Back to black because it seems only appropriate.
The not-unexpected e-mail from Kirsti has arrived.
Sorry to tell you and Cherub that Jock was put to sleep tonight. For reasons you know plus further advice from two vets. I feel quite upset about it so please dont call to discuss it. I have asked for his ashes back and i'll keep them for you two if you think you would like them.
We know the reasons - he was old, he was pining, he was practically senile, crippled with arthritis and missing W.
There's no happy ending unless you remember the good times. So for what it's worth let's remember the dog who:-

1. Was adopted as a "puppy", but who turned out to be fully grown. And, so remained a small muppet all his life.

2. Who loved camping. Except he couldn't figure out how to get in a tent, so had to bounce on top of them repeatedly. This was not popular with other campers
3. Who liked nothing better than running mad down the side of a mountain. Sheep optional.
4. Who loved pubs, especially quiz nights which came with CRISPS... In earlier days he couldn't walk past Clark's bar without calling in to check on beer or crisp availability.
5. Who never knowingly let post into the house without first destroying it- or admitted defeat to let go of a stick.
6. Who, as first baby, hated the cherub with a vengeance when he first arrived: hiding under the bed when he cried. That he managed to eat the whole of Cherub's first birthday cake when W and I foolishly left cake and dog in car together is unrelated to this.
6. Who had formed a team with W. W even took him to work with him. Having been with W for the last 15 years he was never going to adapt.

I like to think of him as having gone to that happier place where there are unlimited postmen to chase, sausages on demand, and nobody telling you to "STAY and WATCH THE HOUSE".

Jock Dog 1993 or 1994(who knows) - February 2010