It is the middle of the night and the dogs have woken me with their howlybags. This is not unusual but tonight the song is wrong. Bonnie cries while Clyde warbles. Spy doesn’t know when to join in and Bo doesn’t know when to finish. The choir is off key for their conductor is missing. Wag is dead.
For two months Wag had not been right. Coughing and weight lose were treated with antibiotics to no avail and so the vet suggested an X-Ray.
Brian suspected the worst. He took Wag, late one afternoon, chasing cows off the hill on his own, and said his goodbyes.
The X-Ray showed a massive growth in his lungs – cancer, so with heavy hearts and teary eyes we made that final decision. Wag died with his head on my leg. I said my thanks and kissed him farewell. Brian has buried him at Rocky.