I am terribly sad to report that after a valiant battle against cancer and two operations in the past ten months Clyde had to be put to sleep yesterday, aged eleven. He had the blessing of remaining reasonably active up until about two weeks ago and his decline was rapid in the last few days, leaving us with no real choice.
Everyone who knew him will confirm Clyde was the complete gentleman, the friendliest dog on Earth and, despite weighing almost twelve stone, in his younger days quite an athlete too. Until very recently he looked forward eagerly to walking several miles a day. He was always fascinated by the day's new smells and very fond of a paddle in ponds or streams. It is hard for me to imagine strolling around the local countryside without him. I don't expect I shall be able for some time to stop myself looking for him in his usual places around the home.
Though we have successfully rehomed rescue dogs for decades, some of you will perhaps be aware of the depressing events that had befallen us in the months immediately preceding his arrival in our home. Suffice it to say Clyde was the perfect antidote to our loss of confidence in our own abilities and restored our faith in dog-kind at the same time.
Bless you, Clyde. Thank you. You were one of a kind.