Back in 2000, when I plunged into my darkest period, I had a dog. His name was Ed. I mentioned him somewhere else in this forum.

Ed was my saviour.

If he wasn't there; needing me, I would have had no reason to get out of bed; no reason to walk out of the house, no companionship. He kept me going through this really bleak time; just the act of feeding him, walking him, cuddling him, and knowing that if I were gone, he'd have nowhere to go where he would be as loved... that alone kept me on my feet.

He was kind of a jerk, and anti-social, so I knew nobody would want him. They'd just put him to sleep; so I realized if I did something stupid, I'd be in essence, having my best friend killed.

Ed lived to only 12 years old. He had to be put to sleep for cancer last year. That was one of the hardest moments in my life; watching my old pal go. But as absurd as it sounds, and as hard as it was to make this decision that would take him away from me forever; being there with him, and hearing his great big sign after they gave him the first sedative, and seeing all his pain go away at last, I knew I'd done the right thing.

I wept on the surgical table for half an hour, and am now crying just thinking about it. My old dog. I really miss him; he meant the world to me.

There'll never be another Ed. But he was there with me when it most mattered.

Dogs rule. Treasure every second they're with you; which is never enough time.