‘He just can’t do it any more. Miles he’d walk. Every day. Now he can hardly get to the end of the road. And food! He’s hardly eating. His digestive system seems to be shot. Just … don’t ask.’
‘Well he’s a pretty decent age you know. He’s done well. He’s not going to get any better. You might consider whether it’s time to put him out of his misery, before he really starts to suffer’.
‘To be honest, I’d been wondering myself. Just let me get used to the idea.’ said Rover, with a business-like flick of his tail.
Margaret Lawrenson blogs at From Pyrenees to Pennines