I still find it harder to accept Gracie’s loss, not because I loved Danny any less but because she was that much younger than him. Danny was only a couple of months short of 14 – a good age by any greyhound’s standards. Not that that makes it any easier, but he wasn’t a well boy. His lungs were shot – fluid was building up around them – and he found it difficult to breathe at times. His legs were knackered as well, so much so he would fall over on occasion. But he still insisted on coming out for a walk every day and would let me know in no uncertain terms if I was late with his dinner! I knew it was only a matter of time with him.

But I’d though that Gracie had a couple of years left – she wasn’t even 12 yet. She had gotten over a stump pyometra as well as an infection in her bad foot but I think the loss of Danny finished her. She was always very close to the old man – I think she derived a great deal of peace from him, what with her being such a stress-head for most of her life. I guess she just didn’t want to be without him and she gave up.