A Good Friend

His name was Reisen. And he was beautiful.

He was a Golden Retriever and he was twelve years old. I'd had him since he was around 8 weeks or so. He was the softest, gentlest, most easy-going. most loving pup you could hope to find. He loved everybody.

And at one o'clock today he was put gently to sleep.

The recurring UTIs were worrying the vet so he asked me to take Reisen in for some X-rays and an exploratory check-up.

The X-rays showed exactly why he'd been having problems. There was a fucking great tumour in the way.

The vet said it was inoperable and yes, it was malignant. He said Reisen had about a month to six weeks. And he would get progressively worse during that month. And be in increasing pain. And that the kindest thing to do would be simply to not let him wake from the anaesthesia but increase it and let him pass peacefully in his sleep.

So I said yes.

And I lost another good friend.

I've gone from having two beautiful boys, eighteen months ago, to having a hole in my life and my heart that is so fucking big it makes the Grand Canyon look like a crack in a paving stone. And I've cried enough to make a river to fill it with.

At least he's back with Harley now. He did miss him so. And somewhere they're together, young again and free from aches and pains. And chasing each other round a great big field of soft green grass.

Break your fucking heart they do. Animals. Make life worth living but oh Christ it's so empty when they go.