To my boy, more than ‘just a dog’

Dear Arnold,

It’s been a little over a year since we brought you home, but our story had started long before that. I’d wanted you for over a decade but had waited until the time was right – when your Dad mentioned he thought we were ready for a puppy I have to admit I cried I was that happy (silly, I know!).

From the second we picked you up we were your ‘Mum and Dad’. Before you we didn’t have to worry about who was going to be home when, now it was ‘who’s going to feed him?’ and ‘have you booked his vaccinations?’, the flat was overrun with toys and blankets and bowls and treats.

It was a test for us as a couple, would we get stressed out with each other with the added responsibility? The answer? No. We were a team and it was proof, if proof were needed, that I had found a real partner in your Dad. He already woke me every morning with a cup of tea, but now with your arrival, it would be accompanied by the tap, tap, tap of your paws on the hard floor as you bolted into the bedroom, your little face would appear at the edge of the bed, eager for cuddles and attention.

Everyone who met you fell in love with your sweet, smushy face, and you loved the attention. On every walk you’d slow down as we passed a group of people, keen to say hello and hoping they would make a fuss of you, which they invariably did.

We started to notice early on that things might not be quite right, being fussy with food and stubborn on walks, but a chat with the Vet suggested you were probably fine and just trying to test the boundaries to see how we’d respond, normal puppy stuff. Then at a routine appointment things appeared not to be fine. You’d been with us just 5 weeks and they said they wanted to keep you in, wanted to run some tests. They thought it was a problem with your liver, that you’d need an operation. It was a shock, there were tears but ok, we could do this. There’d be medication and a special diet to begin with, you had a tummy full of free fluid, you’d have to take things a bit easier but you had a chance.

Weeks passed and you seemed to be responding, happily taking your medication (you’d eat anything mixed with yogurt) so you were booked in to see the specialist to prepare for your op. I didn’t like leaving you there overnight but I knew they’d take good care of you.

They called that evening. They’d done more tests, it wasn’t your liver, it was your heart. Persistent Atrial Standstill. You could have days, you could have weeks, they didn’t know.

Another phone call the next day to say that it had been touch and go during the night but that you were much happier and I could come and pick you up. The scrawny bundle of energy that greeted me was a shock. They’d drained the fluid that had slowed you down so much, you weighed nothing when I picked you up, your fur was all patchwork where they’d have to shave you for scans and tests but you were so happy to see me.

Back at home you had a new lease of life. A new regime of medication (hidden in more yogurt!) but you were a true puppy again, being cheeky and biting everything as you were teething. We’d been warned that your heart could just stop suddenly at any moment, otherwise you’d start to decline and we’d have to make a call. We decided we’d take each day as it came, make the most of the time we had with you.

As the days and weeks went on you got stronger and stronger. We thought you’d somehow beat the odds. Maybe you’d make it to a year, maybe even two. You were a little fighter.

Then I was woken at 5:30am on a Monday morning, not with the usual cup of tea but with the news that ‘Arnold’s not good’. Dashing out of bed and into the living room there you were, in your own little bed. There’d been no clues the day before, you were your naughty little self yet there you lay, the tip of your little pink tongue poking out, motionless. You didn’t even reach six months.

The Vet said it had been quick, that you wouldn’t have known. Even though it was a shock for us I know it was better that way.

Now we have a new little lad, Junior. We've told him all about his big brother, because you'll always be part of our family. I had your little heartbeat tattooed on my ankle so you'll forever be a part of me too.

Love Mum x