26/08/2025
Our Sweet Ally Has Grown Her Wings 💔
Dear friends, family, and our incredible community,
Thank you — from the bottom of our hearts — for the love, compassion, and messages you’ve shared with us recently. Losing Ernie was shattering. And now, saying goodbye to our sweet Ally so soon after… it’s almost too much to bear. Our hearts are broken in two.
Ally was pure light in a little body. From the very beginning, she was gentle, cheeky, and impossibly loving. She carried herself with quiet wisdom and kindness — dogs adored her, people melted around her, and she somehow made everything feel softer just by being there.
She lived a full and generous life. Over the years, she welcomed two Bernese Mountain Dogs, a German Shepherd, two cats, two kids, and countless foster dogs with patience and grace. She had this unshakeable calm about her — like she knew her role was to bring steadiness and warmth, and she did it beautifully.
She was diagnosed with epilepsy at just eight weeks old, and somehow defied the odds, living a long and love-filled life. She managed pancreatitis and a rare condition that required her vocal cords to be tied — but none of it dimmed her light. She was tiny, but she was tough. Resilient. Brave.
In her younger days, she adored the beach. I can still see her standing there, nose lifted high, eyes closed, her soft ears fluttering in the wind as if the breeze was telling her secrets only she could understand. She’d do the same on walks — just stop mid-step to breathe in the air, like she was reminding us to slow down and feel it all.
Her cuddles were medicine. Her tiny body curled against mine, her gentle snore so rhythmic and comforting that it would rock me to sleep. I will miss that sound more than I can say.
She had such a cat-like grace — always finding her way onto a lap, into a nook, or resting somewhere close. I often joked she was my cat-dog. She was never needy — just quietly, deeply connected.
Since we lost Ernie back in June, Ally’s light had started to flicker. Her dementia crept in, and the loneliness set heavy in her bones. She missed him deeply — her brother, her best friend, her constant companion.
And while every part of me wanted her to stay forever, my heart knew she was tired. Yes, there were still good days… but the bad ones had become harder, more confusing, and quietly cruel. I didn’t want her to have one more of those.
So we gave her one last day filled with love. We held her close. We whispered all the thank-yous we could. And we let her go — with gentleness, dignity, and all the love in the world.
Now, she runs free — her ears catching the breeze again, her paws flying beneath her. And she won’t be alone. Bert, Ernie, Turtle, Jasper, Angel — and all the beloved souls she knew and loved — will be waiting with wagging tails and hearts wide open.
The silence she leaves behind is deafening. We already ache for her cuddles, her snore, the pitter-patter of her feet in the hallway… and that silly little tune we always sang when she got excited:
“dit da di daaahhh!”
Run free, Ally girl. Do all the “dit da di daaahhhs” your beautiful heart desires. We’ll be listening for you in the wind.
xx Jazz
