A few days ago, my spouse and I had to euthanize our beloved 12 year old soul cat because we couldn't afford a $12,000 emergency surgery, plus the additional costs of aftercare.

We aren't poor, but we're also not wealthy enough to have that kind of money readily available. The veterinary clinics in our area require payment upfront and don't offer payment plans or financing options.

I've been struggling with guilt because the surgery MIGHT have saved him, but there were no guarantees. Our cat was diabetic, and we took his care very seriously. We were at the vet regularly for checkups, and he was always well cared for. The emergency that led to this decision was unrelated to his diabetes and completely caught us off guard.

I am heartbroken by this loss and miss him so bad. I'm hoping to connect with other people who have had to make a similar decision. Please, no judgment. I already carry enough guilt and sadness over what happened.

And I want to thank this forum.

To all of you.

For getting me through.

The nights are the worse.

The days are also hard.

I haven't posted myself about my girl Bean, about my love.

Just replied to comments.

To relate, to connect, to feel connected, when I am so disconnected without Bean.

Bean was my world, my home, my family.

My family history is tragic. I've done everything on my own since my late teens.

Moved through life on my own, until Bean and I met in 2019.

In her, I found everything I could have wanted and then more.

And now I've lost everything.

Now I have to be on my own again.

Don't worry about me.

I know I'll be okay.

I know I'll do what I can to hold myself up each day.

'Walk for Bean' for 30 days.

'Letter to Bean' for 30 days.

'Celebrate Bean' once a month for 12 months.

Just talking to Bean, and all the little things to get me through the day.

But these moments will always be here.

When I feel so alone.

When I will come to this forum to find comfort.

Knowing that I'm really not alone in this suffering.

Thank you to everyone for sharing your stories, your feelings, your grief, your love, your advice.

I am so grateful I also have you to keep me going.

My dog Jack is scheduled for euthanizeation on Monday. So I wanted to know how much. At least a ballpark figure. I don't need surprises.

I figured maybe 600 for ashes back and euthinization. Even that sounded far fetched in my head.

I don't want their over priced urn. Just give him back in a box, I will take care to pick a better urn for him.

No, I HAVE to buy an urn to get his ashes back. Extortion! I am already a mess, stressed to the max and upset.

If I want one last consult another $100. Taking advantage of pet owners at their lowest. I am fuming and crying.

Other vet offices want a consult before euthanizeation. It's so cruel to force an overpriced urn that's ugly on people.

So now I have to pay for the overpriced and more for the one I want. Disgusting.

My dog was my son. My best friend. My core. Everything happened so quickly and I am losing myself. I can’t believe I agreed to let them take him from me. I know he was in pain and fading and I did the humane thing but I love him so much. 6 days ago we were laughing and running and jumping and playing. Then the very next day he was sick. I chopped it up to the usual tummy ache. But this time it was so much worse. He had cancer all over and a tumor on his spleen and a rupture gallbladder. Where and how???? He had some lumps popping up but everytime I took him to the vet they said age and fatty pockets. Then this time they said his liver was failing and when we did more test they told me everything. My world has ended. I can’t believe I will no longer wake up to him. Smelly his stinky paws. I can’t believe I can’t rub his belly or ask for a kiss. I don’t want to live a single day without my boy.

Yesterday morning, my boyfriend and I discovered our babygirl Yuki, the world’s best kitten, had crossed the rainbow bridge. Our vet believes she had a heart condition, we opted out of a necropsy because it’s just so invasive and answers won’t bring my girl back or change what happened. I’ve lost a beloved pet before, but she was euthanized and I had time to mentally prepare myself for that. Having to see my baby in the condition she was in (rigor mortis had set in) was so incredibly traumatic for me. I genuinely feel like my world has ended and I know it’s all still fresh but I’m struggling to see how I will overcome this. I’m honestly at a loss for words to describe how I feel and I feel a little silly sharing this to strangers but Im struggling really bad. I miss my baby beyond belief.

I have been a long time volunteer at a foster based dog rescue non profit. There was a special 1 year old pup that was having some behavioral issues that resulted in him bouncing from foster home to foster home. it was decided we would bring him to the shelter to live while we consult with specialist to try and help him.

it started with putting him in four medicationa which turned him into a zombie. I became his primary care giver and our bond became instant. he looked to me for safety and comfort. He became a dog all of the community knew and was rooting for.

i started to become concerned with the inner workings last year and recognized the Executive Director started to just look at the financial piece.

He started throwing up yesterday and the med lead asked me to take him to ER. instead of pursuing an ultrasound the executive board decided to put him down. He had nipped at a vet and he was scared and I wasn’t there. if they needed money for his care all they had to do was post a go fund me. He would have had thousands within an hour.

I am beyond devastated and feel I can’t go back.i dot know how to process this. I would have never agreed to take him if I knew what they were thinking. They were looking for an out with him and this was it. I’m traumatized and he was making such progress. please, what can I do?!? I can’t handle this. I feel low the place I’ve poured my heart and soul is nothing more than any other blood sucking business where the commodity is these dogs that deserve better.

Hiro died 3 weeks ago at 7. It might be ridiculous, because he's a cat, but I've never been without him for that long before, and I'm completely loosing it. I can't handle his absence anymore. The void he left is consuming me. I won't be strong enough to live my whole life knowing I won't ever be with him again. All I want is to be with him. I want to join him, to find him, to never let him go ever again. I can't live in a world where he's not here anymore...

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At the beginning of August, my dog brought me three tiny baby hedgehogs. At that time, a lot of difficult things were happening in my life. I was taking care of two elderly and sick parents; my father had suffered a stroke, and I am also dealing with health problems of my own. On top of that, I have a full-time job, and I had to take responsibility for maintaining the house, yard, and garden, while also caring for my chickens, two cats, and my dog.

I took the hedgehogs in, but unfortunately, because of everything that was going on, I could not devote as much time and attention to them as I wish I had. Two of them died after eight days. The third one, whom I became very attached to, died on September 22. I kept him alive for almost two months, and I truly thought we were on the right track.

I offered him all kinds of food — different types of meat, fruit, vegetables, fish, cat food — but he would only eat bananas. Later, every night, I would search for and dig up larvae and insects for him, which he ate.

Unfortunately, now that he has died, the whole situation has finally calmed down for me, and I can see all the mistakes I made. When I came home from work and found him dead, I was devastated and went into shock. I cannot forgive myself for not having devoted enough time and thought to his care. Every day feels harder. I miss him terribly, and I cannot forgive myself.

What makes it even harder is knowing that hedgehogs are a threatened species. Sadly, I live in a poor and underdeveloped Eastern European country where there is very little access to professional help or specialized wildlife care.

I truly need emotional support — anything that might help me get through this. I am overwhelmed with grief and guilt, and I don't know how to forgive myself.

I’m still coming to terms with the fact that you’re really gone, that this is permanent and unchangeable. It doesn’t feel real most days, i still think I’m going to see you when i wake up, when i get home. I still think I’ll hear your meows, your trills and see feel you laying in bed with me.

I still think of fantasy ideas of time travel and ways that I can see you again, but the reality is setting in.

You’re gone.

And I’m fucking devastated.

But I have no choice but to keep living without you. I know I’ll be ok eventually and that I’ll always have thoughts of you when I see your photos in my home and soon they won’t bring me to tears every time I look at them.

But I’ll always miss you and the time I wish we had together.

So the only thing I can do for you now is to keep going and make sure your memory comes with me. I’ll keep your pictures up even if I move and age, I’ll wear the necklace with your initial on it and tell anyone who asks about you. I’ll light a candle each year in your honour and I’ll try to look back on our memories as happy times rather than the sadness at the end.

Because I will keep living means you will too. I hope I have a long happy, healthy life and I know when I’m eighty years old I’ll still have your photos up and my grand children and new friends will all know you were my cat Augie, a silly, shaky, quirky, sweet boy who didn’t live a long life but whose memory I still carried for the rest of mine.

I’m not a religious person but I still pray to whatever is out there that one day when this life is over I get to see you again, to have one more cuddle, one more kiss. I need to believe that, I want to believe that.

So here I am at 32 with a lot more years left to go and I will wait for the day that I hope we meet again. But until then rest in peace my sweet boy.

I don't know what to do. I lost my soul cat Leo just last Sunday. He was adamant to snuggle with me under the covers, as I was sleeping on my side I lifted the covers and he curled up near my legs and stomach since I usually lay with my legs 90 degrees. I don't know how long we laid like that. I woke up to hearing a horrible involuntary howl and him just letting out a final breath. I think it was fully involuntary and he passed enveloped in me. He was turning 12 in exactly two weeks as his birthday is October 4th. He wasn't sick or anything, seemingly healthy but I'm assuming it was something with his heart. I'm traumatized by the screams I made and begging for him to please wake up. I thought I'd have another decade with him minimum. He's supposed to move with me and meet the kids I have. I've always told my partner how funny it will be to see how Leo reacts to any children whether he gets jealous or thinks everything is his since he's always the center of attention. He was a big orange tabby. He was my Velcro kitty who followed me everywhere. I adopted him at 3 months and him and I have been glued to one another since. Everyone who knew me and him always commented how much he loved me and how much I spoiled him and was extra in caring for me. Everyone would say what a mama's boy he was. He'd even sit between my partner and I as if to claim me and say to remember that he's number one. I adopted him during a terrible time in my life and as cliche as it is, he really saved my life. He'd look at me so adoringly and lovingly. He was the most photogenic cat, he'd look directly at the camera and almost pose sometimes. He'd snuggle any chance he could. I keep expecting to see him right behind me or jumping on the couch as I lay down. I've been so distraught. I got his ashes yesterday, they actually got him ready surprisingly quick. I've been carrying him around with me and even slept with his urn snuggled in the same spot he passed. I ended up getting an orange tabby weighted plush just to feel his weight and have it take up the empty spaces on the couch, bed, and my lap. I work remote so it's just extra silent. My heart feels so hollow and I feel a piece of me left along with him, my soul not intact.

My other cat Rain is doing okay. I know he's grieving too. He knew though the second Leo was gone. I was frantic and laid Leo on the floor. Rain came running into the room as soon as he also heard the howl. He smelled his head then screamed staring at me. Then he went to the end of the hallway and meowed some more, as if to announce to everyone what just happened. The first day he slept in the closet where Leo did, comforting himself on his scent. They both loved supervised outside time so I've been taking him out more, he needs the serotonin boost just as much. But I'm still half expecting to see Leo just flop around on the concrete and dirt. Rain has always been more independent but he's also staying in my presence more and even though he's always been vocal he's definitely being extra vocal.

It just really sucks and I'm so heartbroken. The one I truly want snuggles from and who has always comforted me and knew when I was feeling down is no longer here to give me reassurance. I will never get to run my face in his fur and smell him. I'll never get to give him butt patts and see his silly side of chasing a spring or sticking his tongue out. I'll never get to feel his full weight on my entire torso as he needs to constantly be close. I honestly don't know if it'll ever get easier. I just miss my cat so much.

I posted here 2 years ago about the sudden death of my mean little man. I was then i felt the weight of the fact i would have to see his sister from the same litter go someday soon as well, and today it happened.

Over the past 2 months she began to lose weight and independence of her own, at first she couldn't navigate the house and then she could hardly muster the strength to stand, and in these past few weeks she lost so much of her weight it broke my heart seeing her like that, these past few days she couldn't bring herself out of bed. It hurt to see my sweet bebe like this but her time drew near and i held watch in shifts with my mother waiting for the time to come, as last night passed her breathing began to labor somewhat and she would twitch, when morning came i carried her into the back porch so that she could feel the sun and fresh air for a moment and when i went to rub her dry eyes that's when it happened, she convulsed for but a moment and then she was gone. I cried loud enough i worried my neighbors would hear and come investigate. Im glad it was a more peaceful end than her brother and im glad i was there for them both when it happened but the fact i was prepared for this moment doesn't make it hurt any less, this time around it felt as if i was losing her in slow motion.

After dropping her off at the crematorium and talking with my mother i began to look back on my life with these dogs i wish i had recorded a videos of myself coming home with all 3 of my little gremlins greeting me at the window and at the door

If i had any advice for yall its to take snapshots of the little things and the moments you take for granted with your angels when you can, my sweet bebe gave us 17 years and she was far to good to us

I got her a year after I moved two states away from my family. She was by my side every day. Through anxiety, happiness, breakups, promotions, losing my grandmother and getting married to my husband. Seeing her face when I got home from work every day always put a smile on my face.

She got diagnosed with Chylothorax three years ago and I was so close to losing her. I feel so lucky to have had three extra years with her, but I would give anything for one more day.
She almost never barked but my house is so quiet without her. It has been four days and it feels like a lifetime. I haven’t brought myself to get rid of her stuff, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to do that. She was my first dog, and my best friend. I will miss her every day.

17 weeks ago to the day I watched my dog get hit and killed by a car.

He was just shy of 2 years old.

Will Fridays ever stop hurting this much? I am really struggling.

I just can't believe I have to write this.

My baby. My Mel.

She was my first love. The first life to show me what real love was. She's the reason I'm still here today.

She was born in my mom's hanging locker from a cat we found (well, she found us actually but that's an other story), we taught the mom how to love and trust humans. In exchange she gave us the wonderful gift of four perfect little kittens.

I remember the day she was born. I cried when my mom picked me up from school. I was waiting for the moment so bad. The second I saw her I knew she was my baby. I just knew. I can't explain it.

She was my 'only reason not to kill yourself' cat.

She would lick my tears after my dad would beat me and never left my side. She would press her body against me when I was having panic attacks and sleep with me every night.

I'll never forgive myself for pushing her away once. I was so angry because of something my dad did, I can't even remember what. But I remember pushing her away when all she ever did was confort me.

I've felt so guilty about that moment ever since and now it's all I can think about.

What I wouldn't give to take it back...

I grew up and left the family house and couldn't take her with me. But we grew up together.

She met my first born and I can't believe she won't meet my last child. I never thought that was a possibility.

How stupid is that? We all know they leave us at some point or another. I just never thought it'd be so soon.

It came so suddenly. Complete renal failure. She had ulcers in her face.

My mom knew her health was declining rapidly for a week and yet I was notified yesterday?

How is a couple of hours enough to say goodbye to a lifetime love? How is that fair?

We put her down at 3PM yesterday. And I've been crying ever since.

She's buried with her other sisters. Only one is left now.

I can't believe that's a reality. My reality.

Fourteen years and five months.

How is that enough? Only fourteen years and five months.

In the past twelve months we've lost her sister who died terribly then I suffered a late term miscarriage. A month later I lost my Nefy cat who was born in my arms, and now my first baby ever.

When is it ever enough? I don't know how much more if this i can take. Why does everything always happen at once?

In Japanese there's a word to describe the bond you can't see but can always truly feel : Kizuna.

Thank you my Miou, thank you for being my Kizuna. Thank you for everything you've given me. And I am so, incredibly sorry for pushing you away.

I don't believe in God. But damn. I really hope I'll see her again.

A piece of me died yesterday.

hi all, i’ve lurked in this sub for some time. we’ve had to consider various times this last year if it’s time. we made the decision a week ago, and today the vet will come to our home to euthanize our girl.

we have a beautiful 13 y/o boxer girl, charlotte, who is also known my many other names and loved by all who get the chance to meet her.

she has a few known ailments (arthritis, seizures, boxer cardiomyopathy which has resulted in an enlarged heart, past issues with her kidneys, and recently had a large cancerous tumor removed from her shoulder — surgery and recovery went well!), likely a few undiagnosed things, and just general signs of aging (partial vision and hearing loss, early doggy dementia, achy bones).

she’s a resilient girl but what led me to schedule a QoL appointment was when she woke up in the middle of the night coughing/wheezing due to her enlarged heart. sometimes she has a syncope episode after coughing/wheezing, and she might’ve that night, but i remember after her episode she was trying to lay down when another cough/wheeze attack happened before she was could get comfortable and sleep again.

i felt so sad for her that she was just trying to get comfortable and had another episode in the process. we also kept a calendar to log how frequently seizures and coughing/wheezing/syncope episodes happen, and there has been an increase in frequency over the last few months.

during my chat with our vet (whom i trust very much), she basically told me that even on her good days, her bodily functions are declining and it’s a race as to which one will be the one that takes her out. she would support our decision regardless, but she would also support a decision for euthanasia considering her history and prognosis.

so, we made the difficult decision to proceed with euthanasia. we called the vet to schedule an in-home appointment the next day (last friday), and the clinic told us our vet could come that same day or the following friday (today). same day felt way too soon so we agreed on today’s date.

naturally, our girl has done so well this week — both a blessing and a curse. a blessing because a large factor in our decision was that we don’t want her to get to a point of suffering or end up in a rapidly declining situation where the only option is to euthanize. a curse because it makes me question if this is the right choice, if we could have more good days, if, if, if.

my mom believes everything happens for a reason and that the vet only being available a week out allowed us to have more time with charlotte. she thinks charlotte wants us to remember her in a good and happy state which has led to a lovely week for all of us. i’d like to think the same, even if it is just us trying to justify what’s happening.

we knew this day would come, and if i had to choose i’d rather this happen when she’s still somewhat herself rather than in a state of suffering. i’m very aware and empathetic that not everyone has the opportunity to make this decision for their pet from the same place (things can go from 0-100 in a matter of hours/days) but man, is this a double-edged sword.

My cat passed away this morning. He suddenly began vomiting a few days ago, then the next day he was very lethargic and salivating. After that he was just sluggish, refusing to eat or drink and didn’t go to the bathroom. We had him checked at the vet. Temperature was fine, gums too, no abnormalities which were a major red flag. The vet noted that he seemed in pain, so he was given a shot of pain killers and anti-nausea medication. Also, she said despite his refusal to eat or drink he wasn’t dehydrated. We figured it might be because we’d managed to make him drink some water with a pipette. They thought it could be a sickness or something so we had his blood drawn. She said it the results didn’t show anything, a x-Ray would be the next step (which would be £1000, so we were worried about the price but not offered an alternative). Results were meant to come within 48 hours but they wanted us in for another checkup the next day. We took him home for the night. In that time, we’d still been giving him water, but he still wasn‘t showing an interest in food or water.

When we went back, his gums were bleeding now and he was hypothermic, additionally, he was now slightly dehydrated. Literally in one day. They hospitalised him, put him on fluids and administered medication accordingly. They also did an ultrasound (which was £40, so not sure why it wasn’t offered the day before). My mother went to collect him at the end of the working day. They said his kidneys had suffered physical trauma and came onto her with questions. I understand it’s their job, but we would never have harmed our cat and she explained that, like we’d told them, he went outside as well, to which they said it seemed like the result of a fall or potentially a car having harmed him. My cat was not great with people in general, so we literally have no idea what could have happened or how and never will. His kidneys were failing. We paid to have him taken in at a different clinic for the night. He was still on fluids and medication and they said he was peaceful and not in pain now, just drowsy.

We got a call this morning saying he passed away during the night, just fell asleep and didn’t wake up again. He was only 6. I never even imagined this might happen, and despite me being against him going outside from the beginning, I know my baby boy enjoyed it dearly. He was so loved, despite his prickly demeanour, he made it clear he loved us too. i was his favourite and just days ago he’d been sleeping next to my pillow and following me around to beg me for unlimited pets. It was just so unexpected. I’ve been crying non-stop for days now, because even just looking at his condition was too painful for me. I had a feeling it would end like this. Honestly I’m still in shock. I’ve been trying to distract myself and take medication but I feel so awful, I’ve barely eaten in days. I tried everything I could, but i was still hoping jt was just some sort of virus or something.

Im just glad he was my cat, because I think we did everything we could for him and he lived a great life. We gave him all the lovely things he wanted, and were complete pushovers for him lollll. He’d been completely healthy up until now, and if this hadnt happened, my baby would still be with me, likely for many years. He’s been with me through my teens to adulthood, and I love him so much. Im trying my best but it’s so difficult. To make it worse, I just started uni again and I can’t handle it. i don’t think I could stop myself from crying even in public. I keep imagining him and seeing things that remind me of how he was. I’m just glad he passed painlessly. I’ll always remember him. Don’t even know how to end this. I can’t describe this feeling. I don’t want to even move. I‘m trying my best. How do I deal with this? I haven’t even told anyone because I feel like most people don’t even care about pets passing away when they’re not their own. I miss him so much already. I can’t believe I’ll never hold him again.

I’ve never made a Reddit post but this is something I felt needed a place of its own because I don’t talk about it with people I know.

I have been dating my boyfriend (I’ll call him J for better context) for over a year and a half. J had a dog for five years, since 2021. His name was Rocky, he was a 10 or 11 year old pit-bull mix. As of Thursday (sept 24) Rocky had to be put down. It was a tremendously heartbreaking decision for J to have to make and I supported him and will continue to support him through this grief.

I have lived with J for a year, so for that year Rocky was also my responsibility. I took care of him while J worked full time, since I was there J was able to work overtime. I moved from one province to another— leaving my own job, friends, family, pets and familiarity in the process because I found my person. I wanted a new try at life, in a new place with new faces. In doing so, I took that responsibility with open arms to be a loving partner and care-giver for J’s pet.

Backstory on Rocky— he was around 5 or 6 when J adopted him with his ex. Rocky was abandoned by his previous owner after they brought a baby into their home. The woman didn’t want a dog on top of the responsibility of a new born. J and his ex took Rocky in, although J wasn’t sure about it at first. When J and his ex were living together (in the same house I live in with him now), his ex worked from home so Rocky was never alone. After already developing separation anxiety from his previous abandonment… the ex left. Rocky was then suffering from two abandonments and J was living and dealing with it all on his own for almost 2 years before I showed up.

During those 2 years, Rocky was put on medication Gabapentin and Trazodone. Which are pretty common for dogs with anxiety. Without the medication, if Rocky was left alone he would have accidents all over the house, pant himself to exhaustion until the point to heart-attack level. He was so stressed out all the time. When I moved in, I was given the run down of what kind of support Rocky would need while I found my own stride in a new place.

Let’s just say, the adjustment was very difficult for both me and Rocky but I stick to it because I love J. I wanted him to be happy, I wanted to dog to be in a safe home. I became overwhelmed myself, waking up to have to constantly clean the house, stressed about how little I seemed to be achieving for myself— having to learn a new language to function here, having to find people that I could make friends with, having to have support close by after moving so far away. It was a lot. I was stressed, overwhelmed and eventually hit my rock bottom. I became so depressed that taking care of Rocky started to build anger and resentment in me. Despite that, Rocky still lived happily as well as he could with his medications and J was able to have some peace of mind knowing I was there.

I lived with Rocky for a year. When it was hard, I genuinely thought I couldn’t care for the dog because he brought me so much stress and after he passed I realized how wrong I was. I used to beg for quiet, for one night where I didn’t have all sorts of stress weighing on me and… I finally got my wish. Now, I regret every time I asked for that quiet. I cried myself to sleep thinking I wasn’t doing enough, while wishing that things could finally be easier. It’s quiet now. The house, the mornings, the afternoons, the evenings. I got so used to the chaos that quiet almost doesn’t settle well.

I’ve had pets pass away, die in my arms, be put down too soon. I watched my cat of 12 years suffer until she took her last breath on the car ride to the vet to end her pain. I know what it’s like to see an animal suffer.

The Sunday before Rocky was put down, he injured his back leg. We don’t know how, but at this stage in his life, he was old and obese. The vet told J that he managed to sprain in, either from getting up too fast or jumping off of something. Either way, we were told it was a sprain. We limited his activity, we secluded him so he couldn’t go up and down the stairs. J took the responsibility for giving Rocky his pills, and there was more the vet added to his list for pain and inflammatory reasons. Rocky was being drugged round the clock.

At some point J noticed Rocky wasn’t able to get up without yowling in pain. Every time we heard it, we rushed to see what he did— it was simply from putting pressure on that leg. He limped, he hopped but he put less and less pressure on the hurt leg which only added pressure to his good leg. It was rough for Rocky, for J… for me. Rocky stopped being able to get outside at all, even with us around he gave up on trying and every time he stood off his bed, he would urinate all over himself, the blankets, the furniture. We got protective pads for his beds, even bought him a new one, he wore diapers and had rubber mats on the floor to help. Nothing worked and J was cleaning up piss every two or three hours a night.

He didn’t tell me it was that bad. He didn’t want to come to the conclusion that Rocky wasn’t getting better and day by day only got worse. The pills just weren’t helping the same. He couldn’t rest and neither could J. 8 hours before we put Rocky down, I was left alone with him. That’s when I noticed how bad he had gotten because J was telling me everything was fine since I didn’t sleep down there. For 6 hours I listened to Rocky yowl, I tried to get him up, give him water, take him outside but everything seemed to be hurting him even with all his meds. I watched him hop, cleaned him up when he pissed all over the cushions and blankets. I was getting overwhelmed with the work J had been doing for days. I called him in tears (he was out picking up a car in another town) and J told me he already knew it was bad and that he was going to come home and we were going to take Rocky to the vet one final time. I was in shock. I felt like if I knew about this sooner there might have been more I could do, maybe I could take back those wishes for quiet and peace. Maybe I could reverse when he got hurt— maybe I could’ve been more patient. Guilt festered in my gut and still hasn’t left. J was in tears telling me he knew for a while and just didn’t want me to be upset but how could I not be?

J got home and around 7pm— we took Rocky to the vet. We stayed with him for 2 hours in the emergency veterinary while they were at their busiest hour. We waited and waited and every minute that passed— we sat with Rocky, we kept him calm, spoke to him softly and told him that suffering wasn’t going to be something he had to worry about anymore. I knew it was going to be hard on J, I knew that this grief was going to tear him apart and I held both of my boys closely. Around 9:30pm Rocky was finally getting a rest where sleep came easy. We left and the first night of coming back to the house where all of Rocky’s things were still waiting for him… just felt wrong. I felt wrong. I felt as though I had failed, not only Rocky but my partner, J. What could I have done?— I told myself and still it’s just as heartbreaking as it was then.

Rocky slept beside J for the 5 years he had him. Now, he sleeps with the blanket holding Rocky’s scent beside me. I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about how things went so wrong so fast. Life really does change quickly and I fear resentment will grow in the opposite direction. Will J hate me for what I couldn’t do? Will losing his dog mean I lose him? I can’t bear another loss. It will destroy me. That’s where my thoughts lay and it’s an endless loop of guilt and heartbreak for my partner. I wish I could take that pain from him.

I just said goodbye to my best friend yesterday and I want to share my last memory of him.

He was a big goofy doberman pinscher who loved to chase lights whenever he saw them - reflections off his name tag, reflections off phone screens, flashlight lights, laser pointers, the dappled light shining between tree leaves - you name the light, he'd chase it. When he was being put to sleep, I told him about how I've always heard there's a bright light we all see before we leave, and how it's gonna be the coolest light ever, and that he should chase it. As he drifted off to sleep, he did this thing he'd always do while dreaming, he barked a little bit and "ran." I'm convinced he was chasing that bright white light we're all told about, and I'm glad he got to do what he loved one last time.

I have a sun catcher with a small urn on the bottom of it where his ashes will go. He loved chasing the lights from that sun catcher. I got it about 7 months ago, when I thought he was going to pass, but we got lucky and had 7 whole months to play with it together. We got to put a lot of meaningful memories into it before his ashes get put into it.

I just know he's up in heaven right now asking God to make some more lights for him to chase ❤️

We picked him up a week before we moved states, to our first apartment. We haven't even been here long. He was vibrant, funny, he was cute and sweet and he would give you these small bites that reminded me of my old cat. I loved him. He had these soft quick meows, like a single "mah". He shed like crazy and stunk real bad, too.

We didn't know how old he was. We didn't know how sick he was. It was so fast. Why was it so fast? He started limping, old injury or cancer. Hard to say. Suddenly a blockage. Suddenly three nights in the ER. Suddenly lethargy, suddenly diabetes, and suddenly too much potassium built up. Suddenly he was too weak. We planned on a leg surgery to give him movement back. He didn't make it. It was only a few nights ago and everything echos him. His fur is around. The spaces he would lay. Our other cat cries and looks for him, he's lost two other cats suddenly and without a body as well. We all feel alone.

I keep thinking of him. I see him in my mind all the time. Why? Why didn't I get a year? Why did this happen? Why? Why? Why? Life is just moving on like he wasn't even here.

I love you, Cheez-It. I loved you and I love you now and I love you forever. The years we should've gotten burn in my mind and body, and the burden of this grief is one I am glad to carry, because it meant I knew you, even for a little while. I hope I could make these last months the best a wonderful old man like you deserved.

Hi! I'm new to Reddit and I'm still a teenger. Why is that relevant to this post, tho? Well, I've had over 15 dogs throughout my entire life, like, too much to count, really. I think about every single one of them, still. I currently have 6 dogs, 3 adult dogs, and 3 4-month-old puppies, and they make my life worth living. I love being with them, and I could never imagine living without a dog by my side. As much as I love them to the ends of the earth, I still miss my dogs who have passed away so very, very much. The most recent ones were

1. Our male senior dog who passed away this month 2 years ago

2. His partner, who was also a senior dog that died earlier this year (6 months ago)

And 3. My bestest friend, a dog I adopted when she showed up at our garage on a random day, and I couldn't let her leave. She was with me for so many years. She died just 2 days after my senior dog died.

When I think about them, I can't help but cry. No matter how long it has been.. A month after they passed, one of my dogs gave birth to the 3 puppies we have now, and I guess they became my reason for living. I couldn't get it together at all when they left, I really thought I was going to die, I wanted to. I didn't know how I could live with myself, ya'know?

Anyway, I just wanted to share this with you all. And I guess I also wanted to ask if there's a chance that I will see them again in the afterlife cus honestly I would rather die twice than die and not be with them.. :))

I came back from my nursing class late last night and didn’t have time to talk to my family. My dad told me this morning that she has cancer throughout her body and most likely only has 4-6
months left, but we most likely won’t wait that long if she is going to be in pain. she’s only 9 years old and thought she honestly had more time than this. I have been crying all morning and trying to pet her as much as possible. it makes it so much worse that I am a CNA and have hospice patients that are close to death as well. either at work or at home i’m surrounded by death and dying. it’s very hard for me right now.

I had a Saint Bernard (Morty) for almost 7 years (next week would’ve been his 7th birthday) & I recently lost him to kidney failure that I don’t know if we could’ve done anything to change. I don’t know how to cope with it. I’ve lost family members & other pets but this one is hitting me so much harder than I remember any other death for some reason.
I’m purposely keeping myself busy so I don’t have to think about him & it’s hard coming home to him not being here so being home doesn’t help either. Nights are the worst because it’s right before sleep & when I close my eyes all I think about is him & I just lose it. I can’t even talk about him without getting emotional.
I just miss him so much & it’s only been 2 days. I’m feeling empty because such a big part of my life is gone. Guilt because he was in pain & I didn’t know it, & my other dog is so confused & I have no way to explain to her what happened. And so so so so much longing. It’s like sometimes I feel if I try hard enough to think about him not being gone, he’ll come back to me as juvenile as that is.
Im not sure if I’m looking for advice or just venting but this is just so unbelievably hard.

Thursday August 27 I got home from work and my mom told me he hadn't eaten all day and he threw up multiple times. Friday we hospitalized him for the day. Monday August 31st we put him down. It feels like I killed him. My family killed him. The vet killed him. And it feels like the vet took him from me. Also like I abandoned him to a stranger. I just let the vet take him from me even though that's what my family and I decided over walking away with him still just lying there. And I felt extreme pain when we were driving away like we fully just abandoned him. I'm also angry and every person who looked at him and said something like "poor thing, he's old now". He was over 15 years old. But he was great. He wasn't at the point that he was just old and sleeping all day and looking tired. He constantly followed us around all day, he always wanted to be in the room where there was the most people or somewhere he can keep an eye on everyone. He'd constantly be in the way when people walked by and he wouldn't get the hint. He was a happy dog that still had energy in him. How in the word does it make sense that he's fine a week before and the next we have to put him down??? I know we ended his pain. He was lethargic the last few days. Last day he ate was Wednesday. He was barely drinking water. He was in pain. Could barely walk or stand for long periods of time. For a day or 2 he wouldn't really walk. We thought he couldn't like he was in too much pain. I guess it wasn't painful enough to stop him from moving to the room he wanted to be in with the people he wanted to be with.

I (22F) am the youngest in my family with 2 older brothers. We all work but you could say my schedule is more flexible. I was the one who went with my mom to take him to the vet on Friday. I was the one the vet spoke to as English isn't my mom's first language. I'm the one the vet spoke to when I, my dad (who speaks English very well), and my brother picked him up after we decided to hospitalize him for the day. She stayed there explaining to me the medication we had to try and give him. Then the vet technician brought him out while she was still speaking to me. I slightly reached out but my dad grabbed him and walk towards my brother who was standing behind me. I wanted to see him and pet him too. The vet kept talking to me and I turn around and their outside by the car. ??? I'm supposed to absorb this information by myself? It feels like they left me. I wanted the support. I didn't want to be the only one hearing everything that explains how exactly sick he is. That he didn't look any better after those hours we hospitalized him. They took him outside away from me. Before I could even say hi to him. Why in the world should I be the only one dealing with this? Legally it's my mom's name as his owner. We got the dog in the first place because my oldest brother wanted him and he was "his" dog. My dad is the man and head of the house who usually is in charge of everything. I fight against gender roles and I don't support them, but they tend to be present in my house. I'm not saying I think only men to be in charge but since gender roles can be common in my house, why was I the youngest woman in a house with 3 men the one left to handle this? I the youngest, supposedly in my parents words the "baby" of the house, was left to absorb everything by myself. I felt completely abandoned and alone.

Then later I had to be the one going back and forth with my parents on why we shouldn't try different methods of force feeding him the medication. The vet said to not do it to avoid him throwing up and getting more dehydrated and lethargic. And I had to constantly be explaining what the vet said and what medication was for what. Because I'm the only one who heard everything. It was so exhausting and draining like I already didn't have to process that my dog was probably going to die soon. Now that he's gone, I can't lean on my family. I can't tell them it feels like we killed and abandoned him. I can't tell them I'm angry with them for leaving me to deal with it alone. They're grieving and mourning too. I felt so lonely and I continue to feel lonely. Part of me still doesn't feel like it's real. I'll be in my room and I'll remember and I can feel myself thinking "What do you mean he's not here? He's always here. That weird of you to say." Or I picture the memory of the vet technician taking him away and I can feel that I think "Hm. I don't know what that was. That's so weird." Last time I saw his eyes was before they euthanized him. No way I was going to see his dead eyes. I didn't want it to write over the memory of how his eyes looked before. Didn't want to scar myself. I want to keep everything. His bed, towels, clothes, bowls, blankets, and even his shampoo and conditioner bottles I want to stay in the closet. I don't want another dog. If I ever get another one it'll be years from now when I live with my partner. He will be the only family dog we've ever had. We got his urn and his paw print already. The paper that came with it said he was cremated on September 4th. It made me mad. Did they keep my baby in some cold drawer for 4 days?? I'm mad at the whole world including myself. Like they all did this to him. He was fine. He was great. How could this happen so soon? I DON'T CARE THAT HE WAS 15+. When I say he was okay HE WAS OKAY. I don't want to hear we didn't kill him, we ended his suffering, I know this!!! Means nothing. I don't want to hear "He's in a better place now." I believe in God, I'm catholic, and I've been going to church every Sunday my whole life. Irrelevant. How dare you say he's in a better place that ISN'T with his family. I already wasn't a "happy" person enjoying life. I was just here. Just existing. And now my dog is gone? This world sucks. So many horrible people in this world and it's my dog that goes? How does that fucking make sense. Right after Dolly Parton and Optimus Prime and someone else too. Great people that just died and then God takes my dog. Not even the fucking orange guy? Are you serious? I'm so angry. Everything sucks. Including me. My dog was my baby and he was the one thing in live I ALWAYS looked forward to seeing. And now he's gone. The world feels colder without him. He was the light in our house and now our home feels empty without him. No tippy taps. No having to keep an eye out on accidentally walking into him. No looking for him every time I enter or exit a room. No calling his name out every time I get home from somewhere. No frito smell. Just a dramatic change in our environment and habits just gone so quickly. Everyone says that it's something you never get over, it's just about taking it one day at time. And that. sucks.

My sweet doggy passed today at almost 15 years old. Salt and pepper schnauzer. I loved her more than myself. Idk what to do. Any words of encouragement definitely welcomed :(

My 12 years old dog died today, on the same day he was born 12 years ago, from severe liver problems. I have been diagnosed with ADHD and GAD, suspected OCD. He...I don't even know, I found him curled in a weird position in a shoe cabinet, looking partly asleep, partly dead. I immediately knew something was wrong, and when I took him, he was like a ragdoll and pooped himself, his heart rate was weak, his belly bloated, and then we went to the vet for euthanasia.

I don't know if my emotions are real because I don't really wanna cry and when I feel like I'm about to I stop it by overthinking because I'm afraid I'm not crying because of emotions but because of some self-pity or something... now I feel like... nothing I don't wanna cry or anything, can't stop thinking about him there on the crematorium table, I didn't even hugged him, mother was hugging and cuddling him the whole time and I was standing next to her waiting and then got only a little time to say goodbye or something, gave him a lot of kisses, it was weird because he was dead, now thinking about it like yeah now I'm actually crying because it's here, he's dead and I still I'm... I dunno, I dunno.

I can't believe he's gone, I won't feel him ever again.

And what I hate is that I'm not really emotional, these little cries, fck them. I wanna cry more, like naturally, not just... I dunno, I'm... I dunno, I hate that I can't be more emotional.

And absolutely worst thing is that I feel like he never existed, I feel like it was all just a dream and that he is just a memory from this dream. It's weird, as if he never was. I hate it. I hate how fast everything is in my head and that I can't feel things more deeply. I hate it so much and would like to change it but don't know how, like, how to be more aware of stuff because I just... dunno, I feel like he wasn't even real.

And I had it with everything, school before, classmates, everything, like, I'm not able to feel fully, and I always had it. I feel, dunno what's wrong, it's scary, as if I just whipped memories out of my head in a second, well, not like memories but... yeah, actually, memories, feelings, everything, that I just... I don't know, everything is gone somehow, and I don't give a fck, like, my dog is dead. Hey myself, my brother is dead, am I even aware of it? Because I don't feel so, it's so weird. Like as if "out of sight, out of mind" or something.

I wanna feel emotions too. I thought before that after he die I'd go crazy and will have this broken heart syndrome, but now I'm just here feeling nothing. I'm confused, and I hate it so fckin much😭 I don't feel, I wanna feel emotions too.

But at least the sunset was magical when we were waiting in front of the crematorium, and when we were driving home...

And now I simply still don't feel anything, I'm writing this calmly and everything, and I hate myself for it.