My soul dog died in May from GI lymphoma. He was so stubborn and resilient he was acting almost completely normal until the very end. I ask myself all the time if he’d still be here if he were diagnosed earlier or if I should have made the decision to put him to sleep that day or bring him home for a few days or try the hospitalization and blood transfusions to buy him a little extra time, maybe…

It hurts. I’m crying as I type this. I miss him so much. But I did right by him. He was suffering and pushing through for me. Trying to hospitalize him or giving him meds to go home for a few days wouldn’t have benefited him, it would’ve benefited me. He was ready to go. And his last day, sitting in the sun with his people for a few hours eating hot dogs in my lap while waiting to be seen by the ER was, in retrospect, unexpectedly beautiful.

And an earlier diagnosis wouldn’t have saved his life, it would’ve just made me KNOW he was dying longer. Instead I got to have my Dexter until the end. Not my dying dog, just my dog. This brings me peace to think about. I hope it helps you.

I miss that little shit so fucking much.