La playa sin ella.

It's not the first time I've been to Minnie's favourite beach since she died, 3 weeks ago today, but today it really got to me.
I have been too upset to speak about her until now, but sitting watching the waves and breathing the salt air she loved, I felt I should: she deserves a tribute.
I'm glad I posted so many pictures of her on Blip; there are more but those are the only ones I remembered to tag. Anyone who's read Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy will know what I mean when I refer to her as my Daemon. She was always close by and totally devoted to my well-being. She knew my moods and was always there for a cuddle when needed. She stayed by my bedside for the weeks and months when I was recovering from life-threatening events. On walks she would run ahead to scope out the terrain, then run back to me to show me the safest places to place my feet. She was devastated if I had to go away and would climb into my case in the hopes of coming too. If I was away for just a few hours she would remain by the door where I'd left her (I've been told). She has been with me for the whole of my Blip journey of over nine years, posting every day. She came with me on my last big adventure, coming out here with me in a pet carrier in the hold of the plane (and extremely glad to see me at the other end). She got a new lease of life here, exploring beaches, prehistoric sites, quarries, caves, forts, abandoned military bases  and many woodland and seaside walks. She was a natural model and loved  to pose on the chaise longue in the studio. It's a comfort to me that she had such a happy and active life, and we were devoted to each other. There could never be a more loving dog. Mine was the first human touch she felt when she was born, and the last as she died.
I miss her so much today.