A year ago today....

This darling boy was put to sleep.

G and I, when we decided to get a dog, had decided on one, already docked, cocker spaniel. I had big issues with the docking, and there was no way on this earth would I have ever considered it. G was adamant they needed doing; so my compromise was; we get a dog whose tail has already been horribly chopped off.

Then we met Harvey & Arnold.

Arnold was the only black puppy in the litter. He was such a friendly puppy, kept throwing himself at us; it was impossible to not love him. So, what was one dog that had a docked tail, became 2 that had tails.

Obviously, I fell in love. They adored each other; couldn't be without each other. We couldn't even walk them on the other sides of the road without them crying for the other. Arnold was far more independant, but he still needed his brother.

As they grew older, their individual personalities shone through. I often said that it was very difficult to believe that they came from the same litter; so different were their looks and their temprements.

Arnold was a very independant dog who lived for us. If someone was coming down the drive, he'd let us know. He was happiest sitting beside you getting a scratch.

He wasn't really a kids dog; you could tell he thought they were loose cannons. He'd sit under the table when R was getting particularly loud, or went for the safety of his bed.

At the river, he'd come into his own. A true water dog; spent hours in the water. Whereas his brother had to be carried in when it was 40 degrees.

The problem with Arnold wasn't one *big* problem; it was a continuation of many many little problems.

No matter how close we shaved him, no matter what we did; Arnold would always get grass seeds. Not just the kind that annoyed and then got themselves out; but the kind that needed surgery. After he'd died, I went through his medical history (well, vet bills in his folder) - 27 grass seeds. So, at least 20 rounds of surgery. We desexed him and microchipped him while he was in there for a grass seed. His brother, on the other hand, who followed him everywhere; never had a one. "what an unlucky dog!!!" the vet said once.

Arnolds next big problem was kidney stones. He had ruptured his entire penis, which had to be rebuilt. It turned out that Cocker spaniels were prone to kidney stones, and if he'd been a girl, he'd have probably just passed them through no problems. But, of course he was a boy. 3 rounds of surgery, and an awful lot of pain later; my darling boy was back on his feet.

A couple of years after that (with grass seeds in between of course), I took Arnold to the vet because he wasn't eating. For him to not eat was like the world ending - he always inhaled his food. After X-rays etc, it was disovered that he'd eaten a banksia husk. It had lodged and started to turn his intestines and stomach septic.

So, 75% of his stomach and 90% of his intestines were removed. And the husk. He'd never eat anything interesting again, but he was alive, happy and, most importantly, well.

Life continued again, including the grass seeds. Christmas last year, we noticed him limping. Another grass seed. But, after a couple of days, he was fine again, so we thought we'd gotten off lucky.

A few weeks after that, Arnold starting limping again. Only, it wasn't just one leg; it was all four. It was quite bizarre to watch him walk - so after checking that there were no swollen points (grass seeds) etc, we took him up to the vet in astonishment.

The vet found his toenails were painfully dropping off. And, in our decking, it was hurting him more when they did fall off; because they were being ripped off.

The vet suggested she keep him to do a few tests on him. Ok we said.

That afternoon the vet called; Arnold was ready to be picked up.

"He has a disease called SLO" She said. Basically, that meant that his immune system was starting to attack him. Eventually, kill him. She showed me where it had started attacking the ears, eyes and feet.

She gave us the option of having intensive chemotherapy for 3 days a week with a hope of fighting it. Or, we could put him down. It was our option.

So we took him home and, after the kids went to bed, sat down with hoppy and asked him. His eyes told me that to keep him, would be selfish on my part. He'd had enough of vets and blood tests and surgery and medication - he was only 7 years old.

So, I made my decision. My parents came and picked up the kids, and I said a long goodbye to my darling boy. I couldn't bear to take him up to the vet (although now I wish I had), so my husband did.

It was the worst day I can remember. It still hurts, although it's no longer so raw.

I love you Hoppity kick and I always will.