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About a decade ago I fell in love with a chap, he was a bit of wimp, cuddly, cute, always ready for adventure and loved having his tummy tickled. His four big fat paws, oversized tongue, bandy legs and big unruly top knot made him something of a character to look at but to me he was the most beautiful, most amazing boy I’d ever met.

His name is Thai – you might have seen him mentioned in my previous posts as ThunderPad or Mr Awesome or Naughty Thai – and now, much, much too soon he has died.

I remember the first time I met Thai in person, it was when I visited the GingaNinja in Cornwall where he lived – he was all puppy like – because he was a puppy, he was naughty but only in the way that youthful exuberance makes you naughty and he had personality – the kind that reminded you of the best in people. I’d never been a dad to anyone but I soon became his daddy and we ran endlessly around the Cornish town of Bude in long beachy strolls and jumping in the sea together. It was a heavenly beginning and it never stopped being that way.

Our decade together seems too short, he epitomised my belief that life was there for living and Thai lived it with all four of his oversized paws on the pedal!

His adventures and his misadventures were many and varied and there are too many to write about here but he travelled with us to Cambodia, landing in Thailand during the middle of a civil war gun battle at Bangkok Airport – but he took this in his stride, doing nothing more than having a giant poo in the car park before we high tailed it out of there. He survived the cruddy six months in quarantine (coming out looking like a fat tub of lard). He was a mini wizard at agility and completed half marathons with me as his slo-mo companion (and of course there were numerous muddy training miles). Perhaps his greatest achievement in life though was giving heart back to this grumpy middle aged man because in Thai there was no malice, no anger and his love and compassion for the humans he cared for was immense.

My home feels very empty this morning, it misses his wandering about, his giant head, his thundering pads and oversized tongue bobbling about the house announcing his arrival long before you’ve seen him. It’s not just the house that feels empty though – I do too. He was the biggest and the best friend I’ll ever have and the little sod has had me crying near non-stop for the last week.

As he died I held him around his middle, feeling the final beats of his heart and the final breathes of his lungs, it was the most peaceful of endings for a hound of such energy and when he passed away at 8.06pm, 5th February 2018 I said good journey to the best of all puppies.

Thai you will never, ever be forgotten. See you around, my best Spuddy.

  
‘You little fucker’ is what I said to him and then smothered him with all the love I have in my body. I thought the big monster in my life was on his way out and all I knew was that it wasn’t his time. 

When I went home last night (Tuesday) the GingaNinja and I looked at each other and simply burst into tears, our much maligned but always loved spaniel wasn’t there – he was in hospital, awaiting his MRI, this was scarier than the time he put the shits up us by pretending he had cancer. But this time he’s been a bit of a pale imitation of himself for a while, however, we put it down to the arrival of UltraBaby, the attempt to integrate another dog into the house and all the general changes our lifestyle has gone through.

  
  But more recently he’s taken himself off to his bed, avoiding playtime, avoiding company and that’s not our ThunderPad. More worryingly was his inability to leap into the boot of the car and a lethargy that meant that just an hour or two of walking was more than he could handle and that’s not our ThunderPad.

When he arrived back from his latest little holiday to Wiltshire I was asked to carry him out of the car and into the house. What then happened was a level of whimpering and whining that I’d never known him to commit to – my heart absolutely sank. 

 The GingaNinja being a vet knew that something was wrong but being sensible and too emotionally attached called in one of her colleagues and then another to make sure she was making the right choice – referral and an MRI. 

The fears that she had were numerous, from slipped disc in his back to a tumour pressing down on his spine. It turns out that (unsurprisingly) he’s not built very well and has some back leg issues and a lack of strength in that region which is causing nerve problems, which in turn have been causing him significant distress.

The doctor told us that it could hopefully be managed with pain relief and a cocktail of drugs and that if we were lucky we could avoid surgery for the time being.

However, my over active Spaniel, now powered by Tramadol amongst other things, is keen not to spend the next six weeks in bed. ThunderPad is keen to be out and about chasing foxes, birds, flies, air … The list goes on but he’s restricted to his bed (or supervised in one room at a time). This is not going to suit him – but he’s alive and he’s okay.

The sad news for me is that he will probably not run long distance with me anymore. Even if his recovery was 100% I’m not sure I’d ever want to risk him over a 20 mile hilly trail run. I suspect he’s going to become a 5km plodder and maybe in the future a ParkRunner and I’ll be happy enough with that. 

 

        

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