shaw0090

Thoughts are with you today Kate.

Lovely Dusty. Good luck to you Kate.

This is the oldest picture I can find of her at the minute. I know I have some from 1992 but I can't find them. She's in a bit of a state in that picture. Could have done with a bath and a haircut. But hey, that's my Pooter. Smelling bad made her happy.

The last photo I got of her. Just found it on my phone and simultaneously burst into tears. One week and three hours before I lost her. God I miss her. I wish I'd gotten her little face in it. Thanks everyone for your kind words.

Ever since I lost her I decided I wanted a tattoo of a paw print in a heart. I spent ages Googling, and happened upon a design similar to this. It was perfect for what I wanted. So, as of three this afternoon, this is now on the inside of my left wrist. The broken heart is black and the paw print is blue. I love it. Thanks again to everyone.

She made it to the second page and I left it as long as I could. Tomorrow at 3pm I'm booked in to get a tattoo for Sandy. It's not really my style to get a tattoo, but it seems like it's the right thing to do. Nothing physical could ever hurt so much as when she was taken. Thanks to everyone who commented or read my story.

I hear you katelouise. I can't even look at her photos yet. I burst into tears. Keep going. All the best.

Sorry everyone. I'm bumping this because I can't bear to see it slip down the page. I apologise.

Ashes are coming home today.

Thank you so very much everyone. I'm still gutted, but her little face is too special to not share. Part of why it was such a difficult decision is her toughness. She had a stroke in 2004, and the vet was not hopeful at all. My Jimmer Man kept on going. I think mostly, she fought on for food. In her last week she put on 1KG! :cool: The anti-seizure medication gave her a hell of an appetite. About a month ago:

This has taken me just under a week to even be able to come back to this site. Last Wednesday, at approximately 5.30 pm, Sandy, my Jimmer Man, my Pooter, was PTS. Her kidneys were failing and it was just too much for her. I regret letting her get so bad as she did. After 16.5 years together, and having had her since I was ten, I just couldn't imagine how I was supposed to manage without her. It turns out that I'm not. That day broke me. My dad had to take her off me, because I was literally hysterical. I couldn't go with her, because I was hyperventilating into a paper bag. I miss her so desperately that I can't believe it. I miss the sound of her little feet on our floor. Her snoring, which usually meant the TV had to be blaring. I miss her little nose that used to stick out from whatever she was sleeping under or behind. I miss her little face. I can't look at her photos yet, because it's killing me. I'm telling myself she had a good last day. She was very, very ill, but still happy enough to eat (the anti-seizure medication made her ravenous). She had a cheeseburger and chicken nuggets from McDonalds, a roll of liverwurst, and some tins of her favourite tinned foods. I miss her so much. I cannot fathom how much. It's only when you sit and write something like this that you realise that words really aren't enough. My Jimmer Man, my Pooter, my Jim, my Oona, my Binky Bum, my Crazy Old Bastard, my Stinky Monkey, My Hairy Piggy, and all the other nicknames, is gone. And so is a major part of me. Thanks to those of you who read this. I appreciate the opportunity to express my sorrow to those who would have an idea of what I'm going through.