She's gone.

Ealier I went downstairs to see if Pudsey wanted to be carried outside, to find her having a massive fit. As the RSPCA wasn't going to open for another three hours, I called the ex and he cancelled work to give us a lift to a nearby private vet*.
I held her and talked to her about going on a mushroom hunt and bunny chase after her sleep, and she went with a little snore and a peaceful sigh as the anaesthesia worked.
I know she's out of pain now, and off on adventures in the Great Doggy Park in the sky, but right now I can't stop crying.
Rest in peace, my gorgeous, faithful, furry friend, and constant side-kick.

I'll miss you more than words can say.


Pudsey, 1991 - 2007.


*Luckily, they are giving me some time to pay, but I'm still worried sick about how I'm going to get nearly £70 together.