The vets phoned at 10:15. They put me on the speakerphone in the operating room, and told me that they couldn't do anything for Jazzy. I've got an enormous lump in my throat and I wish so so much that I could have been there to say goodbye. They didn't bring her round from the anaesthetic, and they said it was peaceful. I don't feel peaceful. I want my furry friend. I want to go upstairs and find her waiting for me on my bed. I want her to come and steal my chips. Bark at me in the mornings until I provide milk-bones. Flip her food dish around when she's hungry. Bite visitors.

They are sending me her ashes.