WHEN LOVE MEANT LETTING GO: FAREWELL, MY DEAR BOY. THANK YOU FOR IT ALL.
I’ve sat here for hours, searching for words that could capture this storm inside me. How do you express a heartbreak so deep, yet overflowing with gratitude? How do you bid farewell to a soul who never spoke a word but understood you better than anyone?
Yesterday, I said goodbye to Alfie, my loyal companion. My shadow. The scruffy little guardian who turned our house in Bristol into a home and brightened every day for fourteen years.
The silence now is deafening. No patter of paws on the hardwood floor. No joyful thump of his tail against the sofa when I return. No nudge against my knee when I’ve worked too long. Just stillness—a hush that aches with his absence, yet whispers he’ll never truly be gone.
Alfie found me when I didn’t know I needed saving. Fresh out of uni, I’d moved to a tiny flat in Manchester, equal parts thrilled and terrified. At the shelter, he was a scrappy little thing, curled in a corner with ears too big for his head. The moment our eyes met, something shifted.
I didn’t pick Alfie. He picked me.
That first night, he whined until I lifted him onto the bed. From then on, he never left my side. Whether I was cooking, weeping, or laughing at some telly show—Alfie was there. Life could be chaotic, but he never minded. He didn’t need perfection—just presence. In return, he gave love so pure it humbled me.
Alfie had a gift for making ordinary moments magical.
He’d lose his mind over a battered tennis ball. He’d spin in circles chasing his own tail like it owed him money. He’d press his nose to the window during rainstorms, mesmerised by the droplets.
Every dawn, he’d wait by the curtains, eager to watch pigeons in the garden. Every night, he’d curl against me as if to say, “We did alright today, didn’t we?”
He wasn’t just a pet—he was the rhythm of my days. A steady comfort. A friend who asked for nothing but love.
Last year, Alfie slowed. His boundless energy faded into gentle pauses. He napped more, trotted slower. His bright eyes clouded; his hearing dwindled. At first, I told myself it was just age. But then he skipped meals. Stopped greeting me at the door. Had accidents on the rug—something he’d never done. A quiet dread settled in my chest.
Vet visits multiplied. We tried medicines, special foods, osteopathy. Some days, he’d rally, and I’d cling to those glimpses of his old self. But the truth was clear: Alfie was weary.
Last week, he refused food entirely. He barely stirred. His eyes—still as wise as the day we met—now held exhaustion. One evening, I lay beside him on the floor, stroking his scruff, and whispered, “If it’s time, you can go. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Saying it shattered me.
The next morning, I made the call. Cradled in his favourite tartan blanket, I kissed his head again and again. Told him he was the bravest, kindest boy. That he’d done enough. That he could rest.
In that quiet room, with Chopin playing and my tears soaking his fur, Alfie slipped away. Softly. Sweetly. Just as he’d lived—with quiet grace and endless love.
The grief is tidal. I still listen for his collar jingling. Automatically check his water bowl. Reach for his lead by habit. But he’s not there.
Yet I feel him everywhere.
In the breeze through the kitchen window he loved.
In sudden memories of him tripping over his own paws, making me laugh through tears.
In the patch of sunlight on the carpet where he’d sprawl like a lion.
When I’m at my lowest, his spirit nudges me onward. To keep loving. To find joy. Because Alfie never wasted a single day without it—and that’s his final gift to me.
If I could tell him one more thing: “Thank you. For choosing me. For every wag, every stolen biscuit, every time you licked away my tears. For loving me at my worst and rejoicing at my best. I’ll miss you eternally—but I’ll carry you with me always.”
Alfie, you weren’t just my dog. You were my heart. My steadfast little hero. Life without you feels off-kilter, but I know you’re free now. Racing through meadows. Chasing rabbits in some sunlit beyond.
Thank you for being mine. I loved you then. I love you still. Until we meet again. ♥
To Anyone Mourning a Pet:
If you’ve known this loss, you understand. How a piece of you leaves with them. But remember: the love you gave, the home you made—that was their entire world. And they knew.
The pain is fierce because the love was real. Uncomplicated. Rare.
So grieve freely. Speak their name. Cherish the chaos, the quirks, the quiet nights. Because they mattered. They always will.
