Last week we made the very difficult decision to say goodbye to our puppy dog, Azzy. He might have been 14 but to us he was and always will be 'puppy dog'.
I loved his optimism, checking his bowl first thing each morning just in case he'd missed a bit from the night before or in the hope it had been magically refilled. He wasn't too fussy about his food enjoying fabric, lolly wrappers, tissues, toothbrushes, loaves of bread, Red Skins (very chewy red sweets), and no we didn't deliberately feed him these things he just had a knack for finding them. He loved checking out handbags and the unwary would find him with his nose right at the bottom pushing it around the floor.
When I decided a bit over 6 years ago I needed to lose weight, it was Azzy that dragged me around the hill. He loved the walk (as all dogs do) and so I kept at it each day, simply so I didn't disappoint him. His walking days had been over for the past few months, but my routine was established and I am forever grateful for this.
He loved us unconditionally, as only a pet can, and is greatly missed - even his man-like snoring.