Poor little Brak

Last night Brakkie could not climb Sean's stairs, didn't want his ham and didn't really want to go out in the garden. So I carried him up last night. This morning he stayed upstairs until I went to fetch him to carry him down. He didn't follow me anywhere and I had to carry him out to the scooter. I picked him up and put him at my feet on the train, where he just lay. When we got into Folkestone, I had to carry him to the scooter and discovered that he had wet himself. Last night his breathing was shallow and laboured and at one point his eyes rolled back, showing the white of his eyes while his legs jerked.

He is going back to the Vet this afternoon, and I'm preparing myself for the advice to end his suffering. I am trying not to cry as I don't want to upset him.