On the 23rd November, we’ve had to say goodbye to our beloved Lurcher, Lord Nelson. He was 9 years old, our dog and our best friend, you were always the good boy. 04 April 2012 – 23 November 2020.



I remember the first time we saw him at the rescue place. Get a small dog she said. We end up with a timid 5 stone lurcher who could climb a 6 foot fence. What an amazingly funny and handsome dog he was. People stopped us in the street to say how handsome he was. Lord Nelson will leave his mark, and all round the house, and I don’t mean just the scratched furniture or the million chews and dog toys through the house and garden we’ll find. It’s amazing how interwoven life becomes, how much they become family and how much love there us. We wouldn’t want it any other way. He made our hearts melt.


I love you, you were my boy, I was always telling you that, I doted on you. I think anybody who knows me would say that. Apparently I always talked about you. Truth is I just loved being in your presence, talking to you, I always said that you were the Dogtor, a canine doctor, the best mental health available, someone I could talk to and found that you were a great listener. I treated you better than anything, that’s because you did the same for me. There’s nothing better than coming home and seeing your dog. My love for you cannot be overstated and could never have imagined the day without you. You’ve given us so many memories and made us smile every single day. Every. Single. Day.

Your plays growls, playing tug, not letting go of the ball for fetch, the way you came prancing in with a toy, the way you always greeted us happily at the door. I remember nipping out through our wedding to come back and see you, your stinky pee, stinky breath, stinky car, being obsessed with velour material, stealing shoes, bra’s, food, coming in and drinking the bath water while we were in it, your break neck speed of a dash in the garden, your grumpy tired growls when you had to move, scaring off an intruder in the garden, your ferocious barks at the door, licking the plate, leaning in, your funny sit, your smile. The amount of times you stole the cord from my dressing gown, the amount of times you were force fed chews, your drooling, tearing up the garden, shredding paper and cardboard, your smell, your favourite blankets, sniffing the air and refusing to move, lying on our bed, your den under the bed, your favourite blanket, BBQ sausage, your sandpaper paws, cuddles on shoulders, your farts when you stretched, that little mark on your nose and the the way you got stupidly excited, the way you went nuts. Long furlough walks, multiple midnight pee breaks, I hated dropping you off at kennels and loved picking you back up and in the between time, constantly checking up on you. Wrestling you into your harness, your grey bits, your muscles, nose marks on the windows, paw marks on the door handles, muddy carpets, whippy tale. Your love.

You were an amazingly funny dog, even the times you played football with hedgehog and would come in worse off with blood foaming at your mouth and then spraying it inside the house, despite the fact the estate agent was visiting the next day when it was going on sale. Or when you cut your tail and sprayed blood everywhere when you wagged your tail. 

Most of all, I would like to thank you for the time we had together. While our eyes are teary now (you never liked to see us upset) we know that in the fullness of time this will change and we’ll welcome another, thanks to your love, your legacy x.




Nick Cook. Amateur astronomer, space, history, nerd, extreme dog walker, cat slave, severe tinnitus sufferer. 13.7 billion years in the making - not that much better for it.

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