Almost a month ago Milo left us. It was sort of expected, but still sudden. He died in hospital after an emergency operation to remove some bits of plastic toys from his stomach. We have been prepared to say “goodbye” for quite some time because he has gone downhill over the past few months. His dementia had been getting worse by the day. We knew we were going to make the decision to put him to sleep soon: to spare him suffering from being confused and for our daughter’s safety, as he had shown aggression towards her. However, Milo decided to take matters into his own paws, and I am glad it happened this way. I will be honest and admit that it is also a relief. It had become very difficult in the last few months because of the safety concerns. I was under a lot of pressure to keep a constant eye on Milo and Sonya (who is two and can’t be trusted to keep her distance). I only wish we had a chance to say a proper “goodbye”.
We miss Milo a lot here and we will always miss him. He had been a part of our family ever since my husband and I moved out of our parents’ houses and moved into our first flat. We were eighteen and nineteen, and Milo was eight months old. Milo had been with us all our adult lives. He moved with us (twice across the Atlantic) and shared our ice creams (guilty!), our travels and, at some point, even our bed. He kept us warm in our first (very poorly insulated) flat in England. He was there when we brought home our daughter. Milo had been the reason I decided to become a certified dog trainer, and he probably taught me more than my dog training course. He was stubborn, independent, sometimes very annoying but always loving and loved. It had been almost a month, but I still sometimes expect him to be there – snoring on the sofa when I come downstairs in the morning. The house just seems too empty without a dog.
We will always remember our Milo.