This is not a feel-good story. There is no happy ending. As I write this, my eyes sting with tears. I feel hot and my stomach lurches every time I let my mind wander back to Friday when we lost our little doggo and best friend, Elsie. The smelly princess, who had dominated our lives for 11 years with her ridiculous underbite and her sweet personality, is gone. Our house feels empty and our hearts are forever broken. 

She may have ‘only’ been a dog, but I know that those of you who let any of the furry creatures into your hearts and into your home understand that there is no such thing as ‘just a dog’, or 'just a pet'. They quickly become part of the family, our true best friends and so to honour my girl I wanted to share some lessons that I learned from our time together.

You're more beautiful than you think

Elsie had a horrible underbite. Her teeth jutted out like that of some Bond villain. Her tongue would loll from her mouth and stick to the floor when she slept. Her jowls hung low and heavy and they jiggled dramatically whenever she burped (which was often). 

Yet everyone would smile at her and fuss over her and tell her, and us, just how beautiful she was. And they meant it. So smile, with your messed-up teeth, and your double chins and all of those little things that you dislike. They make you who you are, perfectly unique and beautiful just as you are.

When one door closes, another one opens 

Elsie would not just enter a door when asked. She was a true sun-bunny, spending her time, face lifted to the rays, drinking in the warmth. When asked to come inside she would look at us, look at the door and wait. The moment to go inside was never quite right. Until the door started to close… and then she would run, full pelt at it, confident we would open the door once again, as soon as she arrived. 

So, go at your own pace. Be confident that when you're ready, that door will open. And if it doesn't, just go around to the one at the side and scratch a few times.

Your presence is the present

I've spent a lot of my life feeling as though I'm not quite good enough. As though I don't deserve my metaphorical seat at the metaphorical table. But when I'd walk in the door, or let's face it, walk into another room, I would be greeted by my dogs as though I was the most important person in the world. Licks and kisses and wiggling bums and wagging tails. There was no proving myself or jumping through hoops, just pure, unconditional love.

So, go forward, knowing that you are worthy of all the good things. That your presence, just as you are, is enough. 

Elsie wouldn't want it any other way.