‘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.