Our clever, beautiful, loving girl died on St Valentine’s Day 2008 at 3am at the age of 15 years. She was the cleverest, brightest dog stuffed full of personality. She could sing and dance- summer holiday in summer, singing in the rain in winter and jingle bells at Christmas. I’d sing, she’d dance lying down with her front paws moving across the floor and at ends of phrases I’d point at her and she’d bark (sing!). She loved Xmas and couldn’t wait to open presents, she’d often find her present under the tree and start to open it before you knew she was doing it. She loved to open presents and if she’d finished hers if you weren’t quick enough she’d start on yours too! I used to tell her she smelled like a teddy bear – like sunshine on a warm carpet, with soft and silky fur. She occasionally would have a bath and whilst she wasn’t keen she tolerated it – you just had to catch her before she shook herself all over the house. She liked the hairdryer though and would lie down and be pampered. Her favourite place was wherever we were, but if we had to pick one it would be on Mundesley beach. She loved the sea and immediately we got onto the sand she would be looking for you to throw her ball into the waves so that she could paddle in and fetch it and do it all over again. When she’d had enough we’d sit on the wall and get dry – and she would do impressions with the towel – particularly good was ET and Red Rum – but also John Wayne, Mohammed Ali, Dylan from magic roundabout to name a few. Then we’d just sit and listen to the sea and the gulls and watch the fisherman go out to sea. Some of her ashes will be scattered on the beach. She knew when I said “not be long” that I was going out without her, and she would go and lie down looking dejected. I’d tell her I was going to work and not be long and she would just wait for me to come back – often by the front door. Even if I went away for a few days with work we’d tell her how many sleeps it would be before I’d return – and she could count! When I said “not be long” she knew I would be coming back. When she died we asked her for a sign that she was ok, a shooting star or something. One week to the minute i.e. the following Thursday at 3am there was a total eclipse of the moon – so she’s fine wherever she is – and I know she’ll be waiting for us. God bless sweet pea, “not be long”.
Our clever, beautiful, loving girl died on St Valentine’s Day 2008 at 3am at the age of 15 years. She was the cleverest, brightest dog stuffed full of personality. She could sing and dance- summer holiday in summer, singing in the rain in winter and jingle bells at Christmas. I’d sing, she’d dance lying down with her front paws moving across the floor and at ends of phrases I’d point at her and she’d bark (sing!). She loved Xmas and couldn’t wait to open presents, she’d often find her present under the tree and start to open it before you knew she was doing it. She loved to open presents and if she’d finished hers if you weren’t quick enough she’d start on yours too! I used to tell her she smelled like a teddy bear – like sunshine on a warm carpet, with soft and silky fur. She occasionally would have a bath and whilst she wasn’t keen she tolerated it – you just had to catch her before she shook herself all over the house. She liked the hairdryer though and would lie down and be pampered. Her favourite place was wherever we were, but if we had to pick one it would be on Mundesley beach. She loved the sea and immediately we got onto the sand she would be looking for you to throw her ball into the waves so that she could paddle in and fetch it and do it all over again. When she’d had enough we’d sit on the wall and get dry – and she would do impressions with the towel – particularly good was ET and Red Rum – but also John Wayne, Mohammed Ali, Dylan from magic roundabout to name a few. Then we’d just sit and listen to the sea and the gulls and watch the fisherman go out to sea. Some of her ashes will be scattered on the beach. She knew when I said “not be long” that I was going out without her, and she would go and lie down looking dejected. I’d tell her I was going to work and not be long and she would just wait for me to come back – often by the front door. Even if I went away for a few days with work we’d tell her how many sleeps it would be before I’d return – and she could count! When I said “not be long” she knew I would be coming back. When she died we asked her for a sign that she was ok, a shooting star or something. One week to the minute i.e. the following Thursday at 3am there was a total eclipse of the moon – so she’s fine wherever she is – and I know she’ll be waiting for us. God bless sweet pea, “not be long”.
Comments
I couldn't fail to be moved by this post or struck by the differences between a personal and professional posting.
Having been fortunate enough to meet Pepe, and to see you all together I know how very much loved she was. She gave an immesurable ammount of pleasure to you, but you gave her everything too.
I look forward to reading more.