The second to leave us was little Billy, or as we'd affectionately called him Billy Bob. He's acquired the name because his little head use to bob up and down as he walked, Steve use to say that from behind he looked like a pigeon. Billy had been a weak feral kitten when Steve found him in the grounds of Glynllifon in 2002. I guess he saved his life was a digestive biscuit and some cold tea. By the time I met him a few hours later he was a hissing spitting little firecracker, but he was so small that I just picked him up and laughed. The years sure did mellow the little man and the feral firecracker became the sweetest of chaps. Until this year Billy had never been ill, but really 2018 had a lot of ups and down for the boy. In June that decision that we dread so much had to be made. I'll never forget saying goodbye to Billy, at the vets he was quiet and calm, the snotty nosed, flea ridden feral kitten in him was long gone. It was all so peaceful and unexpectedly relaxed. As the vet did what he had to do, Billy just nuzzled his little head into my chest and purred away until he took his last breath. Through endless tears there was complete trust and seemingly an understanding of the situation. Quickly, quietly and peacefully our Billy was gone.
I hope in 12 months time that I'm sitting here writing and that all my beautiful family are still here with me .. and the icing on the cake would be a litter of GSD's either in someones belly .. or maybe even by then in the kitchen!