I just found out that our dog doesn’t want to get up anymore. He is already quite old (about 16 years) but I hope that he’ll manage to pull through so that I’ll see him again in November.

I still remember when we got him. How I trusted him from the beginning. How he was “my” dog at the beginning, until I went to England. How he would sleep in my room. How any line between man and animal was washed away in a playful fight.

Zottel is a great dog. He broke some things. He stole a lot of food from tables. He sometimes farted horribly. He sometimes barked a lot when there were visitors. He hardly ever followed orders. But he never hurt anybody.  He enjoyed being patted. He was always friendly and playful. He gave a lot of comfort to my mom. Despite everything, he always gave so much joy to the people around him. He was loved, he is loved. And I think he knows this as he lies on a blanket under a linden tree in our garden.