This one is going to be a bit rambling, but bear with me, there’s a point in here somewhere.

It’s just been the anniversary of 9/11, twenty five years have gone, but some of the brave and awful and inspiring stories still have massive power.

Todd Beamer was on a call with an emergency operator from Flight 93 – these are the last words spoken.

‘Lisa: I’ll tell them. I promise, Todd.(Lisa patches in the FBI.)

Agent: Todd, your plane is on a course for Washington. Best guess is the White House or the Capitol.

Todd: I understand. I’ll be back.

Todd: Everyone knows this isn’t a normal hijacking. We have decided we will not be pawns in their plot.

Lisa: What are you going to do?

Todd: Four of us are going to rush the one with the bomb. Then the cockpit. A stewardess is getting boiling water. We’ll take them out.

Todd: Would you pray with me?They pray the Lord’s Prayer. Then: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.

Todd: God help me. Jesus help me.Are you guys ready? Let’s Roll.’

Let’s Roll – and that was it.

We all wonder how we’d face death or the prospect of death, will we be brave and resolute, defiant and loud, will we cry, will we do things that are beyond bravery?

Unless you’ve been there, you can only hope that you carry yourself well.

I was once on a flight from Edinburgh to Stansted that was THE most scary flight I’ve been on, ever.

I was sat at the front and the plane was making moves that it really shouldn’t, we never found out what the issue was, but it was mechanical and pretty grim.

People were screaming and shouting behind me and the two stewardesses were quietly crying.

Bad huh.

This was over twenty years ago but I still remember the tracks that the tears were making in their makeup and how young they were.

I thought about it.

Were we going to die?

Maybe.

Could I do anything?

No.

Had it been a good life until then?

Yes.

So I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

The plane sorted itself a few minutes later and we landed safely with no issues.

I’ve had a few heart resets since, around 18 years ago and the first is the one where you have to accept that when they shock your heart to stop it, it may not restart.

No point being too scared, it’s outside your control and you just have to trust.

I didn’t die. Obvs.

Nor did I when they did it four more times until my issues were fixed.

I’d stopped worrying altogether by then.

Acceptance became a form of contempt, I actually made an afternoon appointment after the last reset.

That doesn’t mean that I’m brave, maybe just realistic or fatalistic. I don’t know.

Anyway, life went on, things changed, I went to a host of foreign places, drank and debauched myself stupid, danced with a god and dared the other gods to kill me during a monsoon in Thailand.

I was and remain committed to enjoying as much of life as I can, until it comes to a probably undignified stop.

But as much as I’ve mentioned Death, it’s Life that’s the thing that we should treasure, every minute, even the shit ones.

In April 2019, I began a new job and moved house on the same day, I was now renting a place with secure gates, a large garden and views across fields, all of which my landlord and next door neighbour owned.

So in August 2019 I did the thing that changed my life forever.

I went to meet Milo at Warrington Animal Welfare and decided that he was mine.

And so it was.

He presided over most aspects of my life, I now had to plan ahead, for he could never go back in a cage again and he had a few issues to deal with.

He’d been abused by a previous owner, I tracked him down but decided that no good could come from doing anything.

And so Milo wove himself into the fabric of my life, we went everywhere together, relationships came and went; particularly when it was clear that I meant it when I said that he was my top priority.

We went through COVID together and together, we ignored every fucking rule that there was.

I bought a car during that period just because I could and we drove hundreds of miles to see people or just because. Beaches and mountains, forests and little towns.

We lived

He had a couple of knee operations and developed a healthy hatred and fear of the vets which manifested itself on June 4th 2021 ( more on that later).

The stability that he’d made me embrace meant that I capitalised a fair amount of my pension and I bought the house and land that we live in today.

We have astonishing views, peace and quiet and a life that I’d never dreamed of as a child.

I’m sat here as a type this, I have beer and music, Milo’s asleep somewhere and Cairo has just managed to break into next door again, occasioning a hasty fence repair.

I retired for a while and now I’m at a crossroads as to whether to carry on working or go back to only doing things for me.

The money’s a nice little bonus and we’ll have a new log burner in a couple of days followed by flooring.

They’re only things though, what I treasure is the living elements of my life, the doglets, my friends and some of my work colleagues.

But nothing lasts forever and not all change is good.

My little warrior started to have seizures a month or so ago.

He doesn’t seem to know what’s happened afterwards so it’s scarier for me.

I got him to the vet for blood tests – he hates the vet.

It was inconclusive, they wanted a test that can only be done at Nantwich.

He HATES the Nantwich vet.

So I sedated him enough that he had to be carried in while in his little bed.

And that test was inconclusive.

My vet suggested a liver scan and we booked it.

But…..

I watched him sleep the night before and decided that I wasn’t going to take him somewhere to be scared, knocked out and tested – and if he lived, wake up in a fucking cage and be scared and alone.

So I emailed them to say no.

And a strange thing happened.

A minute after I pressed send, the specialist vet called me to essentially talk me out of it.

A battery of tests and physical samples of the liver and spleen.

He was actually happy that I’d already decided against, even though it was money on the hoof.

And we talked.

I told him that Milo had been kicked by Charlie the pony and I thought he’d died.

I bundled him into the car and took him to the vet, who met me, masked up against COVID in the car park.

Milo was awake and scared by then and then the vet said….

‘I’ll take him from here.’

I made it clear that if the last I saw of Milo, it would be me putting him on the table and that there was literally nothing that would stop me.

The vet saw reason.

Anyway.

Turns out that we’re sort of famous.

The date was 4th June 2021.

He had a cracked rib.

I told the vet that I’d pick him up.

They said that he’d stay overnight.

I said that they’d beg me to take him home by the end of the day and so it was that at two minutes past six that they rang me, saying please come and get him.

He wouldn’t let them near his cage.

I was glad that I’d talked to the specialist, it made things clearer.

And so I decided for both of us

No more tests.

Ask for anti-seizure meds.

See where we go.

And we’re nearly at the point that I said I was making

One more thing.

I let people know that he isn’t ok and they’ve been wonderful, I’ve been real-life messaging with somebody whose dog is almost at that point and they’ll never know how much our chats have helped me.

Milo’s meds may possibly be working, he’s had two fits in eight days rather than a couple a day sometimes, but the decision to give him the best I can rather than letting fear take over has ensured that every day is a new and wonderful thing.

This is from Tecumseh, it’s something that I’d like to aspire to, we’ll see.

‘So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart.

Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours.

Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life.

Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people.

Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.

When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death… Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.’

As for Milo, whenever it comes, we’ll know together and I’ll sit with him looking at our land and our views and I’ll sing to him as he goes.

Probably ‘Santa Fe’ by Jon Bon Jovi.

He likes that one, I used to sing it to him on car journeys.

‘They say that no man is an island
And good things come to those who wait
But the things I hear are there just to remind me
Every dog will have his day

The spirits, they intoxicate me
I watched them infiltrate my soul
They try to say it’s too late for me
Tell my guns I’m coming home

I swear I’m gonna live forever
Tell my maker he can wait
I’m riding somewhere south of Heaven
I’m heading back to Santa Fe
It’s judgement day in Santa Fe

Once I was promised absolution
There’s only one solution for my sins
You’ve gotta face your ghosts, and know with no illusions
That only one of you is going home again

Not today though. Today is a good day.