The Best Dog

Day 9, Monday 26th March 2018

It’s Bernard’s third Birthday today. But he’s not here.

Three weeks ago, I waved goodbye to my noble little pooch as he went to a new home. It was indescribably sad, I spent the entire weekend prior running through cycles of tears, pain and upset over the culmination of this decision I had made.

I’m nervous talking about it, because the narrative of “a dog is for life, not just for Christmas” runs deep in my mind, the shame of being one of those people who re-homed their dog. However, people and life change, my situation now is fundamentally different to the one I was in when my ex and I got him.

For three years I gave him everything he could want, he was the most kind, caring, sweet and excitable dog, who would try and make friends with every other dog he met. He was the best dog, in more ways than one, I’ve got a rosette on the wall from a dog show where he was actually crowned best dog. He deserved this recognition.

His brain would run rings around me in training, yet he would wait patiently whilst I was at out at university, with friends or hammering away at my computer, but always be ready to give me a cuddle at night when I went to bed. He’d run seven miles with me, with the widest grin on his face as we hurtled around Wanstead Flats exploring his favourite places…