This is a tribute to a much loved Shoreham beach dog, Aero, our lovely Choccy Labrador,  left us on Tuesday 17th March.
On Monday morning I was chatting to Allen next door after walking Aero down on the beach, it was another gloriously sunny day and she laid out on the warm driveway looking serenely comfortable, her nose continually twitching as she picked up the scents in the air around. I remarked to Allen that I’d like to come back as a dog, or at least one that gets to live like Aero, Allen said he’d been happy as a human, the general vein really was that on days such as these, everything is fine in the world and we’re happy with our lot.

Aero: 16-03-09

Aero’s been suffering stomach issues just lately, which we hoped her change of diet would sort out in time. On the vets advice we’ve been feeding her chicken and rice rather than her dog food, a bland diet, easy to digest and not too hard on her system apparently, we’ve had this problem before and the chicken and rice sorted it out then. Unfortunately the problem persisted so their next advice was to change to egg and rice after starving her for 24 hours and then bring her in on Monday afternoon for a check up. Although I knew she wasn’t right, I didn’t overly worry as she just seemed under the weather, maybe a virus which could be treated with anti biotics.

Simon came round sometime after lunch and whisked her off for a walk over on the recreation ground by the river where, true to form she sniffed out biscuits in other dog walkers pockets and got a free feed, then jumped into the river water by the Floodarch bridge, as she likes to do, and on return got a towel down, which she also loves. I wish I could stop the clocks at that moment, that innocent time before you know.

Lizbet had turned up and was sitting in the porch with Ma having a smoke in the warmth of the afternoon sunshine, waiting for Simon and Aero to return to whisk her off to the vets. Getting her into the van, Aero went straight for the bin between the seats, it had the empty bag that had earlier contained some barbecue chicken, well worth investigation, and off they went.

The first thing that struck me when I heard Lizbet and Aero back was, ‘that was quick, must’ve got the wrong day’, so I wandered down the hall to the kitchen where one look at Lizbets tearful face breaking down, and I remember hearing her heart breaking words, “cancer, they said she’s riddled with it, they were going to put her down there and then, but I wanted to bring her back first to say goodbye”, at which point I pretty much crumbled myself and just managed to ask through the tears and my face turning to uncontrollable jelly, “can I take her for a walk?”.

I stuck a big pair of sunglasses on to cover the tears and took our lovely Brown Bomber to the beach, letting her sniff whatever she wanted and go wherever she pleased. All the time thinking, ‘right, we know so let’s make her last moments good ones’, it was our Monday night family dinner, so she could be with everyone for one last night, lick all the plates she’d been denied since her illness, because it couldn’t hurt her anymore now, and tomorrow take her down to her favourite place, Widewater lagoon so she could jump in, chase birds, and roll in anything that stinks, this is what I wanted to say, but when the time came as I walked back through the door, I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak, my face disintegrating into tears, so I just spurted out, “bollocks” out of annoyance and frustration, and went down the hall to let myself go in the computer room.

 Squire (Da) came along to give a few words of comfort and tell me it’s for her own good as I wept like a child, I knew all that, and just managed to get my point across, ‘how many people get to know this is their last moment?, and have the chance to make it the best possible last moment, I just want her to do all the things she loves before we take her in’, I’d thought it all through while on the beach earlier, and it almost didn’t happen because I couldn’t speak.

Bear in mind here, mine wasn’t the only heart breaking, but maybe grief is selfish on some level, when I’m that crushed I just want solitude and to not be seen. With that in mind, I now knew I couldn’t face that ‘last dinner’, it was all prepared and on the go, I just couldn’t do it so off I trudged into the evening in my sunglasses. Apparently the meal went fine, and Aero licked every plate clean and got thoroughly spoilt, finally being picked up by Lizbet so they could have her for one last night, sleeping on the bed with them and playing games.

 I should mention that Aero was Lizbet and Reggie’s dog, but through circumstances had being staying with us, firstly part time, eventually becoming full time, much to our delight, she was a true family dog.

 Well Reggie, poor lad, arrived at our door first thing (6.45a.m ish) Tuesday morning wanting to say goodbye before being picked up for work, she’d been his dog since 4 years old, and he’ll soon be 17, and this would be his first bereavement. Holding back his tears he said his goodbye in hugs and kisses as Aero enjoyed all this attention being lavished on her until he had to break away and catch his lift, Aero’s stare following him all the way down the road, ears up and wondering why he wasn’t coming with us.

 The vet was booked for 8.15a.m, so me and Lizbet set off at 7 to take our pup on her last walk down at Widewater lagoon, where she did do all those things she loves most, she galloped around the wild lawns, sniffing at everything, she jumped in the lagoon twice, rolled in some fox poo, which absolutely reeked on her, rolling around as we laughed at her, she’d stop for a second to look at us, as if to say, ‘how come you’re not stopping me?’, and then she rolled some more, not wanting to miss out on this rare opportunity. Revelling in this liberty she bounded towards the waddling swans to gee them up a bit, then caught another scent and changed direction as she is oft wont to do, her nose always being her main guide.

 We had a towel with us to rub her down, but the aroma wasn’t moving so she got another wash down at home followed by one last rub down with a clean towel, this also was always something of a game for Aero as she wriggled through the towel, stepped on it, or rolled over in it.

Aero seemed reluctant at first to get into the van, eventually drawn by the barbecue chicken smell from the bin, and we left. She walked happily up to the vets door and in, “she always does” Lizbet told me, and then we’re given the spiel about payment methods, not very tactful and somewhat annoying, I just wanted the receptionist to shut up. Aero seemed oblivious to it all, nose in the air sniffing around, back legs slipping on the shiny floor and she’d readjust her position, and then, payment made, the vet comes through and says, “ready now”. I felt sick inside, and then I looked at Aero, she sat rooted with a look of fear on her face, Lizbet put her lead on but she just dropped on all fours to the floor, her face saying, ‘please don’t do this’, she definitely knew what was going on. I had to pick her up and carry her into the surgery, tears already rolling down my cheek. The vet telling us there would be no pain, it wouldn’t take long, and Lizbet held our pup’s head in her hands while the injection was administered while I cuddled her limp warm body as the effects took hold. She went so quietly, resigned to her fate, while Lizbet and I sobbed over her.

I’ve been trying to keep all those last moments in my head, desperate not to forget anything, but it’s the little things around the house, not seeing her nose pressed to the glass pane of the kitchen door as I come out of my bedroom, not having her follow me everywhere until I put her lead on and take her out, watching her nose up in the air sniffing whatever scents were lingering inside or out, no more rolling about on the carpet or grass to scratch an itch, no more of her dog food alarm clock as she nudged us to remind us it’s her feeding time, no more the feel of her lovely soft coat, cold wet nose, loud slurping as she ate, or just being sat at your feet because that’s all she really wanted, to love and be loved back, which she was.

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