'When I wrote about not loving my dog, people were enraged. Now he's gone, I need to say something.'

Thirteen years ago, I wrote a post for Mamamia about how I didn't really love our family dog, Tiger. He was 18 months old at the time.

I liked him well enough, made sure he was fed, groomed, had his flea and tick medication, had a long walk every day and enjoyed trips to the dog park a few times a week.

He came along with us on beach holidays. And still. I didn't feel the love — not like I'd felt for previous dogs, not like I thought I was meant to.

Maybe it was because I had a houseful of young kids and there wasn't much left for Tiger. I didn't know. I didn't understand. I felt bad and I wrote about that.

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It was my first experience with anything like 'cancellation'. The commenters came for me, hard.

Their gist was, 'You should never have got a dog at all.' There were countless offers to rescue him. I was called heartless, cold, self-obsessed, cruel and stupid. People said they pitied not only Tiger but my husband and kids too.

Someone contacted the RSPCA, who sent an officer to check on Tiger's welfare. She seemed annoyed at having to be there and said, "We worry about a lot of animals. Not this fella."

A local radio station offered to engage a pet 'psychologist' to come and telepathically interview Tiger to try and sort out our lack of connection. I took them up on it. It made for funny content.

After a while, the caravan moved on, as it always does, and my life with Tiger continued. We got to know each other. As the kids grew up and away and the house quietened, as my work fluctuated and my health wobbled, Tiger and I grew close. An odd couple, but a couple nonetheless. He napped as I wrote, barked when the postman came, paced in crazy circles in the late afternoon when it was time to walk. We understood each other.

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Love isn't always instantaneous, with people or pets. Sometimes it takes a while.

Tiger left us on Saturday. He was sad and sick and ready to sleep. Even a shred of hot barbecued chicken skin couldn't tempt him to eat. He hadn't had water for a day and a half.

The vet came to the house.

I wish those commenters from 13 years ago could have seen us, my husband, me and our 18-year-old daughter (barely three when Tiger arrived) sitting cross-legged around his basket, our hands stroking his thin body, feeling his breaths grow shallower as the first medication did its thing.

We wondered aloud about which of the four houses we'd lived in had been his favourite and agreed it was probably the one with the scrub turkey nest at the bottom of the garden. We laughed at how much he loved eating ice-cubes, better than any doggy treat, but tricky to take on walks. We remembered how, when he was feeling ashamed, he looked oddly like a young princess Diana.

Watch: To Dogs, Our Best Friends. Post continues after video.

Tiger enjoyed a lifetime of good health, punctuated by a few skin-related surgeries. Our phones are filled with hilarious photos of him wearing 'cones of shame'. A few months ago, one clever vet suggested we, "Pop him into a toddler singlet to keep him from fussing at the stitches." We bought a three-pack from Kmart. The dinosaur motif was his favourite.

Tiger was a Lagotto, an Italian breed known for its ability to sniff truffles. He never had a chance to do that, but he was Italian to his core, preferring to eat late at night and lying out in full sun, even on Brisbane's hottest days.

He wasn't especially social, was suspicious of other dogs and ambivalent about people other than his own. He was dreamy, unfocussed, lazy and handsome. He hated baths, loved the pool, was scared of surf.

He was happiest when the family was around.

Image: Supplied.

On Saturday, while we were waiting for the home vet to come, we noticed he was anxious with us sitting so close, watching him so intently. He was shaking like he was cold, couldn't seem to get comfortable, wanted to get up. Maybe he thought we were going to try to give him a tablet or take him for a walk when he just wasn't up to it.

What do you not understand? I'm tired and I'm sick, can you please give me some goddamn space?

We moved away from him, but stayed in the room, and went about our weekend like it was an ordinary one, as if we didn't know what was about to happen.

I made coffee and my husband drank a smoothie. The hum of the espresso machine and the screech of the blender seemed to calm Tiger. He closed his lovely green eyes.

He was home. 

Feature Image: Supplied.