To the very end .

A rough night. This morning Wilfs body uncooperative. Gums pale, legs leaden. Not defeated but the will to fight finally gone. He pulls himself out into the garden, settling in the shade of the orchard. His favoured spot.

Familiar, comforting sounds. The frogs in the village pond, Finches, Redstarts, Cicadas, the squabbling sparrows. I sit by him. He lets out a long ' I'm oh so tired ' sigh. Wrapped in his blanket, head buried deep into my lap, back leg sticking out at that comical angle that's always made us laugh. An overgrown puppy. Fur warm to the touch in the morning sun.

There on the cool grass a last chance for dog and master to talk. A look that says so much. '' Is this it ? Will it hurt ? We had good times didn't we ? Do you remember that seal on the beach ? ". He falls asleep then wakes with a start, body tense. '' You'll stay with me ? ". ' To the very end ' I find myself replying aloud. Of this one thing he can be sure. A conversation dog people will understand.

The morning air powerful with the scent of roses and sage. He can't keep water down. Kidneys failing. Far away over the mountains, lightning, and a distant baritone of thunder. The senior vet arrives. Wilfs tail wags. An old friend come to see him. A quick check. A nod of the head. The injection. A gentle 'Adieu' as the needle goes in. A half yawn.'The Font' cradles him. Suddenly the years flare up and are gone ; quicker than a minute . '' Good boy " said to deaf ears.

Wilfs journey completed with dignity. Laughter to the end. All dogs, all people, should go like this. Gently. Unafraid. Loved . Respected. 

Give me a couple of hours and he'll lie next to his brother, on top of the ridge, sheltered by the old oak trees. A view to the mountains . A spot where the house lights linger at night. A good place for a family hero.