Had to have our dear dog PTS today - he had tumours in his bottom, liver and spleen. Despite this he was actually pretty well, he was 15 and still happily eating and going for walks. It was just the last couple of days he went downhill and we had to let him go.
He was such a lovely dog - he saw me through depression after losing my mum, walked by my side by the canal through the years of struggling with infertility and then then became such a friend to my DD when I was lucky enough to become a mum. He slept on my feet when I had pneumonia and stole an enormous amount of food (collie/lurcher) but always did it with such panache that we didn't really mind. (He stole a cheese roll once and actually picked out the cucumber, he hated cucumber).
He was a brilliant dog and I'm so, so sad that he's gone. I want to call his name and have him come running in. I'm dreading his empty bed and I want him back.