Grief is a complicated thing and it doesn’t go away, even for a cherished ‘pet.’ I feel sorry for anyone who hasn’t had the privilege to have a special bond with an animal – you have enriched my life in more ways than I ever imagined possible.

Love you forever my sweet Lot Lot

From your best friend xxxxxx

 

‘Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened’ -Anatole France