I'd hoped this was going to be a seven month old video.

But it's not.



At just twenty seven weeks old, Fletcher lost his battle with cancer; he was fine, happy and bubbly, spent ages chasing the hose on Thursday morning, but by that afternoon he'd deteriorated rapidly and started bleeding out of his nose. So Friday afternoon he finally got to rest, and escape the pain.

I decided we'd both been put through enough and it wasn't fair for me to hold onto him any longer. He was ready to go, and I needed to be strong enough to let him.

I love this dog so freakin' much; he was just the most amazing little thing to ever walk into my life, and I feel so, so lucky to have shared the past four months and three weeks with him.

Fletcher showed me that even the littlest thing, like an empty bowl on the kitchen floor, can be new and exciting; even in pain, and unable to see a thing, he'd still play and train and live- live like he deserved to for so much longer than he had the chance to. He showed me how to go about every single day like you might not get an opportunity to see another, and that scary things turn out not to be so scary once you run up and investigate them. He showed me how fun it was to be silly and unnecessarily loud, and that the best time can only be had once you put in one hundred and ten per cent effort and give it all you've got.

He gave so much love, and fun, and fire to everything he did, and everyone he met.

So, my little anomaly, my little pirate pup- I'm sorry things ended the way they did, I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you, I'm sorry no one could do more for you. You deserved everything in the world and got dealt a bloody cruel hand instead.

But for the short time you were in my life, you lived to the fullest, and were loved and doted on- and you'll always be loved, Fletch. No other dog's going to come close to you; you truly are so special, and so wonderful, and I'll miss you so much.

Love you, little pirate.