Duke
To lose a beloved dog is a devastating loss that leaves an aching emptiness.
A pet changes you; you have a relationship unique to the two of you, and a special bond. The void they leave is deep and painful.
A dog gives unconditional love that is like no other, and when they go to doggie heaven it is hard to accept. We 
tell ourselves they´re not suffering; they´re in a better place, they are at peace, but in reality it´s a ploy to try and make us feel better.
You lose a best friend, a companion, a welcome home, a waggy tail, the sharing of a snack, someone to walk with to talk to, to make you giggle. Someone to brighten your day and so, so much more.
You hear little sounds, and for a moment you forget and think they´re still with you.
Duke was only with me for a short length of time. He turned up one morning in March, skin and bone. He had a bad case of Leishmania, sometimes referred to as known as dog aids. His stomach was affected, and no amount of food or medication made a difference. It was too late.
We enjoyed swims in the lake, runs around the mountain, and hazy summer days with a kitten we had adopted. The kitten quickly decided that Duke made a great friend and they played from dawn till dusk.
One Saturday afternoon, he literally lay down and died.
The devastation to my life kicked in. Could I have done more? He was only two years old, he deserved better. What if… Of course there were no answers, life isn´t fair.
He was buried in a lovely spot. A headstone with his name carved out marked the spot and I used to talk to him every day, sad as it may seem, I hoped for some sort of closure, but it was not to be. I felt ashamed of being so devastated over a dog, as only people who had the same experience would understand.
Gradually, as the spring arrived and his grave bloomed with an array of plants, I realised I had become accustomed to my loss.
It was around the same time, my daughter went to have a reading. I was quite sceptical, but she had just lost a friend and, as we all do, she was trying to find some sense to why her friend of only 32 with three small children, had gone.
At the end of the reading, the man put his hand down to one side. An Alsatian has joined us, he told her. She replied she never had one. For a moment, the man looked down to the spot he was now fondling (in mid-air) oh no, it´s your mum´s, he confirmed.
He wants your mum to know he´s okay and she´s to stop worrying. On the way home tomorrow, she should drive slowly down the bypass road.
My daughter took this as a warning and called me immediately.
The following afternoon, I almost decided to drive the long way around and miss the bypass road altogether, but then thought better of it. I´d just take it easy, there might be something worse on the alternative route, and anyway I didn´t believe in all this stuff, my family were probably just trying to get me over the loss the best way they knew how.
As I rounded a corner, a dog ran out in front of the car. I slammed on the brakes in shock. Was this what Duke meant? It surely couldn´t be true. I got out of the car and the beautiful Belgian Malinois ran up and started licking me. He jumped in the car.
Bodie
“Looks like you´re coming home with me then.” I ruffled his head and he sat in the passenger seat, and focused on the track all the way to the house.
For the sceptics amongst you, this might have been a coincidence, but…. Bodie´s temperament is identical to Duke´s. He is livelier; Duke would never have licked me or jumped into the car uninvited. However, if Bodie hadn´t taken the initiative, would he now have a home? In Spain, there are so many strays and this one just looked like a dog out for the afternoon. He had no chip.
One lucky dog found a nice home where he is loved, and one gorgeous boy went to live in heaven.
I´ll never forget and my love will never dwindle, but that message gave me closure and the rest is history.
Happy memories,
Pippa Pennington