I closed my eyes and remembered the day I’d picked him up almost 15 years ago - Jill Thorp

It has become even more difficult to keep a track on the long tiring days due to the virus which has well and truly messed up our routines, leaving an entire nation out of sync.

One thing is for sure, time waits for no man or in our case this last week, for no dog. In amongst our usual frantic rush to get cows turned out, sheds mucked out and disinfected, I’d been desperately trying to ignore the fact that I needed to make a decision.

A couple of months ago, my old border collie, Amos, had become unwell and the vet had told me it was essentially the beginning of the end. I’d taken him home with some medication and within a few days he was back to his old self and the overwhelming panic I’d been frantically swallowing down, slowly subsided.

I wasn’t ready and had yet to prepare myself for the inevitable heartache that I knew was on the horizon. We’ve been in this position before with our ponies and various treasured pets we’ve been lucky enough to share our lives with. But this was Amos, my dog, my soul mate and I knew my judgement and decision making was becoming blurred.

Then one morning the light was gone from his eyes. No glint of love shining out at me, and I knew. I knelt over him and buried my face into his coat, breathing him in, willing him back to good health.

I closed my eyes and remembered the day I’d picked him up almost 15 years ago. Along with his litter mates, I was puppy walking for his owner and breeder, Stuart Walton.

A talented and well respected dog trainer, Stuart was keen for them to have a ‘puppyhood’ before he started breaking them to sheep. I fell in love with Amos, a big smooth coated dog and when the time came for the others to go home, Stuart agreed to let Amos stay with me.

He was a strong-willed dog and took some stopping on sheep, but his nature was second to none. In all our years, we never had a raised voice or cross word.

He was, quite simply, my dog of a lifetime. There are few words to describe the wrenching pain that threatens to tear you apart when you feel the life slip from your dog, your shadow, your friend.

Our vet was kind, sympathetic and the deed was done. I held his lifeless body for some time, unable to stem the flow of tears pouring down my cheeks.

His passing has been a painful reminder of how short life is, but also how blessed we are to share our highs and lows with such wonderful creatures.

I buried him at my mother’s, in his special place where in his latter years he loved to doze in the sunshine.

And for one last time I uttered the words, “Away lad”.