My darling dog Seth

I have been rather quiet since the May elections. No, it is not because I have gone into an almighty sulk because Boris is the Mayor of London but that I have been looking after my darling dog Seth. Although I had known for some weeks that Seth had an inoperable tumour (the first two he's had been removed), it wasn't until three weeks ago that we both had to admit that things weren't going to be the same and despite numerous rallies, the trend from then on would be downward.

We finally had to ask the vet to come over and put him to sleep this Saturday just gone. The house is so quiet and empty it is almost unbearable.

My darling dog Seth was with me for 9 years and for all but about 18 months of that time it has been him and me. He is part of what makes my home, home.

I could tell you the whole story of my wonderful, remarkable, unique dog but that would be indulgent. But I have found in the last three weeks whilst I have been looking after him I have been unable to write.

Pet bereavement is a much underestimated phenomenon and whilst I have had numerous other pets, Seth has been my longest and closest pal. His physical presence in the house was enormous; not because he was particularly big but because he was interested in everything and loved company. So you would find him at your elbow, supervising anything you were doing. He inveigled his way into the affections of my partner, my parents, friends, his dog sitter, various work men, decorators, kitchen fitters, gardeners, cleaning ladies and even the Ocado delivery man. I used to lie in bed and feel comforted by the synchronised breathing of the dog at the side of my bed and my partner beside me.

This loneliness will pass, I know but in the meantime, for all those of you who have ever lost a loved pet, I commend Blemie's Will to you, via the EASE website, written by Eugene O'Neill to comfort his wife.