born November 2002
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On this day four years ago, the life force that had bounced little Rover - Mr Onederful! - through life for almost fifteen years, left him. We were both with him, talked to him, stroked him, and comforted him, and his big beautiful eyes were still looking up at us, as he took his last laboured breath.
We had one last day in the sunshine together, as he watched me prepare the vegetable garden, and he still enjoyed a large bowl of his favourite food, and we had come to accept that his seizures, sometimes just two a day (or night) but often more, would continue, but that he would always recover and be his beautiful, loving, wonderful self again.
This time it was not to be. Death is never pretty but his was as short and painless as any of us can ever hope for. From the time he lost consciousness until his eyes became unseeing, it was little more than a few short minutes. It was so quick, in fact, that the reality that the house will be so much emptier without him hasn't quite sunk in yet.
We placed him in his little sleeping box, covered him in his favourite jumper, and gave him a tearful burial minutes before midnight.
Good-bye, my friend, and rest in peace. We will never ever forget you.
ℬy the edge of the woods, at the foot of the hill,
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