Get a tissue. And another. Actually, maybe just grab the whole tissue box and probably some loo roll too and while you're there, maybe even some eye drops and a towel, because you are about to cry. Weep. Break down, even. To quote Hanna Hanra, i-D's Digital Director, "I literally cried with [my] dog on me then dried my tears with her ears. Then kissed her snout for about 20 minutes."
Because Tom Hardy's dog has died. And he's written an obituary for it. If you own a pet, you'll understand.
Yes, Tom Hardy, that tough looking guy famous for playing tough dudes like gang leaders and hunters and Mad Max, that guy whose last name is literally sixty percent hard. Turns out he's actually pretty soft and has lots of feelings and quite a large percentage of them are directed at his dog.
*plucks a tissue*
Clearly the badass calibre of his characters has rubbed off him, because he opens the essay (yes) with a highly dramatic episode about how he risked his prized Hollywood flesh to save an animal from tearing into a highway, "hurtling away from us towards impending doom." A shrill whistle from Tom, and suddenly the dog "decided to run straight at me in the darkness all flashes of teeth and snarling And shrieking. Fuck this I thought that's not a fkn dog."
But it was a fkn dog, it was a fkn stray 11 week old pup who they decided to call Woodstock because when trying to determine Woodie's sex, Tom could "feel his Woodstock."
He then talks about how Woodie was probably one of the most beloved dogs in Hollywood, beat Jaws in TIME magazine's list of most influential animals, and other fun facts like how "he ate a turd and we chased him to drop it but he gobbled it down because he must have thought we wanted to eat it. So he ate it as fast as he could."
RIP Woodstock. Our thoughts are with Tom in this difficult time.
Also, if anyone is reading this in Wellington region of New Zealand please give my dog a hug for me and tell her I love her and I miss her and that I'll Skype soon.
Text Georgie Wright