I had the best intentions

and truly did want to write a blog about my time away with my three, and Christmas in general.

But I'm not going to. Not tonight.

Because I got home and my dog is not himself. He was taken care of while we were away, but when I went out to see him when I got home, he didn't do the obligatory run over to me to say he was glad to see me.

He seems tired.

He seems weary.

After the kids went to bed I just sat out with him, stroking his head and his back and crying, telling him how much I love him.

My dog has been with me for 14.5 years. He is a big dog, and big dogs of his breed aren't "supposed" to live for that long. But he has. And the thought of him not being there is just a little too much to deal with.

He has got me through a hell of a lot. A truly mammoth amount of life events have occurred since my beautiful boy came into my life. And he has always been there for me, listening to me, loving me.

Pets are goldfish. Or hermit crabs. Or sea monkeys.

Dogs are not the same. Dogs become like family. They manage to get into your heart. They look at you and they understand you, if not actually, then emotionally. And they love you unconditionally.

I know that my boy will not be with me for much longer, and the tears are cascading like a waterfall down my cheeks as I think about it. I think tonight, seeing him like he is, just so tired, makes it just that bit too real.

I am hoping that it is just the heat that has knocked him around. It may be. I don't know. I do know that I feel physically ill and just can't stop crying. And I am just so sure something will happen soon. And I don't want it to. But that won't change anything.

I know that he knows how much I love him. And much as with my children, I wish I could have given him more, done more for him.

I'm probably rambling. It happens. Emotion all but destroys rationality on many occasions.

I have a lump in my throat. Probably a similar size to the lump I discovered on my baby's back last week.

The tears just keep on coming.

I know he has "had a good innings." I know he is older than most dogs of his breed live to be. It doesn't make it any easier to think of being without him.

But if it is his time, then it is his time.

I know though that whenever the day comes that he is no longer in this world, I will be inconsolable. He isn't even gone and just the thought of it happening soon is almost too much for me.

When he was a puppy his face looked like a cartoon animal that had had TNT explode in their face. His beard just went straight outwards. He was a mad little doggy. He used to lie underneath my feet as I would sit and play the piano. He would sleep at the foot of my bed. He would fiercely protect me if he thought I was in danger. He has spent months being an ear for my sad ramblings of things now past.

He was for such a long time almost a part of me.

I may be being overly dramatic. I'm not. Drama is not what it is. Emotion is what it is. And it is instinctive and unable to be restrained.

I hope he wakes up ok. I hope he is with us for a long time to come.

And if he isn't, I hope he knows how much he is and was loved in his life.