Just before Christmas 2025, I lost a dear friend. A friend who greatly embodied the infinitely noble virtues of kindness, love, compassion and loyalty. A friend who always brightened my day and who lived each day to the full. And the beautifully heartbreaking twist? My friend was a dog. A black Labrador called Miffy. A dog who never got any awards on earth, but definitely deserved multitudes of them.

Miffy entered my life when my sister and her family chose her to be a part of their family (and thus my life, as I live close by) in 2011. It seemed she was always meant to be a treasured member of my sister’s family (and my life and our extended family).

Miffy, from early on, you were playing joyfully with my young nephew and niece, walking them to school alongside my sister, and accompanying them in the car for high school drop offs.

Everybody and every dog you met around the suburbs loved you Miffy. How could they not? You didn’t have a bad bone in your body. Your unconditional love for all those you knew and came across on your walks around town and in your beloved local park (it was one of your fervently happy places) where I often caught up with you, always shone through and bathed all around you in a gentle warmth and peace.

My sister always bought you tasty doggie biscuits (hand-made by a local woman) at the cafe near the park. It was your daily delighted ritual to be fed one of these biscuits and then gleefully frolic around the park with other dogs. Every day making new friends (humans and dogs) who loved meeting you and getting to know you. 

I particularly remember the woman in army uniform who asked us if she could take your photo at the park cafe one morning. Of course we happily obliged, and so did you. Who could blame her for wanting to photograph you? You were not only beautiful on the inside Miffy, you were divinely beautiful to look at.

You were there for your family in sad times (for example comforting us after we lost Dad) and many happy times (Christmas Day was always special each year when you were there. Remember that Christmas when you bolted from my brother’s house, down the street, when we began pulling bonbons? Thankfully we found you. You gave us quite a fright that day!)

I recall being at Mum’s one day and being sad and you lovingly came and sat by me (you were so intuitive) and bringing me comfort and peace.

You lived life to the full and encouraged those around you to do likewise. You flew from Brisbane to Tasmania (both in Australia) six times, and never needed a sedative! You were very brave to do that. You also had so many beach holidays (Labradors love the ocean) that I have lost count of the number. I shared a number of those beach holidays on North Stradbroke Island with you. I will always remember you joyfully running on the beach and stoically wading into the turquoise sea. I am so glad that I got to spend a final beach holiday with you on North Stradbroke Island just six months before you passed away. You always made already sublime beach holidays become even more exquisite. Simply by being there. Your presence radiated peace and joy and it seemed that nothing bad could ever happen when you were there.

You had two “weddings” to other dogs. What a beautiful bride you were!

I spent many days at your house, Miffy, sitting with you when no one else was home (you suffered separation anxiety). I played you classical music, which you loved (particularly Vivaldi’s Four Seasons) and the local radio station, which you enjoyed. 

I also looked after you at your place when your family went away. We became even more attached to each other at these times. Sometimes you would gaze lovingly into my eyes for long periods of time. You were always giving out love to others Miffy. I know you realised also how very much you were loved by others.

Saying good-bye to you on your last day on earth was very hard and crushing. If only you could have lived forever. Princess Catherine’s (married to Prince William) brother, James Middleton, is a great dog lover and has written an excellent book on his adored dog, Ella, called “Meet Ella: The Dog Who Saved My Life”. James has also written a great blog on grieving a dog called “Coping With the Loss of a Dog”. He writes in this blog so poignantly that “…if love alone could have kept your dog here, they would have lived forever”.

Miffy, I will forever be grateful to you for giving me your friendship (that never wavered), consistently unconditional love, loyalty, wisdom, joyfulness, playfulness (thank you for all those times you brought me your animal toys in your mouth, for me to play with you), your non-judgemental nature and your love for life.

You taught me and gave me so much. I will try to honour you by always trying to live in the present, trying not to worry about tomorrow, finding the joy in life everyday and attempting to have unconditional love for all and not to judge anyone. These were all traits you exemplified Miffy. 

What made you even more special was that you never realised how truly special you were Miffy. I know that everyone thinks their dog is special, but you, my darling Miffy, truly were. You deserved to be bestowed with the highest civilian honours available for your selflessness, service (you would have done anything for your family and me, Nana and the extended family), bravery, loyalty and sense of duty to your family and others.

Studies have found that patting dogs lowers one’s blood pressure, heart rate and stress levels. My experiences with you, Miffy, confirmed that.

I will love you and miss you forever Miffy. Thank you for everything. I thank God for sending you into my (and your family’s) life.

If anybody ever deserved to be in Heaven, you do Miffy. So, I pray that you are there, running across vibrantly green meadows, swimming in creeks and the ocean, running along beaches and eating delicious roast chickens (you loved them) and succulent steaks.

I hope to see you again one day Miffy. Until then, just know I have loved you very much (as have many people and doggies loved you) and I will think of you lovingly every day for the rest of my life. You were one of the best dogs that ever lived. You were wonderful.