Thursday, 23 April 2015

The things I want to remember

The way he'd tap you with his paw to remind you he was still there.

At 9pm he'd sit up on the sofa and open and close his mouth and yawn.

Ropey, ducky, rubber chicken, antler, weird frog thing. All the best toys.

The areas of the park where he would stop and wait for you to whisper "squirrel"  and then tear off towards nothing.

Sleeping with him on my bed when I wasn't allowed.

How his tail would go so far between his legs when he was nervous or sad and we would laugh at him.

The way he knew how to turn around so all his feet could be wiped after a walk

Our routine before he could start eating... Each paw in succession.

How excited he got when he was told it was agility night.

Eating raw pasta.

Licking the floor and the dishwasher after dinner.

Clonking his collar on the floor to wake us up in the morning.

How hard his tail would thump on the floor when I woke up.

How his eyes rolled back when he was asleep and his canines showed and we clad him our little vampire dog.

The time I came home and couldn't open the front door because he'd pulled back the carpet and eaten the underlay (I just put the carpet back and didn't tell my parents).

On Christmas Day he would carry presents to the person he was told.

How much he loved having his teeth brushed.

His favourite place to lie at the side of my bed.

How he'd lick my nose in the middle of the night to get me to let him out of my room.

He always knew to leave the kitchen when the plates came out for dinner to be dished up.

His fascination with worms.

Hiding all food when we left the house - fruit bowl on top of the bookcase.

Singing.

Playing the harmonica to him.

Bathtime... the worst time.

Long walks to the windmill, through the golf course and down the river...

His self control with treats on his paws and nose.

His little yips in his sleep.

How he always managed to French kiss you when you weren't expecting it.

How much he loved to watch terrier racing.

The sound of his paws on the wooden floor.

Coming home.

The biscuit game at bedtime.

He would always walk up to us after his meals and 'thank' us.

The million ways I loved him to pieces and how there'll never be another dog like him, Ever.








On Saturday 28th March, we took Louis to the vets, thinking he was bloated. I handed that lead to the vet thinking we'd be back in a couple of hours. It was cancer, and we never went back. The moment he disappeared into the back room of the vet surgery haunts me as the last time I saw him. I miss that dog so much it's unreal. My furry brother. He was only seven years old. I feel cheated out of more time with him, but I'd never give back the time we were given, no matter the heartbreak.

I'm just going to climb on my soapbox here for a minute to say please, please, PLEASE rescue a dog instead of going to a breeder. You want a certain breed? Look up breed rescues. You want a puppy to grow up in your family? There are loads of them in rescue centres: crossbreeds, pedigrees, large, small... And you know what? Getting a dog from a breeder does not mean you will be free of vet bills and behavioural problems. I literally cannot stand it when people buy a puppy for hundreds of pounds/dollars.

Louis had a few problems, but with a little bit of training and love he came round and was our perfect animal. Not to mention it was the most rewarding experience, seeing him thrive.

We have a new little love now, and I'll introduce her sometime. But I miss my Louis.