The bank holiday weekend was tinged with tears because my girliepal Luscious Lez (LL) had to make a heart-wrenching decision to have her beloved doggie Ling put to sleep.
On Friday Ling was suffering, so we both knew it was ‘that time’.
And, although LL and myself believe in reincarnation, let’s be honest folks, that doesn’t help when you have to say farewell to your best doggy friend of 11 years.
Over the years I’ve had to send three of my pedigree pussycats to moggy heaven. Hubby No 2 The Geordie Gent would drive the cat to the vets, but couldn’t say the words.
So the vet had to phone me and I’d have to say: ‘Please put Basil/ Toby Jones/Rupert to sleep.’
So I wonder if, or when, the day comes when we can assist our human loved ones to die, could we do it?
The right to die. I know I’m opening a can of worms here.
But with the Tony Nicklinson story so high-profile recently, it really makes you think.
Tony had a massive stroke seven years ago that left him paralysed from the neck down. He wanted to die.
He was devastated by the High Court’s refusal to give him an assurance that anyone who helped him to die would not face a charge of murder.
Six days later he died.
In 2008 my dad was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumour. He died 18 months later.
But every day of that 18 months he said: ‘I just want to die.’
I tell you, it was heartbreaking.
If assisted suicide was legal, would I have helped?
Be honest folks, would you?
Now let’s end on a happy-yappy note. On bank holiday Monday I was snuggling the absolutely adorable seven-year-old Paris the Pomeranian.
Paris is a little bit of a media and magazine diva, on the dogwalk showing off the poochie fashions her owners sell in their doggie boutique.
Now I’ve decided – I want a Paris of my own.