RIP Skip

When the diagnosis of cancer was made, we didn't know if we'd have a few months, weeks or days left with Skip. My guess was a few weeks, but it turned out to be only a few days.

We took him to the vet on the Wednesday, he collapsed on the scales, unable to get up. Although he was okay a few minutes later, it was during a discussion with the vet that there was only one option, the only question was when. We'd gone to the vet that day as a routine thing, and not to make that kind of decision, and despite what I share on Facebook at times, I am a rather private person, and I couldn't stand the thought of walking through the shop crying my eyes out, and then driving back home to an empty house. So we opted for a home visit, which we figured would be best for all concerned.

In a way the timing was a relief. Just a few days later and I'd be away in Ukraine for 5 days, and I despite the pain, I really wanted to be there at the end.

I spent his last couple of hours laying with him on the floor. He was peaceful and relaxed. Although he didn't want any food that morning, he did still insist on being taken for a walk, and even got up to greet the vet as they arrived.

He was up 3 times in the night with diarrhoea, and he'd lost so much muscle mass on his newly operated on leg that he was struggling to walk, so we knew we'd made the right decision. Two whole months of non-stop diarrhoea was just too much.

Ruth, our vet was as kind and gentle as you'd expect. She explained the process, put a line in, and injected the overdose of general anaesthetic.

Within just a couple of seconds he was gone.

So quick.

So peacefully.

Holding him as he went was probably the single hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I had to leave the room at that point as it was just too much for me. I never saw him again, hiding myself under my hat as they took him away.

We've asked for his ashes to be returned. Mum wants to plant a tree or something for him in the garden. I kinda like that idea.

In some cruel twist of irony, it's exactly 4 years and 4 days since Dad died.

Skip had been in our family for a week shy of 12 years. During that time he bought much happiness and laughter into our home. Despite a rather trying first few months, where he tried to destroy the house, he was an awesome dog.

I'm going to miss his help opening parcels, he always enjoyed ripping apart a cardboard box. I'm going to miss him joining in when a dog barks on the telly. I'm going to miss him pissing over his legs (stupid bloody dog!). I won't miss him barking at nothing though, oh who am I kidding, of course I will.

Bloody dog.

[These are the first and final photos I have of him.]