RIP Smarty Pants xxx
Pants takes his final bow.
In August 2020, Smarty Pants developed a cough that, to be honest, we never really got on top of. Along with developing Vestibula Syndrome following an operation, when his bum was stitched up due to an altercation with an Old English Sheepdog, he's been in the wars.
Then recently, he took on an Alsatian, and lost that too. Still, he tried to take Hugo on again, even with the stitches still in his side. He was the King Pin in his eyes, no matter what.
Last night we had a wonderful BBQ, just the two of us and we both went to bed with fat bellies. Sadly, his cough was dreadful at around 2am and he had some kind of fit. I settled him and we both went back to sleep, but when he woke up, he was struggling to walk, struggling to breathe and in obvious discomfort.
I took him outside for some fresh air and he disappeared. So I thought he had gone to the stables to eat the cat food, as he usually does... but he hadn't. Instead, he laid under the decking of the pond where I found him a few hours later.
Lorraine and I drove him to the vets in Thurston as he was not improving and it was agreed that SP should face the final curtain. They hooked him up and took him out into the garden where I cuddled him and scratched his belly until the angels took him.
He now lies beside his dad.
A part of me has just died.
