Wednesday 2 May 2012

Death of a Good Dog

Our lovely German Shepherd died last week. Snoring at my feet today is a fat Staffie. "Blimey that was quick," I hear you say, "not much love lost there then!" Of course there was, lots of love lost, because he was the best dog known to man.
We got him when he was eight from the Oldies web site. He was scraggy, emaciated and had sad cloudy eyes. The day before he died, last Monday, he was trotting in the woods, meeting mates and having fun. A neighbour remarked on his lovely coat. He was at least 12 and had to take pills to help with his achey joints. On Tuesday I came downstairs to find him dead on the kitchen floor.
Later that day we set off for our local Blue Cross and met the Staffie. He needs a home too. Whlle we are fighting tears over our lovely lad, other dogs are desperate for a good home. So now we have something entirely different. It's better that way. Another   German would have  a hard act to follow.
A Staffie is new to us, but already he is proving to be an affectionate, and very comical friend. Such dogs have a hard time in kennels. They need to be with people. We need them, so really there is no time to lose, is there?