Died on the vets' operating table minutes before an operation to remove a cancerous growth from his spleen or liver (not sure which).
Didn't even realise the poor bugger was ill 'til last night.
Returned from a dogwalk yesterday evening and he didn't eat his grub.
Looked poorly this morning so I booked a slot at the vets'.
Slowly lost his sparkle throughout the day.
Died in my arms as I comforted him before the op.
There's a big hole where he used to be.
It was a huge privilege and one of the greatest pleasures of my life to have been the keeper of this enthusiastic bundle of joy throughout his existence.
Our little gang was gifted from above to have known him.
Lucky me. And Georgie. And wee Jocky.
See y'again chum.