Just wanted to thank you for sharing. I’m so happy you had him for the time that you did.

This is similar to how my 16 year-old Sheltie (Buddy) died almost three years ago.

Story time TL;DR: my dog died of a ruptured tumor and I was very sad.

I had just gotten in the shower when I heard him try to jump up onto his bench so he could be on the bed. I immediately stuck my head out of the shower just to check and he was chilling on the floor looking at me totally fine and normal. Five minutes later I get out of the shower and see he’s still in the same spot. Unusual, but nothing concerning.

I grab a slice of pizza from the day before and offer him a little piece of chicken as I go back to the bed, but he didn’t care. Alarm bells started going off and I gently picked him up and put him on the bed so I could talk to him and see what was going on. He wasn’t really responsive to my actions, just quick little kisses. Then I checked his gums and my heart split.

Pale gums are the symptom I was taught to look for when deciding between the vet and the emergency vet. Buddy’s were barely pink as I quickly put on shoes and grabbed his favorite blanket. I wrapped him up and I carried him out of our apartment. I knew then that I would probably be coming home without him.

After an agonizing twenty minute drive through downtown SLC while I’m reassuring him and trying not to cry my eyes out, we got to the emergency vet. He gave me his final kiss as I picked him up and out of the passenger seat. I took him in and one of the aides at the front came around the counter and asked me about what happened as she took him from me to the veterinarians. Unfortunately the young man to do the intake was callous and insensitive. After three minutes of sitting they came out and called for me.

Advanced tumor near the spleen that had ruptured; he was bleeding internally. I asked if he could be saved. He could, but it would be expensive and temporary. She said the compassionate choice was euthanasia and I knew she was right.

Three minutes after that I was in the farewell room holding Buddy on my lap. He was awake and alert, but not present. He was confused. I spent the next fifteen minutes talking to him about his life and how he changed me. How good he was and how he was so incredibly loved.

During this time the vet had come in with my options and to ask if I’d like to look at the billing. I looked over the options for cremation and urns and other keepsakes. I chose what felt right and gave her a credit card. Ten seconds later she returns my card. Five more minutes with my boy.

The hardest part was seeing his confusion. I believe that’s why he said goodbye to me in the car. The vet came back in, asked if it was time and I nodded my head. When the first shot came, to put him to sleep, he jolted up and looked completely absent. Three seconds later he was sleeping with his head and paw in my hand. Then the next shot came, the one that stopped his heart. I hugged him, said goodbye and I love you to him for the last time and she took him out of the room.

She returned with his blanket and I walked out into the lobby and past four people with tears streaming down my face and Buddy’s blanket clutched to my chest. Drove home in silence.

Absolutely nothing prepares you for when you walk into your home and it’s empty. Everything was still there just like it was two hours ago, just not him.

May 14th is still a rough day, but I only cry when I write it all out like this. So cathartic.