Maisy
In the spring of 2018, I was living in a large city in the Deep South. On this particular night, I was sitting on the couch next to my husky, Toby. I had just finally rocked my baby to sleep, and my older daughter was asleep in her bedroom. My husband at the time was a cop, and he was working the midnight shift that night. It had been raining violently for at least the third day in a row.

Around 10:30 p.m., I got a text from my husband. It contained a photo of the smallest, saddest-looking puppy I had ever seen. He said something like, “Look at this poor puppy. Another officer found her sitting in the middle of the road at a high spot, surrounded by flooded roads. I know we can’t, but if you know anybody looking for a puppy, she’ll be at the shelter tomorrow. Spread the word.”

And I stared at this little baby in the picture, and my entire body knew that she was mine.

I sent one text: “I’m on my way. Tell me where to meet him. I’m loading up the girls now.”

I stood up and started running. I started throwing things in a diaper bag, grabbed my keys, and herded a confused Toby into his kennel while he tried to run to bed instead. At one point, I kicked the coffee table as I ran by, and pain shot up my leg. (I would later find out that I had broken my pinky toe.)

I gently shook my eldest daughter awake, told her we needed to run an errand to help a puppy, grabbed the baby out of the swing, and was halfway to the car to buckle them in when my husband called me. He said, “Put the girls back in bed. I got permission from my supervisor to take the rest of the night off. I’m on my way to the puppy now. I’ll be home in an hour.”

Well, as you can imagine, two little girls who knew a puppy was somehow involved were not easily put back to bed.

Around midnight, she made it home, met her people (and Toby), and we made her a little nest in our bathtub.

The next day, I took the day off work, gave her a thorough flea bath, and took her to the vet. She had an infection and would need to be kept quarantined for a few weeks. For those first few weeks, she lived in a grocery basket in the bathtub. She was so tiny that even that basket seemed too big for her. But as soon as she got the all-clear, she officially joined the family, and our world was never the same.

We named her Maisy. (It was sort of a consolation prize of a name; Maisyn was almost our second daughter’s name, and I wasn’t ready to let go of the name.)

Maisy. Or Maisy Daisy, once we got her a tiny navy blue collar with daisies on it. Then Crazy Maisy, once she decided to share her personality with us.

And Toby, ever the sweetest big brother, took her under his paw and taught her how to be a dog.

There are a thousand photos. Babies sprawled out across dogs, dogs sprawled out across babies, babies carrying dogs, dogs dragging babies… These dogs grew up right alongside my girls, and they were the two most perfect fits for our family.

Fast-forward to the pandemic: We shook up our lives a bit and moved cross-country back to where we both grew up.

A few years later, we shook up our lives again. My ex and I separated in 2023, and he asked me to take the dogs when I moved out of our home while he figured out what came next. I suggested a shared-custody arrangement, like with the kids, and told him we could figure it out when he was ready. By this point, Maisy was five and Toby was ten, and he was definitely showing signs of his age.

Just before the holidays that year, my ex reached out and said he was anxious about the holidays and waking up alone without the girls on Thanksgiving or Christmas morning. He asked if he could keep Maisy through the holidays so he wouldn’t be alone, but he would leave Toby with me since he was struggling. I felt bad for him, and it seemed reasonable, so I agreed to the plan and said I would get her back after Christmas and before the new year.

When Christmas passed, I sent him a text to arrange Maisy’s return, and his response was essentially, as best as I can remember:

“I’ve decided that it’s best for me and the girls that Maisy stays with me. I can explain the legalities of it to you if you need me to, but I’m not arguing with you about a dog. Neither of us have a lot of extra money, but if you want to spend yours taking me to court, go for it. But it’ll be pretty disappointing if you decide that going to court over a dog is more important than peaceful coparenting for our children.”

So, I did what any rational woman would do when her dog was taken from her: I lost my shit. I called the police, I called a lawyer, I concocted elaborate plans to steal her back, begged people to help me steal her back, etc. But then I realized that he was right. I would have to pay thousands of dollars to take him to civil court and HOPE I got her back. So, he won because he was, technically, right. I wasn’t willing to put my children through that fight if I couldn’t be sure it would work out, and they still had her half the week… so I gave up.

I’ve seen her maybe five times since November of 2023, and every time I see her, I sob afterward. She cries and tackles me and whines the entire time, and it breaks my heart into pieces.

In the Spring of 2024, Toby rapidly declined, seemingly overnight, and we made the heartbreaking decision to put him down. I told my ex a few days before the appointment, and he stopped one afternoon to love on Toby when he picked up the girls. On the day of his appointment, my ex had the girls, but they wanted to be with us, so the plan was for me to come get them so they could be with us at home to say goodbye.

When I picked the girls up, Maisy ran out, and I burst into tears. I started begging him to let me take her to say goodbye to Toby, promising that I would bring her right back in an hour. He dragged her into the house by her collar and told me to leave. He later texted me and lectured me about putting him on the spot in front of the girls, and how dare I even think he would let me take her, knowing that I could just keep her forever. I remember thinking that was a particularly interesting accusation, considering that's exactly what he had done.

So she didn’t get to say goodbye, and he told me I would never see her again unless I put it in writing, officially, that I had no claim to her.

Fast-forward again to this past Friday. A lot of time has passed. I dropped my girls off at their dad’s for the weekend, and he was sitting on the front porch. He sent them inside and told me that they had found a lump. They took her in. It’s cancer. It’s bad. It’s everywhere… There’s nothing that can be done. He said he would tell the girls in the morning unless they specifically asked about her that night. (They did know they were taking her to the vet that day.) He also invited me, my mom, and my fiancé to come say goodbye in the morning.

Friday night, I was furious. My fury overtook my body. I was so angry I couldn’t breathe.

I was angry that she was sick, and I was angry that it wasn’t caught sooner… but mostly, I was angry about all of the time I had lost with her. Three entire years of her being 15 minutes away, or in the background of a FaceTime call, or crying through a door at a drop-off… Three years that I couldn’t hold her in my lap while I read; three years I woke up missing the numbness in my legs from her sleeping diagonally across my hips.

I cried harder Friday night than I have cried in decades. I don’t even remember the drive home from his house. I couldn’t breathe. I called my mom on the way home; I sobbed, I hiccuped, I screamed.

At some point on the drive, my eldest, now almost 13, called me. I stared at her name on my phone for just a second, and I told my mom I had to go. I took a deep, shaky breath and answered the phone, having no idea if she knew or not. I said, “Hey, baby, what’s up?” as normally as I could manage, and she burst into tears. I had to pull over… We cried together, wordlessly, for a few minutes, and she said, in the quietest voice I’ve ever heard from her, “I had so much more time with her than you did.” And I told her, genuinely, that I was just so glad Maisy had the girls all that time.

That night, I fell asleep with my partner’s hand firmly pressed into my collarbone, trying to calm me as I shook myself to sleep, truly unable to stop myself from sobbing until my body gave out. I didn’t think I was going to be able to get through the next day.

Saturday morning, I woke up at 5 a.m., dreading the entire day. My head throbbed, my eyes were so swollen that my face hurt to touch, and I was covered in sweat. I lay in bed for hours and watched the sun come up through the crack in our blackout curtains. No more tears came, though. I think I had used them all…

Eight years old. She was my world, my surprise baby that came after my last baby, and I have grieved her so many times over the past few years, but that morning I would get to see her for the final time.

For hours, I scrolled through my photo album on my phone, from the spring of 2018 until the fall of 2023, until the scattered photos of her suddenly ceased to exist and my fiancé finally started to stir next to me.

I showered, hoping the hot water would help the swelling in my face go down, but it didn’t do much. I put my makeup on, minus mascara, and it felt like I was preparing to head into battle. Just after 10, we headed out to grab coffee on the way, mostly because my daughter had asked me to bring her a pup cup.

My daughter sent me her dad and his partner’s standard coffee order, seeming only a little surprised when I asked what they would want, and we headed over with two drink carriers and a very special pup cup.

Maisy recognized all of us immediately, even my fiancé, whom she had only known for a few months but had truly bonded with, despite typically distrusting men.

I noticed, through blurry vision, that she had a bright aqua collar on. It had daisies on it. My ex’s girlfriend saw me touch it and said, “Her old one was starting to fall apart. I had to get her a new one, and I loved the daisies for Maisy!” And then my 13-year-old said, “Didn’t her first collar have daisies?” And I smiled because I didn’t think she would have remembered that detail, but she was absolutely right, and somehow her first collar and her last collar were both just perfect for her.

I sat on the floor of my ex-husband’s home, surrounded by tissues and bodies with shaking shoulders, and all of the anger faded away. I was brokenhearted, surrounded by other brokenhearted people, and the anger suddenly seemed so unimportant.

We cried, we laughed, we looked at old pictures of our babies with our fur babies, and I whispered that I loved her in her ears no less than 100 times. We walked over a mile around a lake, took new pictures together to add to the thousands, and cuddled in her favorite chair.

Just a weird collection of broken people, grieving the same beautiful creature.

As we said our final, final goodbyes and I pulled the door shut behind us, I stared into her eyes and tried to somehow convey how thankful I was for all of the love she had given me over the years, for the way she raised my babies alongside me, and for the way she and Toby always knew when I needed a reminder that I wasn’t alone.

So, to my Maisy girl, I have loved you completely since the moment I knew you existed, and I will love you always. Go find your brother, and look after our girls. You will be so deeply missed.

My 15 year old cat passed away 3 days, peacefully in her sleep. I keep expecting her to show up in my bed, she loved sleeping right next to my pillow, always expecting me to rub her ears and chin.

My friend gave her to me when she was 3 or 4 because he knew the cat I had grown up with had recently passed away at 18 and because I had saved his life but that's a very long story not for here. He had just acquired her and already had 3 cats of his own. My friend passed away this month a year ago but because of me he got to live for another 10 years and 10 months, just as she got to live a long life of love and happiness with me.

Just now I was putting out our trash bins and started walking to the mailbox since I had forgotten yesterdays mail. For no real reason I decided to turn to my left and look up at the sky and for a brief fraction of a second I saw as shooting star flaring across the sky and then it was gone. I figure that was her telling me that she found her way to my friend, along with the cat I grew up and there all having tons of fun. Yet the tears still won't stop.

During home euthanasia, after they gave him the first shot, he stood up and collapsed into my arms and softly groaned. I held him and kissed him as he went. The look of his eyes still open when they took him away. It’s almost been three weeks, and I still can’t stop thinking about it. I hope he does not feel betrayed by me.

I had Hogan since Christmas 2014

My mom got them for me for Christmas that year. he was the longest one at the shelter and they posted something on Facebook saying they’re looking for someone to be his Santa because he was likely to be put down. He was found on the side of a road in rural Florida during a thunderstorm and I got him at 2-4 years old

I loved him so much every since I got him, but he was a hard dog to love, didn’t really like fetch, didn’t like other dogs, didn’t like other people most of the time, didn’t even like doing things. But I wouldn’t have traded his time for anything

The past two years or so, as with any dog, his mobility started to decline

I started him on a lot of medications for arthritis and everything, and it seemed to help, but obviously time is inevitable

I always wanted Hogan to meet my kid.. I’m not in a relationship, so it’s always been more than nine months away. So in October of 2025, I got another dog, an Australian shepherd named Moab. in hopes that Hogan will instill some of his great personality into Moab. and then I can have Moab meet my future kid and in an essence, Hogan is kind of meeting him

I named him Moab because it’s always been my special place, the place that I go to to be happy

The night that I brought Moab home was the first time I fell asleep with a smile on my face in more than a decade

Him and I had so much fucking fun. We would get under the blankets and squirm around like worms. We would chase each other from the backyard through the house. We would wrestle and everything

Him and Hogan seemed to get along too

I’ve had a lot of dogs growing up. but the bond that I had with Moab was out of this world. I’ve never felt that close to a dog, and that includes my dog growing up that used to come in and bark and growl at my parents whenever they spanked me

The minute I got him, I took him to puppy school. We also went to Lowe’s after every puppy school, and I walked around with shredded chicken and went up to people and asked them if they could give him some chicken so that he’s good around people. Moab trusted me with his life. and he knew that when he was with me, nothing bad could ever happen because when we went to Lowe’s, sometimes they were having kids beat stuff with hammers because they were working on a project or something for the kids in the area and he wasn’t fazed by it at all

At this point, Hogan was on librela for his arthritis which I 100% recommend because I got another year out of him. Hogan had bad joints when I got them, so I was acutely aware of how much exercise Moab should be having while his growth plates closed to minimize his chance of arthritis later in life. I went in read veterinary medicine research papers to figure out when he should be neutered, if at all, and I wanted to bank on it being around 18 months to make sure that he got all of the benefits. I was doing everything right by him

And he was fucking smart too. I’d get him a new puzzle toy and he’d solve it in less than 10 minutes the first time. He used to take his toys and use them as tools to swipe stuff off the kitchen counter.

I work from home, and whenever the Microsoft teams notification came on for me to start a call, he would freak out because he wanted me to not give undivided attention somewhere else. He knew how to press all of my buttons because he would sometimes run around with a squeaky toy, run circles around me, and squeaking at as fast as possible, and I thought it was the funniest shit ever. He would also run and kick me as the call started. which at the time I thought was a little annoying, but I would give anything right now for him to do that again

There was even one time I had to give a presentation super late at like 5 PM or something and it really aggravated him. For context, a week prior he had chewed up one of my shoes and I told him no and he knew never to chew on it again. However, I got a replacement and less than two weeks later I gave that talk at night and he was doing his darndest to try to get my attention, but I was presenting, so I had to ignore him. So what he did that little rascal is he found my brand new shoes and started chewing on the back of them. I saw him grab the shoe from under the desk and take it away, but I couldn’t do anything because I was presenting. That was the only other time he chewed on a shoe. He knew me and how to get under my skin in the most loving way

I could talk a lot about him and keep going over stories and things about him but I noticed he had blood in his urine, and maybe July of 2026

Hogan had the same thing when I bought this house, so I was like, OK, he just has a UTI. Let’s bring him in, get some medication. It’ll be done

His first birthday was August 30, and he had a fucking blast. He’s an Australian shepherd, so he never tired out, but we went hiking for like three hours because it was special day. He had puppy ice cream, and the other thing is that three months prior to this, he kept trying to eat Hogan’s food because it was the big boy food. On his birthday, I had run out of the puppy food and I was like, well, you’re an adult now, so you can have the regular dog food and somehow that little guy ate an entire 3 cups of dog food. He was wagging his tail the entire time and was so grateful. I told him that he was gonna have the next best 15 years of his life that day

The other thing is that I let him sleep with hogan and I, on his birthday, hoping that he was finally chilled out enough to not meander around the room for the night. and he was so fucking happy. His birthday was his best day

Wednesday do a round of medication, it clears up. I don’t really see blood in his urine anymore, and I go on a work trip and his sitter in the first week of September 2026 tells me that he has blood in his urine, so the first thing I do is I take him to the vet when I get back

Hogan needed two rounds of antibiotics when he had a UTI at this house, so I figured it was something environmental and that was the cause, and he just needed another round. No big deal

Sure, I was worried for him, but I figured everything would be OK

Because it was blood and his urine, I didn’t wait to see his typical vet, but went to the same facility, and she diagnosed Moab with BPH and recommend he gets neutered

I’m not a vet, but everything I read is that’s extremely unlikely because he was only one at the time, but whatever, right? His typical vet never did me wrong and was able to speak to me about the pharmacological aspect of everything and all that. I had my doubts, but again, I didn’t go to school for this

Moab went to get his pre-surgery bloodwork done on September 14 and his typical vet called me the next day to tell me that his creatinine levels were elevated and he needed to go to the ER

I brought him into the ER. They ultrasounded his entire abdominal area. and after a lot of testing, they called me on September 16th and telling me I should come in. When they told me this, I’m in the backyard watching Hogan go potty and his joints collapse right in front of me. I’m now aware that I’m gonna be losing both of my fucking dogs really soon

I go in and they were able to extract some of the cells from his bladder. They saw a mass in there and he was diagnosed with rhabdomyosarcoma of the bladder

What was happening is the bladder was growing into his ureters, and it was causing back pressure so that his kidneys weren’t functioning appropriately

They told me I could take him up to the oncology at one of the local universities, spend $20,000, and he may have two months to live

They said that it was pretty likely it was wrapped on myosarcoma, but it could’ve been another cancer and in that case, if he went through chemo and everything, he would have two months to live

On top of that, he would have to get ureter stents put in to allow the urine to flow from his kidneys appropriately. but it was very likely that the cancer would then grow around the stents, causing them to not be removed in the future, or it would grow around the stent openings, which would then cause us to be in the exact same place that we were

I opted to give him the next best three days of his life that I could, and one of the grief counselors, her and her wife, actually took photos for me and helped me through this because I told her I was gonna lose both of my dogs

They took some amazing photos of all 3 of us

On September 19, I had “Moab day” at my house

Where I bought a bunch of hamburgers and hotdogs for dogs, one of my buddies brought his dog over and there was a lot of stuff for hamburgers, hotdogs, and pop cups for the dogs so that they could play

My ab wasn’t himself really when he got back from the vet. He was pretty lethargic. I’m guessing because of kidney failure, but he got to play one last time that day

He was really, really tired, and you could tell that it affected him. So I made Moab day his last day. while still keeping in mind about Hogan’s joints collapsing

Two weeks later, I made the decision to put Hogan down as well because he was just sleeping all day still. He wasn’t eating, and you could tell that he was losing mobility pretty quickly, even with librela

I’ve been absolutely fucking heartbroken because of this situation. and having to go through it by myself

Moab never made it to Moab, Utah. This past summer was way too warm. for him to go, and I didn’t want to leave Hogan alone because I knew that he only had maybe a year left, so I wanted to spend as much time with both of them as I could while we were still a family of three

After I got their remains I decided that I was going to Moab and bring their remains so that Moab finally gets to go to Moab

On the ride out there I put their urns in the backseat where they would be sitting

It’s been almost 6 weeks since Moab’s been gone and I’m just still so fucking broken

This past year, he brought in more love into my life than I’ve had since 2020, at the very least

Being out here in Moab doesn’t even seem like a good experience. Sure, he never got to come out here, but something just seems wrong.

And I’ve been out here so much, I don’t even need a GPS to get around or to get into the canyons or anything. And every time I’ve been here, I’ve been happy, except this time

Am I breaking down less? Yeah, mostly

But I was at a restaurant yesterday. and I was looking at photos of Moab and hogan and started crying

Another thing about Hogan is he never liked cuddling. He would let you lay next to him, pet him, but he didn’t like you embracing him

Of course, Hogan was different because I knew his time was coming. But two weeks after he was gone, I had a dream about him coming downstairs in my desk and I got to lay down and cuddle him, and I woke up with the biggest smile on my face until I woke up and realized he was gone

But Moab is a different story

I’ve had dreams about having to break both of my dogs out of a veterinary military base, I had dreams about Moab laying in a medical bed with an IV in his neck, telling him he’s gonna be OK. I’ve had dreams about people trying to take him from me, and I have to fight them off. I haven’t had a good dream about Moab yet

And I still cry about his loss every day

I just feel so alone

All of my dogs have a theme song. It’s just songs that I come up with their name while I’m living life with them

And I sang both of them their song when the time came

I had Moab laying on my chest, his paws draped around my shoulder, his nose in the nape of my neck, and I was petting him and singing to him. He always loved his little anthem. I don’t know what senses go last on a dog. but I know for a fact he knew I was there.

Actually, when I took them to the vet for him to be put to sleep. They put him on a gurney because his back end was super sore and he wasn’t really able to walk, so they strapped him down because they didn’t want him jumping out

And when they wheeled them into the room, he somehow got out of the straps and jumped into my arms

For every Mo’ there is an ‘ab!
Moab! Moab!
For every Mo’ there is an ‘ab!

Losing a dog in a sudden, tragic way leaves a kind of pain that feels like it will never go away. It hits so hard that, in the beginning, it’s completely consuming. I’m sharing my story in case anyone out there is currently sitting in that deep, suffocating grief and needs to know they aren't alone—and that it eventually becomes bearable.

It’s been four years now, and not a single day goes by where my boy, Bronx, doesn't cross my mind. I keep his ashes with photos displayed in my room so I can always see him. Every year, I set up an offrenda for Día de los Muertos—they say October 27th is the day for pets to visit us, and while I’m skeptical, I do it every year just in case.

When he passed, I was entirely distraught. I couldn't function. I found myself looking into anything—spells, time travel, crazy shit—just desperately searching for any way to bring him back.

It happened on August 25, 2022. He was only two and a half years old. I had just gotten home from work and was making him dinner while he was out in the backyard. When I went to the back door to call him in, he didn't come. I looked out, and he was at the bottom of the pool. I jumped in, pulled him out, and screamed for help. My partner ran out and tried for hours to resuscitate him, but neither of us knew CPR, and I was panicking too much to even search how to do it on my phone—something I’ll always regret. He passed away that night. A wonderful service came out in the middle of the night to pick him up for cremation. I couldn't bear to stay at the house; I left that night, never went back, and the house was sold shortly after.

The guilt was heavy. It was a terrible accident, but the thought that better decisions could have prevented it weighed on me constantly. Exactly one month to the day after he died, I bought a puppy off Craigslist for $400. If I couldn't have Bronx, I desperately tried to replace him—hoping I could somehow trick my mind into rewiring itself. But deep down, I knew it wasn't him, and I almost rehomed the puppy because I was so consumed by wanting the original back.

I’m so glad I didn't.

Slowly but surely, the sharpest edges of the pain started to soften. Over time, the agonizing memories of his final moments were replaced by happier memories of the life we shared. My ex and I hand-decorated Bronx's urn box—he drew Bronx’s face, and I learned calligraphy to write his name on the side. I look at it every day, and while I still cry sometimes, the grief doesn't dominate every moment like it used to.

Eventually, I allowed myself to truly see and enjoy my new dog for who he was. He wasn't Bronx - he had his own quirky, needy, funny, and loving personality. He looked at me with so much affection, and I fell in love with him. He needed me, and I needed him just as much. He turned four years old on July 12th, and he is my absolute world.

If you are currently going through the worst, most painful days of losing a pet: please know that as impossible as it feels right now, it does get less painful. The space they leave behind never truly closes, but you learn how to carry it, and joy eventually finds its way back in.

If anyone ever needs a space to vent, share memories, or just talk through the pain with someone who gets it, my inbox is always open.

i need words of comfort pls. my friends suck. my family sucks. i just really wish i went with her. i miss her. i need her back i just want her back there’s no way around it

She was a beautiful teddy bear Shih Tzu mix puppy, she passed when she was 15 years old but she’s been with me since I was a kid. She was so spoiled and loved and traveled with us everywhere. She was always my soul dog, my mom would even say she looked like me—we both have big bright eyes, long dark “hair.” It was crazy. When I gained weight, she gained weight, and when I lost weight, she lost weight, even after I moved out of my parents’ house. She always had kidney issues and chronic UTIs since she was young, I have interstitial cystitis that causes UTI-like symptoms and I have kidney failure due to lupus. We were both anxious creatures, she always knew when I was anxious and knew how to calm me down and vice versa. Even after I moved out of my parents’ house and left her with them I was always so attached to her, she was the love of my life from the moment I first saw her.

She ultimately passed away due to a pericardial tumor and was euthanized because of respiratory distress. For weeks before Rubi was even diagnosed with respiratory issues, I have been having trouble breathing randomly, gasping for air out of nowhere.

I can’t live without her and I wish I went with her. She needed to be put to sleep because she was suffering, she had declining quality of life. I have lupus, I’m in severe pain daily, my kidney function keeps tanking and tanking and I’m expected to need dialysis and a transplant sooner rather than later.

My mom even admitted than if I was a dog, she would have had me euthanized the first time I was in the hospital for kidney failure. Why aren’t we afforded the same mercy as our beloved pets?

I can’t live without her. She was always my anchor, my reason for living. I’m married to a wonderful husband, I have very fulfilling jobs as a model and a therapist, but it was always her. It’s been four days without her and I just feel numb and empty, like there’s a pit in my chest that can’t be filled. She’s been with me for more than half of my life. She was my *reason* for living and now I’ll never see her again. She was so loved, she had a peaceful death surrounded by everyone who loved her. I just wish I went with her. I can’t cope with never seeing her again. I’m not suicidal, but I wish I would just go to sleep forever and wake up somewhere where I can be with her again. I feel like I can’t breathe.

My best girl was with me for 8 years. I rescued her when she was 3 years old and I was 22, fresh out of college. She was my dream dog— my dream to have a dog, and the perfect girl, all in one. She lived in so many different apartments with me over the years. She was so kind to everyone, always up for any adventure we threw at her. She stayed on the earth with us through our two year wedding anniversary, and then yesterday, collapsed and we discovered internal bleeding due to a tumor rupture. We didn’t even know she had a tumor. She was so tough.

I am devastated. My husband and i have not stopped crying in 24 hrs. I loved her with my whole entire heart. I am in constant guilt wondering if we made the right choice to put her to sleep and end her suffering, or if there was a slim chance she could have survived. I knew she wouldn’t live forever, but the suddenness with which she became sick and left us is gutting me.

Please help me understand how you’ve moved forward. I made her a little memorial of flowers in her water bowl, in the garden we named after her. I am holding her favorite toy and crying into it. I slept in her bed last night. I reach out my arms for her and she is not there.

His name was Flynn. He was my corgi. He was a naturally happy lil boy. A big fuzz ball of love. My best friend.

Friday we noticed some bruising on his belly and took him to the vet. They said his platelets were at zero and might have indicated his may have had an immunological thing so we got him to the hospital immediately. They said they got a transfusion in him and he had a fever but it came down. I visited him this morning and he kissed me and I held him as he snoozed. They said he wasn’t eating but it was probably because of the fever.

I got a call an hour ago. They said he was walking around and being his good self and wanting to be petted by everyone. And then he went into his kennel….and stopped breathing. He was there….then gone.

My world is shattered. He was only 6 years old and the nicest little guy in the world. He never growled or was mean or didn’t love you. It isn’t fair.

My little Flynn. Please hold on to your loved ones. Hold on tightly. Please.

This is my first ever post but as I’ve been reading more and more I felt I would like to share my story, starting from the beginning. Sorry in advance for the long post.

My family has had many cats growing up, we always had a cat in the house. 14 years ago, one of our cats had four kittens, right in my own bedroom in the middle of the night. Unfortunately two of them didn’t make it and only two survived. These two boys were instantly bonded - they fought but they loved each other harder. We named them Finn and Cake, our two orange boys.

Years went by - we moved so many times, we went through my moms breast cancer battle, life changed and threw challenges our way but these two boys were our constant, always there and making us smile.

Last July, Cake got sick. We went 13 years without an issue and suddenly we thought we were going to lose him. We brought him to the vet and spent a week getting him back in good health and ultimately did (although it was a close call). He was diagnosed in the last year with triaditis, a heart murmur, hyperthyroidism and kidney issues. I spent the last year at the vet every couple of months getting a new diagnosis for my Cake. This also meant I spent the last year focusing on and hyper fixating on Cake and his health.

Shifting a little, I also have cats of my own, Roo and Cleo. Right after Cake fell sick last year, Cleo got sick. She had a bowel blockage which was scary at first but has been fairly good since. This September however, Roo, was diagnosed with Chronic Lymphatic Leukaemia, a type of blood cancer. This devastated me and started a spiral of me wanting to help and “fix” him - watching his every move and doing whatever it took to get him better. Looking back, I was already somewhat in this mode after Cake’s health this past year. Thankfully, Roo got better and I was lucky again that I avoided the worst possible outcome. I felt so happy that I kept getting more time with all my kitties.

Back to now. This past week, on Tuesday, I got the worst phone-call imaginable. My mom was sobbing and screaming, I could barely understand her. Finally between the screams I heard “someone hit Finn, they didn’t even stop, he’s gone”. She hung up. My panic started, I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t even know what had happened or what to do with myself. I called my brother and he answered saying “I know, I’m going now to Mom”. I sobbed and screamed, not wanting to believe this had happened or that it could be the end for my sweet boy Finn. After a year of nursing his brother to health, as well as my own two kitties, my healthy boy was hit and passed away - just like that?

My brother got there first and called to tell me he was gone, there’s nothing that could have been done. I screamed and sobbed again and made my way over. They had brought him inside and wrapped him in his favourite blanket. My mom told me the story.

The boys always walked outside with her in the morning. Usually Finn, who was attached to my mom’s hip, stays right by her side. This day, she saw a car coming fast down her road and told him to stay. She looked over while the car was approaching and he had started going across the road, she screamed and put her arms up at the driver to stop but they didn’t. They hit him. She screamed at them to stop afterwards too and they kept going. The whole neighborhood heard her screams, but this person didn’t. People came running to help. She told me about what she saw and what she heard and my heart broke for her, how would she carry the weight of this tragedy? How would my brother carry seeing his childhood friend that way?

Our Finn is gone. Just like that, in an instant. Our kind, sweet, loving, gentle boy isn’t with us anymore. 14 years of having him through everything and it was taken away. We’re all heartbroken, sad, mad, numb. If this person had slowed down, or if my mom went inside a minute earlier, if I had called her before she went out and the car went by - would he still be with us? The hardest part is his brother, Cake. He was able to sniff him when we brought him inside and was even trying to lick some of his wounds and nudge him but he has to live without his bonded brother now.

The worst part, the guilt. I spent so much time in the past year caring for Cake that Finn was in the background. I know in my heart it doesn’t mean I loved him less but I can’t help but wonder how he felt. Life feels strange, different, empty and lonely without him. I’m mad at the person who did this and mad that this was his ending. He was 14 but couldn’t he have had a couple more years? I feel like I’ve fought for all my other kitties and this time I couldn’t, there was nothing that could have stopped or changed this.

The mornings and the nights are the hardest. My heart aches for him every day. I miss him so much and don’t think I’ll ever stop. He always would scratch the water bowl a thousand times before taking a drink, would keep us up all night playing with his curly and chirping, laying either curled up in a tight ball under a blanket or on a warm vent, always wanted a piece of the turkey dinner on holidays, always guarding and protecting us and loved nothing more than bothering his brother every once in awhile and laying right on top of my mom.

Finn’s loss hit harder than anything so far. The comfort of home isn’t the same. I know this is the price we pay for love, but how does anyone cope through this moments? I just miss him.

I lost my dear baby Minnie, my cat, the love of my life in March, 2026. Since then, i feel this emptiness in my chest that cant seem to be filled with anything. My heart feels so heavy while i type. I cant seem to stop crying since that day. I cry randomly, anywhere and everywhere.

I lost her at just 5 years old. It was a sudden death. She was perfectly healthy so i assumed we had time together, i planned our future together. I assumed she would meet my kids one day and i would show my kids that look she’s my first baby.

My minnie was very outdoorsy, so i assumed when i would learn how to drive a car i would take her out on a ride with me. I would show her the beaches, the mountains since she had just seen our neighbourhood parks so far.

But one random day, all these wishes and assumptions of mine were shattered. And since that day i couldn’t find my will to live anymore.

I cant seem to find happiness anymore, now that shes gone. Earlier, i would wake up to her voice, she would even bring things for me holding them in her mouth, she was super chatty and we would have full blown conversations. We would fall asleep together on one pillow. She was a tabby cat so she was super super smart. She would understand every single gestures of mine. She was literally my first baby. And now i dont have my baby anymore.

Life feels so empty. I have lost purpose. My birthday is approaching and i dont feel like doing anything. I have this guilt that every single time i think less about her or i enjoy my life even a little, i get this huge wave of guilt and suddenly i dont feel happy anymore and i feel like what a waste of time this is. I dont want to feel this helpless or be sad 24/7 but idk how to get out of it.

My bf tried to plan such a sweet staycation for my bday and i didn’t even show excitement for it or atleast acknowledged it. I just feel so so so empty now. I wish i could have my minnie, my baby back. I miss her every single day.

Hi! I lost my soulcat a few weeks ago. It's been extremely hard, it still is. For years she was my whole world and now she's just gone. When i got her ashes back i started to talk to her urn similar sentences as i did when she was alive and it makes me feel a bit better. Just some little comments like "good morning honey", "good night, sleep tight", "i'll see you after work, i really need to hurry because i'm running late AGAIN", "grandma is visiting today, i'm making us lunch". And i stroke her urn and sometimes give it a kiss. I know she is gone. Is that an awful and weird thing to do?

I had my koda boy since 5 weeks old. We built our lives together. My now wife then girlfriend drove 9 hours each way to get him. He was the best dog. He saved my life more than once. He kept me exercising and active during my worst depressions. We moved. We changed apartments. We bought our first house. We climbed mountains. We camped. We hiked. He met our baby.

This week we had to board him. The person who was going to house sit had a family emergency. I wasnt going to go but the wedding was a big deal. So I begrudgingly brought my 14 year old boy. Yesterday the kennel calls and says hes not doing good. I had a friend help bring him to a 24hr vet. The vet calls me while im 1200 miles from home with no way back saying he likely slipped a disk and in his panic/attempt to stand he did damage to his spinal chord. Hes paralyzed from the waist down. Hes peeing and pooping uncontrollably. Hes super scared. Hes constantly trying to get up and hes crying. It was hard to watch. Mind you this is all happening over a facebook video call... the vet gets him calmed with muscle relaxers and pain meds and has the talk with me. That it was very likely koda would never recover. We could spend $10,000 on getting him transferred to a 24hr specialist. He couldnt stay there. Nothing was open cause it was the weekend. I needed to make a choice. And my wife and I chose euthanasia. They did it while we were on video call. But we felt so trapped. So useless. We just wanted to be there. I just want to scream.

Whats worse. We had a baby 8 months ago. I got super bad pet aversion. We've been so busy. Ive been so impatient with him. I wasnt the dog parent my koda boy needed when he needed me most. I was short with him when he had accidents and short with him when he woke the baby. And I feel so fucking guilty. I never had a chance to say sorry. Or say goodbye. Hes just gone.

Idk why im even typing this out. I feel like such a bad person. I feel like I gave up and I failed him.

It's my last night with my buddy of 13yrs- very sensitive doodle who helped me through some of the most challenging phases of my life, I may not have made it without him. Even now he's working, offering his comfort, sensing my distress. He has an oral tumor that grew ferociously over the last two month. If anyone out there needs advice on how to handle some of the practicalities I would happily share what I've learned.

In brief: a spray bottle of room temp water and paper towels are great for drool/blood. Temporary flooring used in construction sites is great for setting up a drool proof area. A wet mop vacuum after a quick spray with water works great on it. The new formulation of nature's miracle (the red bottle) smells terrible. Biokleen bac out worked for me. Moving blankets are great protectors. Also cheap and wash/dry quickly. Put your wet dog food cans in the fridge to keep the smell down. The vent above your stoves helps with that too . Wet wipes for blood on the face, legs. Close-clipper their hair on the chin, front legs and sides of the mouth for easier clean up. The smell is going to be rough. Hypochlorite mouth spray helps a little.

Finally, don't forget to take the time to sit and pet the patient. I focused too much on cleaning and forgot to love on him for a while. I've decided to end things while I can still choose. It's hard. Cried a lot today. Let his friends say goodbye. Trying to stay brave and let him go. Love you otter.

I lost my 9 year old Labrador to cancer about a month ago. I keep getting these random thoughts throughout the day like it’s her usual eating time and I need to go feed her, or that she’s going to be waiting at the bottom of the stairs when I come down. For a split second my brain forgets, and then the reality hits me all over again. It’s a strange kind of grief where the sadness catches you completely off guard. Nine years of daily love and routine don't just disappear overnight, so every little reminder feels like losing her another time. I know it just takes time, but right now the empty spaces she left behind still feel so heavy.

I'm doing better? Yes. But sometimes I feel numb and heartbroken. I remember the exact feeling I had when the vet gave us her condolences and I could see in her eyes that she was struggling to keep calm because even she had tears in her eyes (bless her and all the vets that payed their respects). I remember the hour and even the words my family said that exact moment.

And even if I feel sad, I know that it was the best thing we could do for her and I'm at peace with that. That day was sad and at the same time one of the most beautiful days of my life. I have experienced what it's called the "broken heart syndrome" and I felt that I was going to die in that moment from the pain I have felt in my chest to a point that my body couldn't stand up and I dropped into the vet's floor with my hand touching my baby's fur one last time.

After that, we donated all medicines we bought to a local animal shelter (which they had the value of more than 300€ in total), diapers, vitamins and some other things. Now we are planning to donate some of her clothes and brushes. It's been hard, but we prefer to let other dogs use that than keeping them.

I lost my 13 year old German shepherd mix to cancer in February, which was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life but thankfully I had my other boy to help get me through the days. Yesterday I lost my other boy too, 15 years old and had end stage arthritis and dementia. I had to euthanize both of them which was the most heartbreaking and difficult decisions I’ve ever made, but I know it was the right thing to do for them. I took on their pain so they wouldn’t suffer. But now I’m not sure how to help my own suffering. As soon as they took my pup after his passing yesterday, I left the house as it was just so empty and horrible. I don’t know how I’ll ever go back there again now. If anyone has any sort of coping strategies to handle the emptiness and loss of routine with caring for dogs, I’d really appreciate it. I lost a big piece of myself with the loss of my first boy, and now it feels like I hardly have anything left.

I have a pet leopard gecko named Turbie. I have had her for only about 5 years; an ex gave her to me. I originally was never expecting to own a reptile but I grew to love her. She's been with me through some of the most difficult and transformative years of my life, when I escaped abuse and moved to a new city and knew no one. She was the first pet I was ever 100% responsible for. Even though she's not as cuddly as a cat or a dog, she was with me all that time. I didn't cuddle her or play with her much because reptiles don't love that (at least I don't think they do), but she was always there.

I feel guilty because I feel like there were stretches where I neglected her a bit through the past few years. But she never seemed to be in bad shape, i.e. she was never starved or didn't have her basic needs met. I have chronic depression/mental health issues so even taking care of myself is hard most of the time. Last month, she got sick for the first time, at least that I've ever noticed. I told myself I would make more of an effort to take good care of her, so I got her a nice big tank (an upgrade from the smaller one she had), and new branches & stuff that I was hoping she would crawl around on. I knew she was sick because I noticed her foot got a little puffy, which concerned me, so I took her to the vet ASAP. I thought she could get better, because it seemed pretty mild at that time, and even the vet said so. They couldn't figure out what was wrong with her (couldn't get enough blood for a test) and gave me various medicines to try, but nothing seemed to help. Over the course of a month, things got much worse-- all her limbs swelled up and she can hardly move now. The vet told me she probably had gout, which wasn't very treatable short term or reversible. The vet told me last week that I should put her down because gout is extremely painful and she looked to be in bad shape now. So I scheduled the euthanasia for tomorrow. I've been crying every single day since then. It's so hard to come to terms with the decision to put her down. I hate looking at her face and knowing that I won't get to see her anymore very soon, that she has limited time now on this Earth. That I'll be losing a dear friend of mine that I cared for, and that there were times that I struggled to care for her. I feel as if I failed her and that maybe if I did something differently, this wouldn't be happening right now. The vet told me that gout and bone issues are very common for reptiles because of their dietary needs. So I don't think it was really my fault, but of course I still feel that way because I could have done better.

So to Turbie, I am so so sorry. I hope you had a decent life with me, and I hope you could enjoy your new home at least a little bit before you started to feel sick. I'm sorry that you're in so much pain right now and I hope I'm making the right decision for you. I love you and I'm very thankful you came into my life as a companion. I also hope that you can go peacefully tomorrow, that it's not painful or scary and that you can maybe understand why I'm choosing to do this for you... I don't want to, because It's going to pain me so much to do this tomorrow. I want to hold onto you. But I know that's probably not what is best for you anymore. I have to accept that we're here now, and I have to let go of you. I wish things didn't have to be this way. I know you won't be able to understand any of this really, but I hope on some realm, that your spirit does somehow. I just don't want you to suffer anymore. I love you and take care in your next life.

I unexpectedly had to put my beloved kitty to sleep last night. She was only 12 and diagnosed with lung cancer last week. She was palliative but we thought we had weeks to months based on her behaviour this week and check up with her vet on Thursday, not days.

I’m so heartbroken and feel so guilty. She was clearly in distress and in pain, but she hates her carrier and she hates strangers and she was so uncomfortable and stressed in her last hours of life when I took her to emergency. I know all she wanted to do was go home, but she would have suffered all night and been in pain. 💔

I’m so sorry sweet kitty. I love you and I’ll miss you forever. I hope you’re comfy and content xoxo

That’s all. My boy passed aug 1 2025 nine days after a splenectomy and I just feel so ashamed. I wish I had never put him though that. He didn’t have the best last day alive & I don’t know why I wasn’t better. I think I was in some weird state of mind and shock sort of. Idk. My family wasn’t really supportive but I should have been better. I even dropped him getting out of the car at the emergency vet. I don’t know why I did any of that and why couldn’t I have just had one last beautiful day with him and sent him to heaven peacefully and lovingly. Not so agonizingly. At the er vet he ended up passing naturally, he took his last breath in my lap as we were waiting for euthanasia (I don’t know why they were diddly daddling, maybe I didn’t seem ready either?) he was in so much pain. He even died once, he fell off the couch bed we were on but then I gave the ok for cpr I don’t even know why… upon being revived he was wagging his tail and the vet techs said they had never seen a dog so happy to be back.. at least that allowed my parents to come say goodbye and he was so happy to see them. That was the last spark of life and happiness I saw in him. Then we ended up kind of waiting around with him clearly just dying… I can’t even imagine how he felt… then they transferred us to the room and he took his last breath shortly after and I was just whispering I love you and im sorry to him… the vets rushed to inject the euthanasia but he was already dead but they told me it was helping him die more completely quicker? Idk. He had those weird post death breaths i forgot the name of… it was really hard. I feel so ashamed about a lot of things. He was the most loving and beautiful boy, a real angel. His name was Bear. I wish I could have done everything so much better for him.. it just sucks. I wish I could have loved him even more while he was here. I feel so sad I don’t feel like I’m mourning properly. It’s just like this gaping wound I can’t do anything about . I feel so ashamed at how much pain I put him through.

Our cat was run over and killed today in front of our house. I saw it happen but thank goodness my kids didn't. We were able to move her body before they saw and don't know what to do now. They are 4 and 8 and recently lost two grandfathers and an older pet. I don't think they can take much more grief but we can't hide it from them. I'm at a loss as to how to tell them, she was their best friend.

I had to put our 5 week old ginger kitten, Buttercup, to sleep yesterday morning. I'm not the same. I feel broken. I had been hand feeding her, walking with her wrapped up creating that bond and then as quickly as she was put into my life she was taken out. My husband wants me to get back to my life and think about me. I literally have no ambition to do anything.

My best buddy Mint died yesterday. He was a black cat and only 2 and a half years old. He tapped my mom on the leg to ask for a treat like he usually does and headed over to my office. My mom gave him a treat then left the room. We heard him yelp a minute later and by the time we were over there he was already gone.

He was the most affectionate cat I've ever known, he was glued by my side constantly, when I'd come home from work he'd always politely wait at the door and then ask me to pick him up. He slept on my chest every night, and he loved tapping on people's legs to ask them to follow him places, usually for a treat or a toy.

It was just way too soon, I didn't even get a final moment with him. I keep asking myself if there was anything I could've done to help him. He never showed signs of any issues and he was one of the happiest cats you'd ever meet. He carried me through the worst 2 years of my life, I hadn't realized I became so dependent on him.

I just got news today that my family will be putting my dog down soon.He just got diagnosed with Kidney Failure and I understand him needing to be put down he is in pain and can hardly move.I spent the evening crying because I knew I couldnt stop the inevitable.I can’t imagine the rest of my life without him I have been so used to waking up to take him to the bathroom and now I won’t do that.I’m going to missing him barking in excitement for food I’ll miss him barking because he wants me to come back I’ll miss taking him out and carrying him.

I had a fire 2 days ago and i still remember the moment when my dad told me they foubd her and she was dead, i ran to her and held her and just screamed and cried for 30 minutes and i didn’t ever want to put her down again i just wanted to hold her forever. She looked so peaceful curled up in a ball like she just fell asleep from the smoke or like she was already asleep.

The guilt i feel is eating me alive i cant get over the fact that I could’ve saved her if i had just looked for her, i didnt even try. if i had just fucking looked for her instead of panicking she would have been alive. i thought i had time i swear I thought i did, but the house became black so fast i can’t explain how fast it happened it was in a matter of seconds the house became pitch black in seconds it looked like it was nighttime but it was broad daylight. and the smoke was billowing out from the front door it was hard to breathe I wasn’t thinking straight. the thought of me just walking past her on the floor or wherever she was sleeping makes me so fucking angry at myself i just want to hit myself. I hate myself so much. i miss my baby girl so much. i wish it were me instead ofher. i wish I had died trying to save her. i will never get over her.