The past few days have been rather upsetting. Our much loved dog, Florence has been very poorly indeed. Ten years old may not sound like much for many breeds, but for modern St Bernards, it's a very venerable age indeed. She's been getting frailer these past few months, but still feisty. Her once ferocious bark has begun to sound rather croaky. She doesn't spend hours out of doors any more, but prefers to lie in the kitchen.

And then, the past few days, she hasn't been able to get up. This has been heartbreaking to watch. Now Florence isn't the best of patients, in fact she's up there with the Tsaverich Alexei trying to toboggan downstairs. So helping her get up is a tad risky which is why we've taken to threading a bath towel under her tummy and hauling her in a general upwards direction.

Yesterday she seemed so listless and unwell that we decided.... the Time had come. This is never an easy decision, but her quality of life was clearly non existent, and not likely to improve. The vet was consulted and agreed to come out after morning surgery.

Our other dogs, Homer, Ben and Barney (the latter two are pretty terrified of Florence at the best of times) just sat around her in a circle. They didn't want to go out into the garden and play, they just sat there and looked at each other.

And then.... she woke up and started nibbling at her foot. And nibbling. And chewing. And when she let us get close enough we could see that buried deep in one of the toes was what appeared to be a large thorn.

We cancelled the vet's visit pretty damned quick, I can tell you. Bread poultices were concocted (I'm nothing if not old fashioned), healing salves mixed, the wound was gently probed, the thorn removed, everything cleaned up and bandages. About five minutes later the bandage was off and torn to shreds.

The remainder of the day Florence was still very washed out and tired, but became a model patient, taking all the remedies we gave her. We still had to lift her using a towel and a lot of brute strength, but once she was up she could totter into the yard a few times even though she kept sinking down with sheer exhaustion.

Yesterday was an endless round of cleaning her up, dressing her wound etc. This morning she was much improved, and has been able to get up on her own a few times and amble into the garden.

I've always said I believe that animals tell us when they're ready to go. Florence may be elderly, and frail compared to when she was in her prime, but she certainly isn't ready yet.

Long may she reign!

Floss on her 10th birthday