A few days ago, I had to say goodbye to Bruno, a Chocolate Labrador.
He wasn’t my dog, but I’d looked after him three days a week for several years and also when his owners were away on holiday.
We bonded well and he developed his own routines which he immediately adopted every time he stepped in through our front door.
He was intelligent, big hearted and in thrall to the extraordinary capacity of his digestive system, which got him into trouble on more than one occasion.
At Bruno’s own home there was a well established plum tree which unfailingly produced a huge crop every year. I once saw a plum fall from the tree right in front of his nose.
In one fluid and oft practiced move, he scooped it up, removed the flesh and spat out the stone. The trouble was, being a Labrador, he wasn’t content to leave things there.
Once, when no-one was about, he ate windfall plums until there were no more to be had. A while after, a gurgling stomach signalled that disaster was about to strike and he was ushered outside with seconds to spare.
Over the years both front legs were operated on for elbow dysplasia and he managed to rupture both cruciate ligaments at different times.
None of those procedures dimmed his spark for life or lessened his love of a good walk.
When he stayed here, he would unfailingly get me up at some ungodly hour so I could let him out for reasons of ‘personal comfort’.
Of course, when we both came back in, he was asleep in minutes and I was wide awake. He never did grasp the unfairness of that arrangement.
He was also an Olympic class snorer. In the middle of the night I would often hear him at the other end of the hall creating a fearsome racket.
How his own snores didn’t wake him up is beyond me.
Sadly, time eventually caught up with him and he became increasingly lame on one front leg. Both back legs rapidly weakened, and the time came when he had to be helped into the next world.
I was at the Vet’s to say goodbye to the old dog and held a front paw as he quietly slipped away.
He was 13½ which, for a Labrador, was a pretty good innings and he’d had a good life. I was still sad to see him go.
I keep expecting to see his huge domed head peering round the door or hearing the thump of his ever wagging tail beating against the furniture or wall.
Goodbye old chap. I miss you.