Woof.

Last month bore a rather traumatic day for The Party of Five, insofar as to say we had to bid a terribly sudden goodbye to The Dog, a much beloved and long term member of the family who'd been with us far longer than any of The Spawn.  We  He was twelve and a half years old when we were cruelly forced to say farewell last month.  For an elderly gentledog he was in incredibly decent nick, admirably agile and full of life.  Even the morning of the day he had to let him go he'd been his usual bouncy duracel bunny self.  

His name was Fenriz. His name was Fenriz and he was loved endlessly.

His name was Fenriz and he was one of my best friends.

His name was Fenriz and on February 28th he became suddenly ill and within an hour or so put to sleep. He was twelve years old. I still vividly remember the day we brought him home from a dogs home at the wee age of six weeks, he'd been born in the shelter as his mum had been rescued walking heavily pregnant on a very busy road.  He was here through a temporary break up, a cat, a wedding, three births and a miscarriage, three house moves and so much more. He never once so much as growled at a person, he was bouncy, daft, funny and adorable. Despite his age he was healthy, full of energy and had the agility of a dog half his age. The onset of his decline was sudden, fast and vicious. He literally went from absolutely fine to dying within an hour. I will never forget seeing him laid on the floor unable to control his bladder, his eyes rolling, constantly dilating and then when he tried to walk his legs kept giving way making him fall and stumble, he looked so confused. I could literally feel his life energy leave him as I stroked his head and yet still he looked up at me with his huge eyes and wagged his tail at me, for me. The Toddler, nearly three, didn’t understand the gravity of the situation and dutifully went to get his toy doctors kit to make him better. Bless.

He didn’t whine or whimper.

I am thirty-something and yet i rang my mum in tears saying that I thought my dog was dying and I didn’t know what to do. The vet said it was severe anemia yet due to his age and the state he was in he didn’t recommend treatment as he simply didn’t think it would help him (and in all honesty, I don’t think he would have survived the ordeal of it all and would have died in pain and worse, fear). He recommend we allow him to put him to sleep. He had no other signs symptoms of being unwell, the sudden and vicious deterioration was simply horrific, earlier that day he was bounding around as usual, happy and fit. In a way I am thankful it was sudden and quick. I am happy that we were at home with him when it started and that the last hour of his life was mostly surrounded by his family.

It sounds so stupid. We think of anemia and we think of popping some iron pills and that’s it. I dread to think what the root cause was, I hope it wasn’t cancer. My husband stayed with him throughout, I was at home with the children. We are devastated. There is a hole in my heart that is irreparable and an emptiness in our family home.  This was The Spawn's first introduction to grief and a rather painful life lesson.  That evening their hearts were quite simply destroyed.

His name was Fenriz and we miss him more then words can say.

His name was Fenriz and we will never forget him.

I just want him back. It hurts too much. He wasn’t supposed to leave us yet. I cried myself to sleep for the four days afterwards.

I am riddled with what ifs, yet I know the vet would not have recommended putting him to sleep if he genuinely believed he could have been saved. I know my husband wouldn’t have agreed to the vets recommendation if the vet thought he could be saved.

His name is Fenriz and he was the best dog in the world.