This year in July I had to have my dog, my best friend, my soulmate put to sleep. He was 10 years old. To me it still feels unreal. Even posting in this folder, it seems strange and wrong.

Vic had many problems. There were a few times when I thought his time had come or would soon come. He had auto immune disease which caused issues with digestion and his joints, had a few tumors cut out but somehow life went on, and boy, he still enjoyed it. With a great diet and good care he still lived life to the fullest. How he loved his squeaky toy !!! It was his baby. He loved nothing more but to go outside with me if I had yardwork to do, so he could get his squeaky and carry it around, watching me, and squeaking it every so often.

His stomach flipped. There was no indication at all until it was to late. He always walked slow and with his back slightly roached. We rushed him to the Vet, once it became clear something was terribly wrong. I laid in the back of the Suburban with him and he was suddenly so calm, we both looked out the window at the night sky. I got hopeful again. By the time we got to the emergency clinic, he couldn't get up anymore, and my heart sank.

The vet said with all his other problems, he wouldn't stand a chance. It would be cruel and he most likely wouldn't even make it until the surgeon arrived, much less make it through surgery. He was fading fast, not even looking up anymore when he was wheeled away to get xrayed.

I knew I had no choice. But still, it kills me to know that "I" gave the final go ahead. They say its the final kindness, but to me it felt like I gave the go ahead to kill him.

I always thought I'd be strong. For my dog. Not cry and carry on, scaring him. I would be strong. But I was not. I broke down completely. It was all I could do to hold his face in the end, I couldn't say a word for literally choking on my tears.
It took the vet several tries to even get a vein, she apologized and kept trying, there was almost no more bloodpressure at this point.

Then I watched his eyes grow dark. It tore me up to leave him there, laying like that. It felt so wrong.

We aren't allowed to bury animals in the yard, I didn't want him cremated either, as I didn't trust to get the "right" ashes. I couldn't think straight that night. I went home and sat in the dark yard all night. I saw his squeaky laying there, and I got so upset I threw it in the trash can. Later on I couldn't bear that, and went to dig it back out of the trash.

Next day I panicked, went back and picked him up after all. He is buried in our yard now. I buried him next to the palm tree, where he liked to lay. I put his squeaky toy with him, his leash and collar.

It still feels raw and wrong. People said to me "you gave him the final kindness", "you did right", "he had a great life". I've said those words to others many times. But I never realized how little they mean at this time. how empty they are.

Rest in peace, Vic. You were my soulmate, my daughters protector and simply, the best dog ever. I sure wish we would have had more time together.

Where he stands in the last 2 pictures is where he is buried.

Thanks for letting me share.