The last secret diary entry of Maximilian Thorn

I was sorting out the lovely Maxie's personal effects and in his little private box, among the pictures of Ellie and Nina, the old sock that smelt of Gerry, the pair of my knickers (I wondered where they had gone), and the half-eaten chews he was hiding from Satchmo, I found his last diary entry, written just the evening before he died. Monday 17 December 2012 Woke up this morning and thought ‘I love my Mum’ – and suddenly realised she’d crept in without me noticing. I do wish the old girl wouldn’t creep up on me like that – gives me a helluva start. Anyway, as soon as it was light she took us all for our morning constitutional in the field, which was great. She’s chickened out a few times l

My dearest Maxie - you'll never be forgotten

So, just a few days after that last diary entry, my beloved Maxie died; on 18 December, aged 15 years, 4 months and 12 days. A wonderful age for a dobermann, but still a shock when it happened and the house seems very quiet and empty without him. I found myself stroking the air where he would have been as the other two ate their breakfast this morning. Nina and Satchmo are very subdued. Nina has quietly made it clear to Satchmo that she has taken Max's place as top dog and he seems happy to accept that. They both slept in my room last night, but will be back to normal tonight. Can't seem to get going at all today. Really must take them for a walk...

Secret Diary of Maximilian Thorn aged 15 1/3

Woke up this morning and thought ‘I love my Mum’. I also thought that, although I’ve been updating you quarterly in the past, life moves on and these days I feel it rushing past me at an ever-increasing rate (I’m quite a philosopher, you know, in my spare time), so I’m going to do my diary more often now. For months I’ve been slithering about in the mud on our walks, so I was really chuffed when the weather turned really cold a week ago and the track froze. Much easier underfoot, I thought, and sure enough, it was, but unfortunately the old soldiers at the back drag a bit and I kept getting home with skinned toes. I have to say it appears to bother Mum more than it does me. She dips my toes

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