It will be 2 years on 21 January but in a way I still do not think I have accepted that Little One is dead, because she should not have died. She was not old, she was not ill, she was not in pain or suffering - she went to sleep cuddled up to me one night and just died, and I think I woke up the second she had gone.

I remember telephoning my Vet - she died at 4.30am - saying Little One is dead, and him saying that there was nothing he could do so he would come round in the morning to collect her on the way to the clinic.

If I had not adopted Pereg 11 months earlier I do not know what I would have done, as Little One had been my sole companion until Pereg came along. Without Pereg life would have been so terribly empty, and I dread losing her because I know that she will be the last dog ever to share my life.

It will be six weeks on saturday that we lost our beloved white German shepherd Keira. It still hurts to think about .her, she was only three and a half and too young to die. We have got another dog Finn as we already had Ozzy who was missing Keira terribly. Finn has helped but he's not Keira. Finn was a rescue dog who had been taken from his owners by the RSPCa as he was being kept locked in a shed. In some strange way it makes Keiras death seem not so pointless as if we hadn't lost her we wouldn't have found Finn.

With each of my dogs I have learned lessons.
With the first it was not to let it go too long.
That was the hardest
With succeeding dogs the lessons were -
that sudden death is the hardest to bear.
that death can be a release and a blessing.
that there is no time limit on grief
but
that what is important is the life they had, not the parting.

Thank you everyone for replying. Some very thought provoking and poignant posts - years of experience all in one thread, I'm sure it will be of help to many.

An excellent sum up in my view.

OMG I'm filling up reading all the replies

I got Tara my very own first dog on the eve of my 18th B'day, she's been dumped out of a car at 3months old and was wondering the streets. I picked her up, put her in my coat and took her home - from that moment onwards she was MY dog, my true soul mate with four paws, we went everywhere together

She lived until she was 18yrs old, I knew it was time - I phoned the vets and cried my way through the conversation which went something like . .
'I want to book Tara in please'
'Yeah, no problem, could you tell me what's wrong with her?'
Me - 'I want you to tell me if I'm being cruel keeping her alive' The lady on reception was brilliant booked me in the next day. I sobbed all the way there in the car, the vet said she's had a stroke, we could keep her alive a bit longer on tablets but at her age . . . .
I said 'No, her time has come' so she was pts in my arms I cried all the way to my mums, dad dug a hole and she's buried in their garden.

I know it sounds horrible but I came to terms with her passing quite quickly, I still missed her like mad but I think because I knew for a couple of weeks before hand that it was coming and I know she had the best life a dog could wish for

I still had Simba at home who was a 2yrs old akita x gsd and full of it! He kept me busy but he ws distraught, Tara had been with him since he was 8 weeks old so I re-homed Poppy as his buddy A month after Tara's passing I went away and took Poppy with me but couldn't take him as where I was going they had 2 male dogs and Simba was quite dominant of other males so I left him with my then good friend, Simba escaped and got run over the day before I came home. I was completley devastated, absolutley knocked for six, felt sooooo guilty and even worse I wasn't there at the end when he was in pain and needed me I blame myself for leaving him too.
I still cry when I think of him 3 years later. I have his ashes here and I say goodnight to him every night I just can't bring myself to scatter them at the moment. For about a month afterwards I swear I could still hear him flumping down on the floor to sleep at night (he never did anything delicatley!!)
I think it's worse for me about Simba as he was so young and full of life and mischief and it ended all too soon for him and me plus the shock of being told while I was 500 miles away and I couldn't do anything, whereas with Tara she was old and her time had come, doesn't mean I loved her any less but she'd lived a full life and unfortunatley if you choose to have dogs in your life you can expect to out live them and just do the best you can for them in the time you have

I'd rather not go through either experience again however I know I will at least 3 times hopefully the old and pts one though as the pleasure I get from them during their lifetimes is to me worth the pain when they pass

When I can see the eyes fading of life. By that I mean all my dogs have always shown happy faces, bright eyes, and love of life. Once the body says OK Im coming but the eyes show different I then know.

Meg reached a grand old age of 23, once she started to wet herself her eyes told me that she felt uncomfortable and distressed with it all.
Reah having had a stroke on the Friday night, showed in her eyes that she just couldn't get up, although her body tried, it tried only for me because I asked, in her eyes there was ''I am going mom please help me''

Guilt always shadows any of those animals we loved and lost, we beat ourselves up with ''I wish/could I of/ should I have/ but once gotten passed all that,we need to know that, anyone that has loved an animal should realize that the biggest gift of love was to let them go as it is the last kind thing we can do to stop their suffering.

I have found talking about them, never being afraid to shed tears in front of family and friends has help me come to terms with my loss. I am a real believer that they came for a purpose and when they leave they are still with me in spirit

I went to school with my granny as usual and looked for our family collie as soon as I got back. I was about 6 she was 18 and she had somehow got upstairs and fallen and had to be put to sleep. I just accepted that there was nothing else could have been done. She was my nanny and taught me about the breed at its best. Fifty years later I still well up.

I took in a 2 yr old rescue case collie off the street, she was fear aggressive towards adults. It meant altering my life to accommodate her needs until she was cured. She was a great dog and more than worth the effort. We had her 12 years and there was a big hole after we had to make the decision at the vets. I kept all the photos but couldn't bear to put one where I could see it until I got another dog. The house was so quiet and felt empty for a while. I had no routine any more.

Dogs can teach us about living life to the full and enjoy life's little pleasures and about loving without conditions being attached. I didn't feel bad about having her PTS because it was the only option to prevent her from inevitable suffering to come. It was an act of love that I owed her. I have done the right thing when it mattered most.

I was ok if someone's dog came to me for a fuss but two years later if anyone's collie came up to me I was still upset.

I have been able to talk about my lost dogs when I felt like it but I have only felt able to have my dog photos on the wall after I got another dog.

Our 10 week old little princess wouldn't be here if I had my old dogs so loss has, when the time was right, turned into this new opportunity to live it all again like it's the first time, which I'm grateful for.

Over the years I have experienced the loss of many dogs, family pets/those I have looked after in kennels/ my own dogs.

For a loving owner the loss of a pet is always a very painful experience, it is a bereavement a ‘state of sorrow over the death or departure of a loved one’ .

Bereavement whether for another human or a much loved pet follows similar recognised stages of grieving , shock, guilt, anger and acceptance.

First comes the shock, for me this translates as cold fear and the realisation that my loved one is no longer in the world and I won’t ever see them again,
...next guilt, did I do all I could to help them, could I have done more,
.. then anger, why have they left me alone,
.. finally acceptance, they are gone, I can do nothing to change what has happened, I must learn to live with my new situation.

We all deal with grief in our own way. I always want to hide in a dark place away from everyone but this isn’t always possible. Instead I wander the house hugging a cushion and sobbing in an effort to ease the dull ache inside.

With the passing days comes an easing of the pain until one day you find yourself smiling again.

I will never forget the dogs I have known and lost, each one unique and special. My life would have been the poorer without them.

When Rocky died it was one of the worst moments of my life. I can't say it was the worst day, because for the bulk of it he was still here, and we spent most of it together on the bed ...and I cherished every minute, even if it was sad and tearful, knowing what was to come.

I cried non-stop for four or five days, from the moment I got up to the moment I fell asleep, and then I think my eyes dried out only crying when physically possible. The nights have been the worst, as you get a moment to yourself and think. I miss kissing his velvety soft ears good night, and giving him a hug before going to sleep .

After the initial shock, I spent the rest of the first 2 weeks almost frantically looking for another 'little Rocky', the hole was just too big and I just wanted him back at all costs - even a dog half as much like him would have been better than nothing, than not having him at all. I even looked at cloning - but the hair I got the nurse to clip wasn't enough (they need live skin cells - although I doubt we could afford the 100k bill!) I think if Presa's weren't on the exclusion list for so many insurance companies I probably would have gone out and got a puppy in a flash. It would have felt like an extension to Rocky (as they'd undoubtedly share breed traits) and it would have felt almost like it was his baby. I even searched for breeds that were like Presa's but maybe a little smaller, and even looked at every single dog on every single dog rescue site - but of course there's never another dog quite like the one you've lost, or even close enough. It's not just the looks, or size, or breed, but it's the personality and all the little things - and so it began to sink in, that he's gone, and that I'll never find another like him. Which is a sad, sombre realisation.

Guilt - I keep thinking I let him down with his diet (the one he was on for most of his life). Even though he was on an all natural food (Pascoes), that didn't contain artificial colours, preservatives of flavours - but it did have grains. In fairness tho, I did try all the top brands when we got him and the Pascoes was the only food that didn't give him runny pooes, which probably explains why I didn't want to rock the boat and experiment with other foods later... plus I only really learned about the negative effects of grains until a couple of years ago - when I started to look into it for my own health. But still, you can't help feeling guilty, no matter how hard you tried or thoughtful you might have been - it just doesn't seem 'enough'.

I also think I worried too much. About his joints (he had a steel plate put in his knee when he was one and a half and the vet told us to be careful as the others were prone to go) and about his size/dominance/breed-type - so both those had an impact on where we walked (we avoided 'parks') and where he was allowed in the house (the top floor/bedrooms were out of bounds - being a 3 storey house) and not being able to do things like biking or running (tried it once but he started to limp the next day), and I was very cautious with him around other dogs - being a bull breed, had he got into a fight (that another untrained dog might have started) the finger of blame would have almost certainly gone on him, even if it wasn't his fault. He was actually brilliant with dogs, only reciprocating if they started on him first.

Anyway, the point I am trying to make is that feeling guilt, is (or is meant to be, according to that Dog's Trust advice sheet) natural. And while we can't turn back the clock and do things differently, we can bear it in mind if we ever get another.

But would I get another dog? Probably not, least not for a long time - perhaps if I'm ever a millionaire (which is unlikely!) where I can afford organic (fresh) food for the dog, have a bungalow without stairs and plenty of land/a forest (where we don't have to worry about ill-behaved/un trained dogs and idiot owners!) then maybe. Besides that, what if I don't love the other dog? What if it doesn't love me? When I think about it, I actually don't want another dog - I just want Rocky, or another Rocky. He was perfect in almost every way. Sure he was incredibly strong (perhaps a bit too much!) and intolerant of dogs trying to dominate him - but his personality, the way he was the things he did, how much he loved me, followed me around everywhere, was just perfect. And I miss him so much. I'm sure most people would feel the same about their dogs too, they mean so much to us, they capture our hearts, don't they.

Rocky's ashes were on my cupboard to begin with, looking down on me (and away from naughty Cheetah!) but I was just feeling terribly sad one night and couldn't sleep, so moved his ashes onto the headboard... and felt much better and fell fast asleep. I can just imagine people thinking I'm a loon - but I don't care, his favourite place in the whole world was on my bed - and that's where he is now and I think always will be.

Cheetah has been helping a lot, she's keeping his space warm on the bed and has started following me around everywhere (like she used to). She didn't come up here much when Rocky was around (I think he used to get jealous of her and purposely step on her, lol. (omg I lol'd!)) But I'm grateful she's there as I'm giving her lots of hugs when I miss Rocky.

I think my experience seems to echo many of yours. You go through different stages; devastation, numbness, sadness, and then later fondness - by remembering all the good times. I'm not quite there yet myself, but I'm sure I'll get there in the end.