Remembering My Beloved Leo: A Heartfelt Farewell to a Friend at the Rainbow Bridge
Dear friends,
I want to take a moment to express my heartfelt gratitude for the outpouring of love and support following the loss of my beloved dog, Leo. Your kind words and comforting messages have meant the world to me during this difficult time.
Leo brought so much joy and happiness into my life, and knowing that he touched the hearts of so many makes his memory even more special. Thank you for being there for me and for honoring his spirit.
Leo was absolutely fine the night before he went to bed with my grandson, as usual. He loved being tucked up with Rhys, who is 14 and would take him to bed each night, wrapping him up like a little baby. That night was no different. Leo showed no signs of being ill; he was his usual happy self, although he had been a little more cuddly over the last couple of days. It was as if he were showing us signs that he knew he was leaving—not through illness, but through how he changed his attitude, coming for cuddles and laying his head in our laps.
He died in his sleep. In the morning, when I went to get him because he hadn't shown up, Rhys said he was still asleep on his bed. He actually crept out of bed after making sure Leo's cover was nicely over him and left the room, letting him sleep. I thought it was strange because Leo usually heard me in the morning and was up at my feet looking for his food. When I went to the bedroom, he was sound asleep this time forever, looking beautiful, peaceful, and very comfy.
Rhys was not worried that Leo lay next to him. In fact, he said, "I'm so glad I took him to bed last night." Their bond was special; Rhys has never known a time without Leo, as Leo has been by his side since his birth.
Leo, also known as Champion Blazinstaff Blazin Justice, was born into my hands almost 16 years ago, the cherished son of our beloved girl, Blazinstaff Eternal Flame. She was a beautiful, soft, loving girl, just like her son. Every second since Leo entered my life has been filled with fun, love, and laughter with this incredible lad. There have been some tears along the way, and now more tears as I say goodbye, but I hold onto the hope that one day soon, I will remember without the sadness—only with smiles and laughter. You deserve that, and I know that's how you would prefer us to remember you.
Named after my grandfather Leo, a man who has never left my head or my heart, you carry a legacy of one of the greatest men in my life. Your spirit and love mirrored his, and I will always cherish that connection.
Leo was an outstanding show dog, but he also loved his sporting adventures and tried to incorporate that spirit into his daily routine. When I took him to the harbor for walks along the water—something he adored—I would often turn around to find him pulling the rope of the fishing boat, thinking it was his sporting tug rope. I remember one day, when he was still new to the world of sporting, my good friends in the Netherlands taught him everything he knew. Unfortunately, they forgot to mention that it was no longer time for posing for the camera.
During one of his races against the clock, Leo spotted someone with a camera at the side of the track. He stopped dead in his tracks, right in the middle of the field, and struck his little show pose, just like he would have done at the shows. After a few poses, he resumed his race, but needless to say, he never won that race. What a moment it was, though! He made everyone laugh and reminded me that Leo would always do what Leo would do. Forever the poser, he remained that way right up to his dying day, always coming to me for his daily selfie.
Leo cherished his time in the Netherlands, where he learned his sporting antics that kept him on the fitness road for the remainder of his life. I’m sure this is what contributed to his remarkable longevity—16 years is a wonderful age for a Stafford. We have so many friends across the UK, Netherlands, Spain, and indeed around the world to thank for their support over the years. I wish I could mention each of you individually, but I know I would inevitably forget someone, and it would take me all day. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all for being part of our journey.
It was the day before you left us that I picked up the phone to arrange a special gift for you. Unfortunately, you won’t have the chance to see what it was, but I’ve decided to use it to help many others enjoy their lives with their dogs, just as I did with you. Leo, you have made me incredibly proud, and I thank you for that. Thank you for all the smiles you brought to my face and for all the friends and special moments you helped create.
In the last couple of days, I felt the strangest sensation—like you were coming to me all the time. I even thought for a second, are you trying to tell me goodbye? I quickly dismissed that thought and told you I loved you and spoke some words to you , just incase my feeling were correct.. For some reason, I took you outside for the last time. Not that I knew p it then, but I captured those final moments with some selfies. You loved them, didn’t you, Leo? I took a whole bunch of pictures of us. It felt like I had a gut instinct saying something, but I tried to ignore it. You were old and had lived longer than expected for your breed. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me.
Yet, if you knew what was going on and that you were leaving us soon, thank you for that message. It gave me the chance to say a few words to you that I wouldn't have otherwise. After that talk, I decided to have something made for you—something to let you know you were special to me. You won’t get that now, but hopefully, when it’s done, you will see it and know this was your final gift from me.
I find comfort in knowing that you left us peacefully in your sleep. You looked so cute, all tucked up in covers with my grandson Rhys, looking so comfy and cozy. You were never alone; you always had us by your side, and that day was no different. You looked so beautiful, like a young puppy, so at ease. It’s a memory I will treasure forever. I love you, Leo.
Sixteen years passed in the blink of an eye, and now I find myself in a world that feels so achingly empty without you. You were born straight into my hands, a precious member of the Blazinstaff family, and you filled my life with boundless joy. You were not only a show dog, a champion in the ring, but you were a true champion in my heart. Your spirit was vibrant, a sporting fan who relished every moment of life, running around and playing until your very last day.
Your adventures took you to wonderful places—Spain with some amazing people, the Netherlands with fantastic friends. You brought me so many cherished memories and connections, weaving a tapestry of friendship that will forever remind me of you. Losing you feels like the end of an era, the last of my Blazinstaff dogs, and the weight of that loss is heavy on my heart.
As I sit here, the house feels so empty. I wander from room to room, not knowing what to do or how to concentrate. I flip through my phone, scrolling from app to app, but I cannot absorb anything. The pain is raw, my eyes stinging from tears that seem to flow endlessly. A dog is family; they are like our children. You shared all my secrets after Ember left us, and I find solace in the hope that you are now reunited with her and Fusion, your beloved sisters, brothers, and doggie family, at the Rainbow Bridge.
To all my friends in the dog world, thank you for your unwavering support during this heartbreaking time. Your words of encouragement mean the world to me. Leo, I will never forget you. I will hold you dear in my heart until the day my own heart stops beating. Losing you is incredibly tough; today, I have tears in my eyes, but I hope that one day, I can remember you with a smile, cherishing the happiness you brought into my life.
As I move forward, I will take your memory and carry it with me, honoring the love you gave and the joy you brought into my life. I will do something meaningful with it, not just for you, but for all the dogs I have lost over the years. Each one has left an imprint on my heart, and I will ensure their memories live on in the love and kindness I share with others.
I don’t want to stop writing, as I feel it means coming to the end of saying goodbye, and that hurts—oh, how it hurts. I don’t want to let go, but I know I must now wish you well on your travels and let you know that you are free to run. If you need me, look to the moon, and I will be there, just like I know you will be for me. Goodnight, Leo. Bless you and run free at the bridge. See you again one day. Xx
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