Last night, we lost our 13 year old yellow lab, Butler.
We got him a year after we got married, and we've loved him so much.
I knew the time was coming sooner than later, and I tried to prepare myself, but I honestly didn't expect it to happen the way it did.
We'd just picked him up from his stay at the pet resort where he'd been over Thanksgiving. He'd been home for about three hours when he started acting very strange. Steve and I debated whether we should take him to the emergency vet, just in case, and finally decided we should. It turned out he had a twisted stomach, something the vet said was common in breeds like his. He'd have to have surgery immediately. They took him back and we waited for two hours. When we saw the vet again, she told us that he hadn't even made it into surgery. His poor heart hadn't been strong enough to handle the surgery prep.
There are a lot of people who will not understand why we are so upset. They will think: he's just a dog.
He was never just a dog to me. He never will be. I loved him more than I can explain. It hurts.
That is all I will say about that.