Yesterday I received the heartbreaking news that my beautiful dog has died.

Millie (Millenium as named by my 8 year old self and 6 year old sister, much to the dismay of my mum) was born just before Christmas in 1999. She was 14 at the end of her life, outliving her life expectancy by 2 years - not bad for an overweight dog with a penchant for chocolate.

She was a bit mad, I'll admit. After years of her golden fur blending in with the carpet and thus finding herself under my dad's feet as he tried to get ready for work in the early morning, she was given to randomly biting him, securing his place firmly at the bottom of the pecking order.

Really, she was a complete mummy's girl. A real member of the family with a personality and intelligence that enchanted us throughout our childhood.

She loved to bark even if she was stone deaf in the end. She loved to beg for food then drop it mournfully and beg for more. She loved to be picked up and made a fuss of and sat on laps like a huge teddy bear. She loved to go mad before a walk and then pull to go home after 10 minutes.

If I sound like a crazy dog lady it's because I am. No animal can make me smile like a dog can. Nothing can inject sunshine into my veins like a wriggling puppy. But there really is no dog like my beautiful first and only. 

Forever loved and missed.