Thanks everyone.

Julie, I am so sorry you are just starting out on this journey too. I will come back and read your posts, I promise, and I will let you know of our experiences where they relate as we go and lend any support I can. This forum is a wonderful community and just the thought that there are people out there that have gone through the same and can empathise with you and understand, even if you never meet them or speak to them, is fantastic. It has helped me so much and I am sure it will hep you to. That's not to say it will be easy, but having somewhere to come and unload whatever you need to, even by way of a keyboard on the internet, helps so much.

At the moment though, please forgive me for not being able to look up you posts just yet. I have spent the last half hour sat on his outside bed sobbing like a child.

I know we did what we could for him and I know it was his time to go, I am at peace with all the decisions we made together but the sense of absolute loss is like nothing I have ever felt before.

It's the third night without him now and today has felt like some sort of weird dream all day, like none of it is real and any second I'll wake up and he'll be there at the end of the bed.

I have been sleeping on and off and must have been sound this morning when my alarm woke me, I was still half asleep when the alarm went off and woke with this awful feeling of dread but couldn't put my finger on it. It was a few seconds before I woke properly and remembered he'd gone, it was like someone kicking me in the stomach.

I have been reading up on grief for a pet, it seems what we are going through is "normal", and as I say, I knew it would be hard when he went, but it is excruciatingly so.

I also know we'll get through it, and who knows, maybe even one day love another. For the moment I know the healthy thing to do is continue to let the grieving process unfold however it needs to and to take each day at a time.

Just sitting here typing this helps immeasurably and I fully intend to return and lend an ear to anyone that needs it in the months and years to come.

Thank you all again.

Tony.

Hi, thanks for thinking of us. We're slowly getting there, it has been an awful few weeks to be honest but we are gradually coming to terms with him not being here. I will come back and do a proper post soon. Thanks x

Hi guys, just checking in.

Still taking it day by day. Not as many tears now, and usually happy ones when remembering his quirks and talking to friends that he grew up with about him.

The first 3 weeks was tears all day, every day pretty much and such a sense of hopeless sadness.

The, I started to feel a little more normal, even dare I say happy at times? Weirdly though, my sub-conscious would kick in almost as if to say how dare you feel normal and I'd come crashing back down again.

Seems I turned a corner just over a week ago and went a few days with no tears, he is still on my mind 24/7 though.

This week has gone back the other way to a degree, more tears and choking up when I talk about him but they feel different, sure, the sense of loss is still just terrible but the tears seem to be more about thoughts of happy days and the relief (for him) that he is no longer battling.

Jeez, I'm welling up again now!

To top it off, my good friend whom I have not seen since I emigrated from the UK to Australia 10 years ago, lost his beloved Pointer yesterday. Odin was the reason we got a dog, he was the only dog that I was never allergic to and once we settled in Australia we began researching Pointer breeders, quickly realizing that we would not be able to meet the exercise needs of a Pointer. That led to searching for dogs with similar coats, which led us to trials with Great Dane breeders and eventually to Huck. So, for that I thank you Odin and may you rest in peace and find your big Australian brother on the other side somewhere.

So, onward and upward. Can you believe we were actually looking through the local shelters dog list the last couple of days? I swore I could not go through this again and had decided that I would never be able to have another dog. Somehow though, it just doesn't seem right not to share your life with these wonderful animals. The shelter list searching has lead us to the local Great Dane rescue society, which in turn has thrown up an interesting dilemma. I had been watching the Great Dane register for some time, none of the dogs on there spoke to me (as much as they can from a few photo's), but one guy turned up yesterday that I can't stop thinking about. Emma and I spoke last night, she is not sure she is ready, which I completely stand behind - I'm not sure I am either to be honest, it is difficult to objectively analyze whether I am ready, lonely, sad, desperate or a mixture of all so a decision to take on another dog so soon, especially another Dane (which I never thought I could do after Huck), is one that cannot be taken lightly.

Anyway, I may make "official" contact with the society later today and see where we go from there. Who knows.

What we did discuss in depth last night was what would we do differently this time? (Should there be a "this time" that is). A few things, no more puppies. As much as we loved Huck as a puppy, it was tough. We thought about a re-home back then too but the selfish side of me wanted a puppy as I'd never had a dog before. Knowing now how many badly treated animals there are out that end up in shelters (or worse) then it would be remiss of me to actively encourage the birth of another when there are so many beautiful dogs in need of loving homes.

Secondly, should we have another dog that has the same/similar issues and prognosis we would not amputate and IV chemo. Now, that's not to say we regret or would have changed anything we did for Huck. Quite the contrary, there is no way we could have not done anything but everything we could for him, but watching him those ten month battle for what, in the grand scheme of things, was not an awful lot more quality time when you subtract the chemo, the operations, the pneumonia etc and seeing how dogs live for the day, I don't think I would do that again to another dog. As hard as it would be for us, I do feel that in someways Hick would have been better to be let go when he was diagnosed. As I say, in no way to we regret any of the decisions we made for him but they aren't necessarily ones we'd make again given the same prognosis.

Added to that, and this is easier to say than perhaps it would actually be to implement, but should we take on a re-homed dog that's had a tough life prior then in some ways the decision not to prolong life when faced with terminal prognoses may be somewhat easier knowing that the second chance at having a great home you already gave them mitigates it?

Anyway, perhaps I am over thinking things now and getting too deep, who knows what decisions we'd make if, and when, the time ever comes again.

Right, better get on and get some work done I suppose, although I can't very well sign off without a photo now can I? How about something different this time? Here is the beautiful Huckleberry at about 2 or 3 weeks old, snuggling into his mum's chops (Diddy was a beautiful girl and is where Huck got his good looks and amazing personality from).

Thanks for listening.

Tony.