Archie died today.

He was helped out of this world by a kind vet, after we agreed a couple of days ago that he was no longer enjoying life and was suffering. We couldn’t stand by and let it go on any longer. His condition had deteriorated dramatically since Christmas.

My silence over the last few days has been borne of misery. The tears wouldn’t stop tumbling when I was out of the house – my poor friends at Uni have suffered the brunt of them because I’ve been trying to hold it together in front of Archie – trying not to make his last few days a worry about what’s upsetting me. The smell of misery has been seeping out of my pores. Poor DM has had to find the strength to hide his feelings because he’s been at home more than me.

We spent his last hours sitting quietly with him, stroking him and telling him how much we loved him. We explained about Rainbow Bridge and how he’d got to agree to be friends with Toby and the rest of our gang who are already there. We know from long experience that he'd not be thrilled to share us. He knew that his lovely Mo would be there to make sure he was OK.

He breathed his final breath at about ten past three this afternoon. Later, we wrapped him in a blanket from our bed, put his favourite toy between his front paws and buried him in our field, where he’d frolicked and played with us all. He’s now resting close to my bench, so I can take my coffee out to the field, sit on my bench, admire the view and chat to my beautiful, dignified, independent soul, Archie.

We are bereft.

I have to remind myself that I once felt I’d never be able to love him – he wasn’t Toby. I thought I’d made a huge mistake in those early weeks in July 1999, when I was struggling with grief for Toby and he came along, looking so similar but being so different.

At the beginning of our time together, he loved me much more than I could reciprocate (grief got in my way) – so much so that he wouldn’t let other dogs near me, he only relented with Rosie because she was so tiny. He despised David and did everything in his little doggy power to make his life a misery. He loved me absolutely and without reservation.

Then, over time, he crept into my heart, slowly, stealthily and quietly. He was never in the thick of things, preferring to be on the edge where he could escape if he wanted to. He didn’t want to be the centre of attention; he just wanted to be near to me. I think I was the only person in his life who’d ever been really kind to him. (Not that the lovely folks at Battersea weren’t kind, they simply could only devote a short time to him because of all of their other charges.)

When I was away, he’s sit by the front door waiting for me endlessly. When I came home, he’d quietly sit himself down near to me where he could gaze on me with his adoring eyes. You can’t buy that sort of devotion – you have to earn it through kindness and love.

Years ago, I documented Toby’s life with photos, even when he was really ill at the end. I thought I’d want to remember. I was wrong. What I wanted to remember was the happy times. The times when we were having fun – hence Archie has appeared less and less in recent times on these pages. I didn't want to photograph the ghost dog he became since his odvs. I looked out a really nice photo of him for today, doing what he loved to do most, sit on the top of the wall outside our house and watch the world go by…..and if that world involved me walking towards him so much the better.

This amazing boy, too, has disarmed and later charmed David. His relationship with Archie was difficult at first but over the years, they came to love and trust one-another completely. Today, David shares this desperate grief with me.

We know nothing of the life he had before he came to us – not even how long that life had been. We do know he was terrified of so much, that he was scared to get involved and that he deserved better. On the day I took him out through Battersea’s doors I promised him that he’d be looked after for the rest of his days and I like to think that David and I have kept that promise.

He loved us and would have been with us anywhere but he loved it here in Cornwall too. He loved his newfound freedom, he loved the sea and he loved the amazing walks.

Our home feels empty and our hearts are broken. As for whether I learned to love him.......oh yes and do you know what? In the end it was easy.