Just before Christmas 2020, I said goodbye to my dear companion Ozzie. For some people he may have just been a dog, but for me he was a dear friend, companion, and confidante.

He was never far from my side, loved a road trip and we had many great adventures together, exploring new places, holidaying up and down the British Isles. He loved a caravan holiday but was also partial to a travel lodge. He had been to John O Groats, to the most southerly point of Scotland and lots of places in between. The Cotswolds, Stonehenge, Isle of Wight, and Bath to name just a few places. He saw many Castles and Country Houses; he was a well-travelled dog.

For nearly 9 years he was a big part of my life. People say they become part of the family, he certainly did, I often referred to him as the boy I never had. It was the week before I moved to a new house that we said goodbye, I so wanted him to experience living there, he would have loved it. I miss not having memories of him in that house. It doesn’t make it easier for me. Grief works in so many ways, what helps one does not necessarily help another, there is no one way or right way. I disagree with the hierarchy some give to grief; this grief or loss is worse than that grief or loss. The way I see it, grief is grief and its painful, because you loved.