Yesterday we said goodbye to Wilbur. At 13, he was a pretty good age for a dog of his size, and certainly for one with a rough start in life. His legs were getting increasingly weak and we wanted to be able to take him while he still appeared to be enjoying life and not wait until his quality of life deteriorated. Wilbur was able to walk up the quite long driveway to the vet, and I think that’s a nicer thought than him having to be carried.
We’ll miss him as was such a lovely dog and really didn’t ask much from life (other than chocolate drops and yogurt).