Nine Years On...
29th March, 2014. I'm fifteen years old and in the backseat of the car on the drive back from Hartlepool. Beside me is a big cardboard box, and inside that box, my new Labrador puppy, Piper. Unable to resist, I pick up my squirming little girl and put her on my lap, vaguely listening to mum's warnings to just leave her in her box. I ignore mum's words, already in love with her deep brown eyes and floppy little ears. My fingers are combing through her soft black puppy fur when I become aware of the dark stain spreading across my jeans. She's just peed on me. And thus our friendship was born. 5th February, 2023. I am twenty five now, and my dog is dying. Somehow I have blinked, and nine years have flashed by in a blur of walks, games of fetch, a litter of puppies and dozens and dozens of sleepovers. Her eyes are still the same deep brown they were when we first met, but her face is peppered with grey, the only real indication that time has passed at all. She still lic...