
Dad had to put my dog down last night.
Ombre was our family Staffie that we've had since he was a pup in 1997. He lived with us as a family, then with my mum when my folks divorced, then with me at varsity, and then with my Dad from there on out.
He was a very very special dog. He almost made it to 13 years old.
A proper Staffie by any nature. Preferred humans over other dogs, thrived when he got attention, and looked classically like Jock of the Bushveld.
In fact, there was a time when he was Jock. My dad lived in the Karroo for a few years, and took this shot of him running through the hinterland.

Smiling. He was always smiling.
He is also the only Staffie I knew who loved water. Staffies aren't water dogs. Ombre though would throw himself with reckless abandon into rivers, dongas and the sea.
Loved jawlocking himself around objects. Like his tyre.

When dad moved to Cape Town, he spent the latter half of his life 'body surfing' - I kid you not - on Fish Hoek beach, jumping through waves and plucking kelp off the ocean floor to bring back to Dad as a present.

I'm sitting in the office now, all tanned and prawned up from Portugal, with a very very heavy heart. Wondering if I should take a stroll around the building away from my desk before I burst into tears in front of everyone.

He was such a special dog. Who was around for my mother, father and myself all during horrible testing times.
It's best he was put asleep, he was in pain.
I am heartbroken.
Rest in peace special baby.
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