Sasha came bounding into my life when I met Becca.

A rescue dog that wanted nothing more than to be the centre of attention, who loved to hold your hand with her mouth, loved belly rubs, was at her happiest on the sofa under a blanket and she loved boys the most, even if it was in a ‘sit on your lap so no-one else can have you’ kinda way.

She was a brindle Staffie, she snored, she kicked in her sleep, and she could hear a packet of cheese being opened from about 10 miles (only cheese, any other packet from the fridge didn’t interest her). She ate like we were gonna steal her food back, got so over-excited when her favourite people came to visit that she’d almost vomit simply because she had so much love to give them. She tolerated our other dog, Dave, when he arrived as a pup and let him mouth and pull at her fur, even as he grew bigger than her she’d sit there with a resigned look on her face and despite being the smaller of the two, always gave as good as she got.

She was a happy dog but looks miserable in every photo because she hated getting her photo taken, frequently turning away the second you took your phone out and pointed it at her. She loved sunbathing, so much so that her belly would go darker and darker through the summer, and we’d have to order her inside in case she over heated!

She wasn’t a fan of other dogs, or rather, wasn’t a fan of Dave trying to be friends with other dogs. Most dog walks with the two of them would invariably end up with Sasha having a go at Dave the minute another dog appeared, then Dave having a go at her in return, with the other dog ignored and the baffled owner wondering what on earth these two ‘killer’ dogs were doing to each other.

She was a hooligan, she was cheeky, always under your feet, always moaning and groaning, and right to the end was a single minded force of nature. She ran like she was the fastest dog in the world (she was!), and I will miss her more than I realised. I only knew her for a few years but she was such a good girl (although it helped that I’m a boy so she finally got to live with one!).

She left us on Friday, taken suddenly ill, rushed to the vet where an ultrasound confirmed she had a large tumour near her spleen that had burst. She was 11, it would’ve been cruel to let her suffer (she was in pain for those last couple of hours), and even if she had survived surgery she wouldn’t have any quality of life. It was the right thing, it wasn’t easy, but it was right.

Dave, who is 10 and now almost entirely deaf, is a little quieter but as he tends to sleep most of the day anyway it’s hard to tell. However we will need to provide him the stimulation he will now miss without his best friend there to annoy.

It all happened so fast that it’s still sinking in. I was out with Jack at the weekend, we’d gone to the park and he was busy throwing stones in the water when a dog bounded up. The owners asked if Jack was ok with dogs and without a pause I said “Ohh yes, we have two at home….”.

Except we don’t, not any more.