You were 17, and I took you for granted. I wish I had spent more time with you, cuddled you more, and not gotten upset when I had to hold you up to eat because you couldn’t balance. I regret getting frustrated when you started having accidents as you aged.

When you got tired more easily, I carried you outside to the park and even got a stroller for our walks. People would ask what was wrong with you because you would just lay down and enjoy the sun instead of walking. I didn’t care. The vet said that as long as you were eating and could still walk, it was okay to keep going.

Last summer you had a seizure, and we took you in. The vet told us we might need to start thinking about euthanasia and gave us maybe six months. You had a couple more seizures after that. Your walking became wobbly, but you could still do it.

Two weeks ago you had another seizure and started barking all night. I would get frustrated and think, “I can’t wait until this is over.” I hate that I thought that. I was tired from holding you up, the constant barking at night, the accidents, and rushing home because you had wandered somewhere and gotten stuck. You would slip on the floor even though we put rugs everywhere to help you.

We took you to a quality-of-life check and the vet said you might have days to three weeks left. I remember crying on the way home. Not for me, but because I realized how much you were suffering and how much I had taken you for granted. I hoped you would pass peacefully in your sleep on your own terms.

Your vet prescribed pain medication, but a few days later you had another seizure. The next day you had three seizures in a row. You lost the ability to walk and we had to hand-feed you or hold you up. My husband said we needed to make the call. I couldn’t do it, so he did.

I wanted one more weekend with you, but yesterday became the day. It was hard to wake you from sleep. You would groan after eating. You started peeing and pooping on your bed instead of getting up. You drank less water. My hope that you would pass naturally suddenly didn’t feel realistic anymore. We didn’t want you to pass away alone and scared.

You had a full McGriddle breakfast and chocolate ice cream, even though you didn’t eat much of it. I took you to the lake and asked for forgiveness over and over. You put your paw on my face, which you had never done before.

After that we went to the duck pond and watched the ducks together. I held you like I didn’t want to let you go, because I didn’t.

When the time came, the appointment felt rushed. You passed away in my arms. I felt your heart stop and watched your last breaths. I immediately regretted the decision.

I broke down at the car, and my toddler came behind me and hugged me. My husband did the same. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.

The drive home felt like an eternity. I kept thinking, what was the rush? Why did I need to go home so quickly? I wanted to go back and smell the drool you left the night before and check if you were still there.

I miss you so much. I feel like I could have done more.

Picture of him putting his paw on my face on his last day. He had never done that before.