Yesterday was a pretty good day.
Today is not a good day.
In fact I would say that today is a fucking awful god-forsaken shit of a day.
I don't want it to be today. I want it to be yesterday and for today to never arrive.
Came downstairs this morning to find Harley on his sofa (the dogs have their own, very scruffy, sofa in the hall so they have somewhere comfy to sit without getting on the good furniture). He whimpered when he saw me. He'd pissed himself. Not like him. And he didn't move.
He's been getting a bit shaky on his legs lately. Can't do proper walks the way he could. (We used to run 5 miles twice a day when he was young). So all we've done lately is a very short trip round the corner of an evening. He's almost blind. He's an old man. Almost 14.
He tried to get up, his front legs pushed him up. His back legs didn't move.
I called the vet. She said she'd come over as soon as morning surgery finished. I called in sick and sat beside him. I made a big fuss of him. I got him some custard creams (they're his favourite biscuits) and brought him some water in a small bowl. And prayed I would be strong enough to do the right thing if I had to.
I told him he was a good boy. And I told him I loved him. I told him he'd always be my number one man.
The vet arrived at lunchtime. I was still sitting holding him. The kid let them in.
He'd had a stroke.
I sat and held his head and told him I loved him while she put a needle into his front leg. And I kissed his head and at 1.33pm he passed away.
And I bawled like baby.
Then they put him in the vet's car and took him to be cremated.
And half my heart went with them.
And I know that wherever he is he's young again. And running across the greenest fields in the sunshine. My Harley. Mr Davidson. The only Harley I'll ever be able to afford. The best £50 I ever spent.
Rest in peace boy. Reisen will miss you. So will I. I'll see you again sometime.
Harley Davidson Collie-Dog. 1994-2008
