Parenting and lifestyle blog

Saturday, 3 June 2017

An open letter to my dog

This month marks three years since we had you euthanised.

I remember the day we went and picked you out, you were only 5 weeks old.

The day we brought you home you laid on my lap for the car journey home - and immediately explored your new surroundings once you were in the house.

We included you on everything, camping trips, holidays and our honeymoon. 

You were a fairly well travelled dog too, in one holiday you managed to travel in a car, on a ferry across to Skye, a steam train, a boat across Loch Ness and a gondola up a mountain!

When we went for walks you'd always pick the biggest stick you could find and insist on carrying them.


You were the dog with a thousand lives - you'd almost been run over, been in a critical condition at the vets after you'd eaten some wood, and constantly ate things you shouldn't while out on walks that made you sick.

When we brought our eldest home from the hospital you were so inquisitive at what this new little person was doing.

We never left you in the same room, we had a baby gate on the lounge door, so if we weren't in the room with baby neither were you.

We thought we'd got all our bases covered as you were never left alone with the baby.

The day it happened we were all in the lounge, baby was on the floor, and so were you - he'd crawled over to sit next to you and then put his hands on your back leg.........

And that was it, in that instant something inside of you snapped, you jumped up, growled and bit the baby.

I dashed upstairs with the baby to check him over - you'd marked him - I could see teeth marks on the top of his ear and a scratch down his head where your claw had got him.

You instantly knew you'd done wrong.

The decision we made wasn't taken lightly, we sought advice as to what was best for all of us.

We looked at rehoming you, but we knew you'd never settle, you weren't that type of dog - you would have always been looking out for when we would be coming to collect you - and we didn't want that for you.

Knowing what you'd done there was always that chance you'd do it again, and we weren't prepared to take that risk.

I remember making the phone call -  the vets gave us an appointment for the following morning.

You were taken for your last walk across the fens- you played with sticks and ran around without a care in the world.

We walked you into the vets, knowing we weren't going to be coming back out with you.

The vet gave you a sedative, and once it had taken effect they then administered the injection.

You came into our lives being our dog, and we wanted you to leave our lives being our dog, and for you to have us there with you knowing that you were still loved as you left this world.

We walked back to the car with just your collar and lead - and when we returned home the house immediately felt empty without you.


There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about you, and remember the fun we had.

I'm not angry with you, you just made a silly mistake that couldn't be undone.

Sleep tight Blitz xx


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