Everybody knows the end; don't wanna get there wishing that you'd given more

Losing my little dog to cancer has proven something of a turning point in life.
Those who have loved and lost a dog will understand; for those who have never gone through it, my thoughts and feelings on the issue may be difficult to comprehend.

It's amazing how a dog becomes such an enormous part of your life and a member of your family. Our boys have always been particularly spoiled; they have their own armchairs in the kitchen, the by-product of a recent enough house renovation. Oz, my dalmatian cross (who possesses the body of a dalmatian on the legs of a corgi), now sits alone in his armchair whilst Archer's remains empty. My heart feels somewhat empty without my clever little monster. The house is not our home; it will be in time, but not now, not without Archer.

Archer's death has achieved one victory; it has steeled my determination to live my life to the full. In his 8 years on the planet Archer survived death at 6 months old shortly after being abandoned by his owners, lived in an animal rescue for almost a year, survived being hit by a car, survived a fall into a canal which a fire brigade refused to rescue him from, lost a piece of his ear, escaped about 17 times and so on. I could go on. Genetic misfortune, which landed him in that 5-7% of dogs who would contract a particularly vicious form of canine cancer, was the only thing that stopped my little beagle.

My outlook on life has changed somewhat; I've never been more sure of what I want to do when I finish college for one. I also finally managed to find myself a job. I guess it takes a shock to the system to clear your head. Life's too short to waste it worrying about ifs and buts. Life is out there to be lived. My little beagle lived, now I'm going to follow that same philosophy.