My elder son, Simon, said goodbye to his old, loyal and much-loved dog, Fonzie, yesterday.
They had been together half of Simon's life, and Fonzie — beautiful, athletic, smart, gentle and devoted — long ago assumed legend status.
But the time had come for Simon to do the right thing by the poor old Fonz, whose eyesight and hearing were almost gone, and whose back legs were arthritic and weakening fast to the point that recently there were times when he just couldn't get up.
Between 20 and 30 people turned up to a party to farewell Fonz on the holiday Monday, in Perth's beautiful Hyde Park.
Then Simon and three of his best friends, who had all known Fonzie since he was a puppy, lifted him into the car and drove him to our farm down south.
There, they gave him the sort of day he'd have loved as a young and healthy dog.
He spent the morning snoozing in the sunshine, padding about the farm (where I photographed him, above) and sticking close to Simon. Then he had the afternoon at the beach.
He was a fantastic swimmer, and the beach was his all-time favourite place. The five of them all went for a long swim together, and Fonzie enjoyed the weightlessness, and the cool water on his tired old back and limbs.
He was put to sleep just after 4pm, with the smell of salt in his grey-tinged coat, and sand still in his paws.
They buried him on the farm, with a can of food and a tennis ball.
This is his view.