Dexter

I remember the day we brought Dexter home like it was yesterday. He was this bundle of energy with ears far too big for his head, tripping over his own paws as he explored every corner of the house. We'd gone to see the litter not really knowing what to expect, but the moment he bounded over and looked up at us, that was it. Decision made. He chose us as much as we chose him.

The drive home was amazing – he sat still all the way, then crashed out asleep on my wife's lap for the last ten minutes. Those first few days were a blur of accidents on the carpet, and him following us everywhere like a shadow. Wouldn't have changed a single moment of it.

Dexter was a proper springer – absolutely mental for tennis balls. You couldn't say the word "ball" without him losing his mind, spinning in circles, ready to go. We started spelling it out, B-A-L-L, but he figured that out within a week. Too clever for his own good.

His favourite thing was water. The second his paws hit the park he was off looking for puddles and lakes, nose to the ground, tail going like a helicopter. He'd disappear into the undergrowth and come back covered in mud, looking absolutely delighted with himself. We are sure he did this so he could get a bath when he got home –you didn't even have time to run the bath before he had jumped in.

Evenings were his time. He'd wait until we sat down, then immediately claim the spot next to us on the sofa. Head on one of our laps, one paw always touching us like he was checking we was still there. Thirteen years of that. Still catch myself looking at that empty spot sometimes.

Dexter taught us to slow down. We'd be stressed about work, deadlines, all the usual rubbish, and he'd just appear with his tail wagging. Didn't matter what was going on – he needed his walk, and honestly, so did we. Half an hour round the park with him and whatever was bothering us didn't seem so important anymore. He had a way of putting things into perspective without saying a word.

He showed us what loyalty really looks like. Thirteen years, and he never once let us down. Bad days, good days, he was just there. No judgement, no conditions, just pure unwavering presence. That's rare. We are better people because of him – more patient, more grounded, more aware that the small moments are actually the big ones. Pawmorial exists because of him. Every memorial we help create, every family we help through their grief, that's his legacy carrying on.