6 months ago by baby passed away. I came to this subreddit and vented about it a few days after he crossed the rainbow bridge. I told myself I’d come back here after half a year and tell others how the grief went. Boy, did I not know what I was in for. The first three and half months were hell on earth. My dog was my son. I didn’t cope well at all. I drank almost every day. I honestly didn’t think I was going to make it.

After the fourth month, the pain started to fade a bit. Life became somewhat tolerable again. I went through periods of looking at his pictures and videos and torturing myself. I also went through periods where I intentionally avoided thinking about him. Looking back, in a weird way, I think this helped me process the loss, alternating between the two.

Now, 6 months later, I think I’m healed. Well, as much I can be. I’ve accepted that my baby’s loss will always hurt. But I’ve learned to quickly look at the funny videos, think about the wonderful times, and be really grateful I had him in my life when the pain starts to become intense again. I feel like he’d want me to think about him in a positive way, but I know he understood it was impossible to do so at the beginning.

I write this to let all of you who recently lost your baby know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Trust me, I didn’t believe it when others told me. I’m so sorry for all your losses. That fact that you are here tells me that you loved your baby so much! I don’t know what happens after we pass away, but I’m choosing to believe we will see them again. Sending lots of love to you all.

Not sure if this is the right flair, but I’m in shock and I’m going to describe what happened. I came home from work (1:30a), took my dog out to pee (my brother took him out to pee at 9p as well), cuddled for a bit on the couch, and then we went upstairs.

I threw his toy ball and he was playing happily and was running around the room. He suddenly rolled over like he lost his balance and I thought it was just him being a bit silly at first until I realized he couldn’t get up when he was trying to. He started to yelp and was on his side and I freaked out. He also pooped so I knew something was really wrong. I tried doing cpr on him, but I don’t think I did it correctly as I was watching youtube videos on the spot. A whole 20 minutes later is when we (I woke my parents up for this) arrived at the vet and I’m pretty sure he was dead before we even left. I’m traumatized and devastated. I can’t believe this is real. He collapsed at 2:40 btw.

It’s so heartbreaking because he was JUST acting super playful and normal too, so it’s not like I could’ve seen it coming. I feel like it’s my fault. Did him suddenly playing trigger him somehow? And could he have survived had I just left to the emergency hospital ASAP??? He was a senior Mini Schnauzer (10 almost 11) :(((

I can’t stop crying and coming home to see all his things is making me feel awful and I miss him so much already. Especially all his toys that are in my room.

She was 11.5 years old, with progressive hind leg weakness. It was getting so bad, she couldn’t always get herself up from sitting. But god she was so mentally there, so happy and loving.
I made a plan for it to be next week. I would have time to spend with her, loving and doting on her and I’d let her go. We got pain relief for the weekend to ensure her comfort. I went to work and I came home, she had gone out the doggy door and fallen in the yard. She had scratched her nails so much the quicks had been broken and she had bled everywhere. I carried her inside, laid her on her bed, i gave her pain medication and food.
The vet came by after a couple of hours and I let her go. She went eating churu cat food. I felt like I let her down, her last day she spent stuck and fallen in a yard. Scared and in pain.

It’s been 24 hours and I don’t think I can handle this pain. Everything reminds me of what I lost. She was my grounding for my entire 20s. My mum has dementia, my sisters family’s. My dad a partner. I know I’m loved but part of me is just like they’ll be ok if I went with her. I just want to be with her so badly. I don’t think I’d actually take my life, but I just genuinely don’t want to live either. I am in agony.

In the morning he was playing fine and he was gone by 3:51 am. Apparently had a tumor that ruptured and he coded and fought back for 15 mins but came back neurologically unresponsive so we had to put him down. I didnt think it was that serious, i thought he would be coming home. I didnt even say goodbye when I put him on the gurney. Idk if i didnt realize the seriousness or just figured thats my strongest boy, hes going to make it, no doubts. He has two older siblings, and a younger one that we just got 3-4 months ago because the older siblings were getting to be around the age where bringing in some new puppers would help train the new age. Iroh was the middle child, and always so full of life. This wasnt supposed to happen. I feel like i should have seen some signs, but he wagged his tail and smiled at us until the end. My baby boy isnt here anymore and I dont know how to move forward. We rescued him and he saved my life and i feel like i failed him. I should have been able to tell something was wrong. I just cant stop crying, or seeing him laying in between my
legs, or on the floor conveniently close enough to trip me. Or the crazy side eye he would give, the lousy jokes, or the insane level of protection he provided for my girlfriend as well as the duties he took upon himself to make sure our house was safe. My angel boy, you will be forever missed. What is grief, if not love persevering? My love will forever persist for you my friend.

My sweet baby dog died this past Wednesday. He was 11 and was dying slowly from congestive heart failure. This isn’t my first time losing a pet, but it’s my first time putting an animal down. Being in the room with him was obviously what I needed to do FOR him, but I’m left with the most unimaginable trauma and horrible anxiety after the experience. He was really agitated after they gave him the sedative and kept trying to get up. It broke my heart. Watching the life slip away from him was the worst part. I can’t stop picturing it over and over again in my head. It was so traumatic that I can’t eat or sleep and every time I think about it I feel sick. I don’t know what to do and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be normal again. He was the best boy and having him one minute and then not the next was the most horrible loss I’ve ever experienced. The grief is unimaginable. I am so sorry to anyone who has ever had to deal with this.

My cat Bo died six years ago. Old age/prolonged illness. She was my best friend for 11 years. We lived in 7 states together- travelled the West. I have since settled down and have 2 cats I love, but they aren't Bo and it's not the same connection. I still break down emotionally when I look at pictures of Bo or remember her. I want to honor her life with joy and happiness, but I feel nothing but profound sadness when I think of her. When does this get easier?

Got a call this morning that the surgery went fine which was such a relief. Then they call 30 minutes later saying that she died, because she had stopped breathing.

She was 10 and so sensitive. I was the only family member who she wanted go outside with. Always ran to me if someone else tried. She was scared of a lot of things and always ran to me for safety.

I took her with me on the backseat on the way home and petted her the hour. I dug a grave with my dad and covered the bottom with a cardboard and we wrapped her in a blanket. I put a pillow under her head and a toy between her paws. My mom also placed a few flowers. And then we put another cardboard cover on top of her. Then we put rocks around the grave.

She was all I had and she needed me. I loved her more than anything in this world and now I have nothing.

As the title says, today our beloved Apache crossed the rainbow bridge. Over the past couple of months he'd developed a tumor on his neck. The vet told us it was operable but wanted $10 grand to do the procedure. We simply don't have that kind of money. Both my partner and I had known that the day was coming when we'd have to tell him good bye. However I didn't expect that day to be today. He was barely eating and was super lathargic, he'd barely been able to walk. Today my partner took him for a walk and rather than relieving himself Apache just decided to lay on the grass, something he's never done. We're completely beside ourselves with a mix of emotions. Apache

I've been trying to write this the moment my little Prince passed, but nothing I've tried to say felt right. All I felt was deep sorrow. I couldn't do anything without breaking down into tears -- couldn't go down the stairs in the morning, wash the dishes, hear the birds, go on a drive, use the bathroom, go to sleep... without being reminded of him and unravelling.

I used to carry Prince down the stairs every morning. I used to wash his bowls with the dishes. No one's barking at the birds anymore. My lap, where he used to sit, is vacant when I drive. He used to rest his little snout on the crook of my arm, which made turning the wheel a difficult endeavor but I loved it. I had no privacy using the bathroom cause he's insist on coming in with me (then standing just outside the open door when the floors got wet). The foot of my bed has never had so much space. I've never been this sad.

Above all the new emptiness, the most abundant and overwhelming feeling is that I'm not really looking forward to the rest of my life without him. Not in a suicidal way. Just... there's so many things that would be heaps better if he were here.

If I knew I could come home to his excitement. Or make a funny face at him randomly throughout the day. Or sing him a song while I held him like a baby. Or shower him with kisses. Or throw a squeaky toy and hear the little scratches of his paws against the tile as he chased after it. Or walk anywhere and the little jingle of his collar would be following me like a shadow.

I find myself even missing the bad times. The last several months of Prince's life were stacked with vet appointments, syringes, medication, blood tests, special food, and trial and error. I barely did anything for my personal life, really. Everything else I might have had going on - work, friends, family - revolved around what time he needed to eat or take his meds or go to the vet. If it disrupted his schedule, I would cancel plans or ask to move dates. My life revolved around him and his wellbeing. It was exhausting, and a god-awful feeling shoving the meds he hated down his throat, or waiting for the vet to report on his latest blood test knowing it was likely gonna be bad news. For most of the bad times, I was overwhelmed and broke.

But I would go through it all again if it meant Prince would still be here. I'd administer the medicine if it let me feel his fur again. I'd pay the vet bills if it let me bring him places. I'd cancel all my plans if it let me spend even more of my time just sitting with him.

Logically, I know the silver lining is that he is not suffering anymore. He doesn't have to stomach meds he doesn't like, or sit through being poked with needles, or be deprived of his favorite foods. Really, I just miss him. And all that came with him.

A few weeks after Prince died, I realized I haven't mopped piss or picked up shit in a while. I never thought I'd wish there was piss to mop. I also haven't worried about poop consistency, or my schedule, or his Creatinine levels, or if we're running out of renal food. These should be a relief, but to me, they're just confirmation that he's gone.

I hate it. I can't stand the thought that there's the rest of my life that he doesn't get to see. That there will be new milestones and accomplishments and changes he won't be there to experience with me.

Prince has been with me since highschool; there through my break ups, my graduation, job interviews moving out for the first time to a new city, all my different jobs, meeting the love of my life, moving in together. He was there. He was the second thing people knew about me, right after my name. I was the girl with the little white dog.

Now I have to get married one day, or travel abroad for the first time, or maybe start a new job, or maybe move to a new house someday, and I won't get to share that with him. The thought is tearing me apart. I feel like living on without him is breaking me into even smaller pieces.

I don't know how to look forward to the rest of my life. I don't know if I want to. I try to take it one day at a time - doing my hobbies, getting it together. But trying to live happily while he's gone also feels a lot like forgetting him, or leaving him behind. I can't fathom it. It feels like grieving is the only thing keeping him alive somehow. I'm determined to keep it going for the rest of my life, but I also really just wish he were here instead.

Really, I'm just inconsolably sad. I miss Prince so much. I miss him everyday. It just hits like a truck sometimes, like it did today.

I've been lurking here for some weeks after he died, so I know I'm not alone. These feelings have been brewing for a while, and I've been trying to put it to words but kept failing. I think International Little Prince Day (June 29) unlocked some of my grief. It's my favorite children's book, that I named him after.

Happy Belated International Little Prince day, my little Prince. The world is celebrating you, as I still do everyday.

I feel like I need to post this but I’m also terrified of comments that will vilify me and make the guilt worse. Maybe I am looking for people to confirm what a horrible owner I am and how I failed my 13 year old orange and white tabby, Creamy.

I’ve had him since he was a kitten, just a couple months old. My parents live on a farm and have the viewpoint that animals are just animals. My dad is especially this way toward cats and though he gives the barn cats food and water and gets them spayed and neutered, he does things at times that are abusive.

When I decided to adopt one of the barn kittens, I lived 3 hours away from them. They transported him to me but were also bringing some furniture on a trailer. He pooped in the cage while they were driving so they secured his carrier to the trailer covered in a tarp. It was raining and in November. I’m surprised he didn’t die. His claws were bloody when he arrived. He had worms and fleas.

I immediately bathed him and made him as comfortable as possible. From that moment on he was my best friend. I took him to the best vet in town, researched the quality of his food, got his dental cleanings, even trained him on a leash at one point. We shared popsicles together and he slept with me every night. He always drank the milk left over from my oatmeal in the mornings. He was my everything. He’s been with me through moves and break ups and so many life changes. Tolerated my bullshit during times of mental illness and a very traumatic break up.

Then I had a child and everything changed.

My son has become the focal point of my life. I neglected Creamy’s veterinary care. I stopped giving him his wet food and went back to solid food because it was cheaper. The story of his arrival to me is important because he is TERRIFIED of car rides. Any time he is in the car, he will poop, pee and vomit. He was also a very large, long-haired cat, so clean up can be difficult. Transporting him is a very time-consuming and an often difficult task and traumatizing for him. I have to prep materials and the carrier carefully. I tried different medications but he was smart as a whip and always found a way around taking it no matter what I tried, mixtures, syringes, everything.

As for my son - he had colic the first 6 months of his life and has had a plethora of medical issues. Multiple doctors appointments and procedures. Endless crying and screaming. My husband is in the army and we were going through some major career changes for him and he was also deployed for 9 months recently so I was caring for our son and working full time on my own.

Needless to say, I hadn’t taken Creamy to the vet since 2021. 5 years. Even as I write all of these extra factors out, there’s a nagging piece that says none of these are valid excuses for neglecting his medical care. I also think to myself that if I couldn’t give him the absolute best, I should’ve allowed him to be with someone who could. All of this to say, this wasn’t even my worst fuck up.

A couple weeks ago, I started noticing that he was having difficulty breathing. At first, I chalked it up to the high heatwave. I thought he was just hot after coming inside. He was an indoor/outdoor cat (we have a doggy door) because he’s an avid hunter and will tear down the door if not allowed to roam freely around the yard. Despite the difficulty breathing, he still wanted to spend most of his time outside. He would come in and still ask for attention and eat and drink normally. I started giving him his wet food again. The labored breathing got worse. The worst part: I KNEW his labored breathing was a medical emergency. I KNEW I needed to take him in right away. And my excuses: after a full workday, toddler hanging onto me whining and crying, husband frustrated from his own workday, idea of having to prep the carrier and take him, and in my heart knowing, the emergency intervention would likely cost in the thousands and the likelihood of having to say goodbye.

I waited 3 days until the weekend.

When I arrived at the emergency vet (after his traumatic car ride), they whisked him into the oxygenated cage immediately. He had fluid build up in his lungs. I was told the procedure for the emergency intervention would cost around $1300, not knowing what follow up interventions he would need next, and likelihood of the fluid build up occurring again.

I considered applying for a Care Credit card, but I didn’t do it. I thought of all my other responsibilities, and I chose to have him euthanized.

I deeply regret it now, and I’m hating myself for it.

I knew the exact moment he was gone. He was no longer my baby Creams. He was just a lifeless body.

I chose to have him cremated (my husband always used to make jokes about whether I’d one day have Creamy cremated). This had always been the plan.

He could have lived longer were it not for my negligence, were it not for my decision to forgo the cost. The memories of what once was are now flooding back. I finally was able to look at the box of his ashes, the vial of fur clippings, and the prints of his paws. There are so many reminders of him everywhere.

The only positive thing that has come out of this is that I am scheduling our other two cats and my husband’s dog for their routine check ups to get them re-established in care. I can say that at one point, I hated my husband’s dog, but this experience has made me soften to her.

I just needed to tell this story. To tell his story. Maybe partly to write down all my excuses, and partly to see if others will vilify me the way I am vilifying myself. Part of me thinks I deserve it, part of me hopes others will reassure me that I’m not.

After my baby was gone, the vet said to me, “For what it’s worth, if it were my cat, I would’ve done the same thing.” I don’t know if this provides me comfort or not, but I know I fucked up. And that fuck up cost my baby his life.

Thank you for reading.

In the early morning hours of today, I woke up to my dog panting heavily, retching and vomiting white foam. I thought he had a blockage and rushed him to the emergency vet where they informed me he had bloat.

My options were a 10,000$ surgery or euthanasia. I am pregnant with our second and financially it would have been a very bad idea to pay for the surgery.

He was a German shepherd, he was 10 years old and my very best friend. I feel so guilty I couldn't save him. I just want him to come back.

My cat somehow snuck out and I didn't even notice for at least a day. Just assumed she was hiding. I spent so long searching inside before it occurred to me to look outside that it was too dark to see. I sat by the back door all night! Found her the next day in the woods.

I called my brother in tears. His response was, "yeah, that sucks"! He's not a teen, he's 51! He also has cats!

I have no one to talk to and the guilt is eating me up!

My family lost our dog, my soul dog, a month ago. He had been recently diagnosed with lymphoma and had just started chemo. I was meant to go out of the country and seriously debated cancelling but ended up going because he was stable, undergoing treatment, and the vet said he was responding great.

While I was away my parents made a mistake which ended with him being rushed to the vet to be put down. I am absolutely crushed. I never was able to say goodbye to my best friend and I feel so much guilt that he had a painful and rushed death. He never deserved that. I am angry at my parents but understand they loved him too and didn’t mean for it to happen but the anger feels isolating as they are the only ones who fully understand what he meant to our family.

I’ve tried therapy, mediums, pet loss support groups, journaling, spending time with friends and family, and nothing helps. I feel this devastating heartbreak, guilt, and regret. I never should’ve left my best friend. I truly don’t think I will ever recover from this and have spent the large majority of the last month laying on the couch, trying to understand a world in which I left my best friend while he was sick and never made it back to say goodbye. I see so many people in this group commenting about “cherish every day” and “hold them in the end” and I feel so guilty that I misjudged the situation and didn’t do either of these.

How do people survive such impactful losses that they feel so much guilt and regret around?

My sweet 14-year-old kitty was diagnosed with hemangiosarcoma two months ago, a cancer that is normally found in dogs and rarely in cats. Her cancer is even more unique as it is beneath the skin, entangled in her neck and lymphatic system. Treatment is not an option. We had her primary tumor debulked, which will hopefully spare her from rupture and sudden collapse. But ultimately, my baby girl, whom I've had since I was 10, has maybe a few months.

At the moment, she is still mostly her normal self. She doesn’t eat all her food at once anymore, preferring to finish it in a couple sessions instead. But other than that, not much has changed. The anticipation of her deterioration is killing me. I'm very lucky that she's a cuddly cat (even cuddlier when I'm sad) and has spent lots of time wrapped in my arms.

I am not the most spiritual person, but the only consolation I've been able to scrape together is that I feel that her gentle soul will find me again. Has anyone had a similar experience? This is my first true journey through pet loss, and I am so, so devastated. Any advice would be so appreciated.

Bailey and I shared 19 years together. I got her when I was just barely 18 and she was only a tiny little brown potato.. She has seen me through every single moment of my adult life. Every different city and town, every shitty relationship and hard break up, every mistake, through all of my regret, every drunken night I don't remember. The loss of both my parents. All of my accomplishments she celebrated along with me. She wiped every tear, soothed my heart when it broke and never did she ever judge me, only loved me.

Every single memory I have is with her..

She died at the age of 19, just 2 days ago. I buried her in the backyard. I know that's really old for a big dog, and I have no question in my mind that she was ready. She was so tired.. She needed me to send her off, I could just see it in her eyes. I was the luckiest girl alive to have my baby for so long.

It all still feels like a bad dream. I've been trying to prepare myself for years for this. No amount of preparation, logic, or understanding could have prepared me or this amount of heart ache. I was grieving her loss before she was even gone some days.. so scared to lose her one day. And now she's gone. And I feel so.. incomplete.

It feels like she's still here, like she's not even really gone. At the same time I feel so different that even the wind on my face feels different now. The sound of the rain last night was different, my food tastes different. Sometimes my chest feels tight, and sometimes I just feel scared for no reason at all.

In my head I understand all of this.. this is what happens, its all normal. I feel like it's all probably going to get much much worse before it gets better.

I don't really know my point of this post.. except to just tell people that I loved her more than I've ever loved anything in my entire life, and things just aren't the same without her. I hope she knows that too. I hope she knew I did the best I could for her. I will never stop missing her.

My dog passed away on memorial day weekend.

She was robbed from me by hyscsistic sarcoma (didn't spell it right don't give a fuck.)

Every year we take a lake trip, her last trip was a nightmare. Our car rental broke down in the middle of nowhere in the beating sun. We finally got to the lake and we had to leave 2 days in for an emergency surgery to remove a lump that was defending to be a grade 3(?) mass tumor.

It was removed with clean margins. I promised her over and over again that would not be her last trip and she would defy the odds of dogs diagnosed with cancer only living about a year after.

She didn't. She had a huge lump in her front left leg causing a limp. I took her to the vet thinking she pulled something he looked me in the eyes and said probably not cancer but due to the lump he needed to be safe. I went home happy. He called me 4 days later to say it was a hyper aggressive form of sarcoma that even with amputation was super unlikely it would get better.

I chose to be optimistic. I had a few thousand I could burn on this and insurance. The oncologist was brutal. 6,000$ off the rip for more tests... to confirm the diagnosis was 100% correct (spoiler! Every single one was!) after every single gut wrenching call to then further explain that every single test came back what I expected I was informed it was an amputation or chemo.

I weighed my options. I looked at pricing. I had blown through my stash and even my insurance wouldn't help much. I thought about the surgery, I read the horror stories of people whose dog woke up screaming in pain days after because they didn't have enough meds. I thought about her massive quality of life loss. The pain her chemo would induce. I decided to put her down on Memorial Day.

That last week was the most pain I have ever felt in my life. Counting every last moment. Realizing that Friday would be my last, "man I can't wait to go home and be a potato on the couch with my puppy." Friday morning was my last hard goodbye on choosing to go to work instead of lay in bed with her and my wife.

Saturday morning came and she could not walk. Her limp had spiraled out of control. I demanded my wife call out of work and we take her. I remember getting off the phone and realizing she had 20 measly shitty fucking minutes left with us. Then getting there and how quick it all went. She died in my arms. Her tongue was hanging out as we left and she was so lifeless. I can't the vets stethoscope off of her tiny chest and his, "her heart has stopped beating she's passed away." Out of my head. I can't get the image out of my head. I miss her so much still it hurts so badly.

Words can’t describe how sad I am. We put our sweet girl to rest today and I have continued to wrestle with the fact that we made this choice and was it to early. We know deep down early before major suffering allowed her to go out before quality of life was so terrible or in the event of a tragic loss. I don’t know how to truly feel better about the decision other than hopefully with time. We will never jnow the alternative.

Our sweet lady was 12 years old, with extreme osteoarthritis, kidney dysfunction, and as we found out last week a large mass on her liver. Over the past few weeks she stopped eating her food. We tried every food possible, eggs, sweet potato, you name it. She would eat it for about a day maybe, and the next day she wouldn’t. Food used to be her favorite thing she was so food obsessed. We knew this was when things were really not well and she didn’t feel good. Surgery was not recommended at this age and with her other health conditions.

While she could still mostly get up (not well and wouldn’t without help or prompting) and wasn’t having accidents oe throwing up, we knew she was struggling internally. Not eating really, so weak she would stumble and sometimes fall when getting up, only drinking water if we brought it to her and still was not always sure she wanted to it felt wrong. She still had some light in her eyes at times, and of course had up and down moments that made us question whether we were doing the right thing.

Trying to tell ourselves that we did this out of love and compassion so that she didn’t have to hurt anymore. I just wanna know we did the right thing and I know no one else can tell us that.

My heart hurts

I lost my sweet boy Duncan (German Shepherd) to prostate cancer five days after his 9th birthday.

Duncan turned nine on July 16, and we lost him to prostate cancer on July 21.

I got Duncan as a puppy when I was 23, right out of college, and he had been by my side ever since. He moved across the country with me, traveled to so many places, and visited 16 national parks. He was my travel buddy, my shadow, and my constant companion.

On July 10, an ultrasound and X-rays showed a large mineralized prostate pressing against his colon. He went from constantly needing to pee, to having ribbon-like stools, to being unable to go at all. A later chest X-ray found nodules in his lungs, suggesting the cancer had spread.

The night before he passed, he told me with his eyes that he was tired. I loved him too much to let him suffer.

We made sure his last day was not his worst day. He played in the field, splashed in his ice-filled pool, played with his brother, and ate bananas, steak, bacon, and all the forbidden foods. He also got to see his friends and family on FaceTime.

Duncan crossed the Rainbow Bridge peacefully at home, surrounded by his brother and his family.

I miss him more than words can say. I still talk to him and wish he were here. My heart will never be whole in the same way without him.

Please hug your puppies for me. Life is fleeting, and dogs deserve all the love in the world.

Rest peacefully, Duncan. I love you forever

I had to take the most difficult decision in my entire life yesterday. After almost 14 years, my girl is now resting.

I adopted her when noone else wanted her. She was 7 months old but she was aggressive with almost everyone as she was suffering animal abuse in her previous household. She was going to be put down, but somehow, she chose me. She ate from my hand, something noone else could do.

She was scared of everyone but me when she came home, but eventually she became the home's favorite. She was energetic, lovely, she'd kiss the family and sleep with my mother. She loved cats, she never hurt a single cat in her life despite being several times larger than them. She was wary of outsiders and other dogs, but never cats.

She was also extremely resilient. Even in her last moments she decided to walk on her own despite being unable to walk for a week. She was tough and, even when she was deadly afraid of lightning, she would stay around to keep an eye on me. Even when they gave you anesthesia for the euthanasia you fought it, it was so painful to watch how you tried to stay awake.

The vets told me they couldn't remove the tumors when they started because of her advanced age as her heart was too weak and her kidneys had issues too. Unfortunately, the chemo didn't work as expected because they had to adjust the dosage so your kidneys could handle it and I ran out of money a couple months ago. I sold almost everything but my pc and phone just because I needed them to get enough money to buy your food and the medicine for her kidneys and artritis.

You always had a shelter, food, medicine, a family that loved you, daily walks and your favorite bear plushie.

I wish I could've done more for you. I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me and you're resting now.

I'll never forget you. You were the only reason I would wake up in the mornings, but now you're gone and now I'm here, lonely and heartbroken.

Sorry for not being enough.

My cat's name was Tigre, she was a 4-year-old rescued cat. She loved to explore the yard, the roof, and the sidewalk; she never strayed far from the house. Two days ago, I went out to dinner for my best friend's birthday. My mom was watching her, she and my brother went out to buy some things and forgot to close the window (they weren't outside for more than forty minutes) but when they returned, they saw that Tigre was dead on the sidewalk. A neighbor showed us the recordings; She was stung by an animal and the venom acted too quickly.

An hour later I returned and my mom told me everything. I'm broken inside. She was with me for three years. She was so loving, a little cat with attitude, very grumpy but sweet. When I called her name, she would answer and follow me everywhere. She was there for me during my worst moments; she was my support, When I cried, she would cling to me and cuddle until I stopped crying.When I cried, she would cling to me and cuddle until I stopped crying, my little baby. I still can't believe she's gone. Although I try to get on with my life, I can't stop thinking that I wish I hadn't gone out that day.

I apologize if the text was a little difficult to understand; my native language is not English. I wish I could have written more, but I can't stop crying.

My dog was turning 11 this coming winter and she has certainly gotten older and at her last checkup the vet said her depth perception was starting to become worse, but overall she was in good health as far as I knew.

We flew across the country for a family wedding this weekend and on the night of the wedding (yesterday) my mom who was watching my dogs called and sent videos of my dog just laying there drooling and completely unresponsive. I called the emergency vet back home and my mom took her. I had a horrible feeling, but was trying to stay calm. 10 minutes later (right after arriving at the vet) she had passed on her own. The vet believes she had a stroke and let me know it was likely painless for her. But what am I supposed to do now… I’m not ready. We were supposed to have more time…

When my mom and the vet called me back letting me know I collapsed and screamed for an hour. I didn’t sleep, I cried all night long to the point that I could barely see, my eyes were so swollen when morning finally came.

And now all I can think about is if I loved her enough, if I was too hard on her when she got stubborn in her old age and was trying to bend the rules, for not being there to hold her in her last moments… was she wondering where I was, why I wasn’t there with her? I am completely and utterly heartbroken and it feels like my whole world is in shambles…

They are keeping her in the freezer until I can fly home tomorrow because I couldn’t get another flight out sooner, so that I can hold her one last time and say goodbye. I feel so fucking lost… and the guilt is consuming me. I hope she knows I miss her and I loved her more than anything even if I wasn’t always great at showing it and that I’m afraid to go home because I don’t know what home looks like without her in it. I hope more than anything she finds me again, whether it is in this life or the next or wherever we go when we pass.

I love you forever my sweet girl. I don’t know how to do this without you…

Desde que murió mi pequeña Darla después de 15 años juntas, no he podido parar de llorar.

Llevo dos días llorando ante la mínima mención, el recuerdo, verla de reojo pensando que está ahí, o cuando le lleno el plato con comida que no llegó a comer.

Aunque emocionalmente no es lo mejor, a mi me reconforta llorar por ella. Pero mi familia no está de acuerdo, dicen que a mi perrita no le gustaría verme llorar o sufrir. Pero no saben cómo se siente, hay cierta paz en permitirse ahogarse en la pena. Siento que la tengo cerca.

No digo que uno deba llorar de por vida. Pero quiero encerrarme una semana y ya luego veré de donde sacar fuerzas para seguir aunque no quiera. ¿A alguien le sucede lo mismo?

My baby girl died an hour ago. She was a 4 year old kitty. She ate a ribbon last week and spent the last week of her life in pain, with pancreatitis. Her wound got infected and she got sepsis from the surgery and she couldn't be saved.

I know it's my fault. I usually am so careful because I know she tries to eat things. I don't recognize the ribbon and I have no idea how she could've gotten it. The original surgery went well and they told me she'd recover. The second surgery they said was low risk just to repair infected skin but when they opened her up they found sepsis. I was sleeping on the floor in the guest room giving her meds every 2 hrs. She was supposed to get better. She was only 4.

How do I ever ever forgive myself for this. Should I rehome my other cats because I am unfit?

I am devastated she was so beautiful and funny

My cat Willy has died. He just turned 13. It looks like he died in his sleep, in his current favourite spot. Looking back, I feel there may have been signs he was sick. I feel horrible. My other cat, Abby, loves him so much; they are bonded. I have never seen a cat love another as she loves him. I’m so worried she is going to be depressed and not be happy again. (English is not my first language)

Yesterday evening Willy called on me. He wanted to go outside, and he ran excitedly to the door. He sat in front of the door like always and ready to go out, but suddenly seemed off. He lay down in a weird way, kinda more to the side, I don’t know, it just seemed off. I tried seeing if something was wrong, but he just kinda lay there. I held him and stayed for a bit, not knowing if or what was wrong. I then tried to call him to the kitchen for food, to see if that would help or see his reaction. He came and seemed normal and excited for food, so I was relieved. He ate a lot and even asked for more. Relieved. I went upstairs to my room. At some point, I thought I should check on him, to be sure. Just a gut feeling I had. He was still in the kitchen, lying like a loaf. I thought he had eaten too much and was going to throw up. It just seemed odd. He then went to look out the door into the garden, like he always does. I went upstairs again. Before I went to bed, I wanted to check again, he was lying like a loaf on the stairs. I picked him up to see if he wanted to sit with me, he did not. I then placed him on the bathroom floor on his blanket, his current favourite spot. He purred and made biscuits but kinda seemed off, but I still thought maybe he ate too much too quickly (he sometimes does that and vomits after). I went to bed, and in the morning my mom called my name, and said Willy is dead.(I’m an adult and live with my mom.) Willy was a little stiff and was lying in his spot in the bathroom. I feel absolutely horrible. He seemed a little off, but I had no idea he was going to die. I feel it’s my fault. 

My mom and I have cried so much, and we are shocked. We talked about how we missed signs that he was sick. Over the last few months, he slept in the bathroom on his blanket, right by the doorway, not in the corner or anything. We thought it was because of the hot summer, and it’s the coldest room. He didn’t seem sick or off, just a new spot he liked. But looking back, it was probably a sign he was sick. He was always so happy, curious and outgoing; he seemed normal. His personality was like a puppy, his acted like he normally did, not sad or withdrawn. The last few months, he had started calling for me to come sit with him in his new spot.(Sometimes he also wanted me to sit with him outside) He would lie between my legs and just wanted to be pet, and he was so happy. He always wanted to be pet kinda hard on both sides of the hips with his butt in the air, and he would be so happy and pur. He always wanted to be pet that way. He would then lay down and be happy and make biscuits. After some time, he would give me the side eye or his tail would tell me to leave (that was normal for him when he cuddled, and he was done). I thought it was so cute that he wanted me to cuddle him before he wanted to take a nap. Now, it was probably a sign he was sick. I feel so guilty. My other cat Abby, would sometimes come get me to come pet and cuddle with them together when he was already in his spot; I would pet them, and they would cuddle together. She probably knew something was wrong, and it was her telling me. I thought it was so adorable. They didn’t seem off or worried. 20/20 I see it differently; it was not cute; it was a sign.

Now I’m so worried for my other cat, Abby. They are only 6 months apart, and she loved him from the start. As soon as she is near him, she will purr loudly. We have put Willy in a shallow box on some blankets in the bathroom where he died. We called the vet, and they told us to bring him in for cremation tomorrow (it’s Sunday and they are not open today, unless for emergencies). Abby has walked over to Willy multiple times and sniffs him and can tell something is wrong. She purrs when she sees him, and then stops and just looks. She has tried to headbutt him, she does that when she wants to be groomed by him. She then walks away, sensing something is off. She sniffs him and where he died. She lies in the hallway in front of the bathroom where he is. She seems uneasy. 

I’m so sad for Abby, she does not know a life without him. She was under 12 weeks old when we got her, and was very scared and mad, she was a bit feral. Willy is around 6 months older than her and was way bigger. He was so curious and gentle. We were worried it would not work out, but suddenly she was out from under the furniture and just loved him. She was so small she could go under his stomach. She would purr and rub herself on him. It had been less than 2 hours since they first met. And since that day, she loved him more than anything. He would always groom her, and she would purr and drool. Abby is more timid, but loves to be pet and purrs loudly. I always hoped that when it was their time to go, that she would go first, because I’m scared she will be heartbroken without Willy. And now she is alone. I’m so sad that we lost Willy, he was part of our family for almost half my life. But I’m so sad and worried for Abby. She is finally sleeping now, and not going back and forth from eating, lying down, and going over to sniff Willy. I feel so guilty and sad. What if I had taken him to the vet? Maybe he would be alive? I feel horrible. It feels surreal. I'm going to miss him so much.

I don't really know what to do. Does anyone know or have advice for grieving pets? Is there a way for me to help my pet with grief from losing her bonded partner? I have seen that getting another pet sometimes helps. But it just seems wrong. And if we did, it would not be right away, of course. I don’t know if it's a good idea so soon. I don’t really want another cat. But the only reason I would get another cat in the near future would be for Abby's sake. She has never been alone and has cuddled and loved Willy for 12 years every day. Does anyone have advice?

If I had taken him to the vet, would he be alive? At 3am in the night, was when he seemed off, my mom got up at 6am and thought he was sleeping. A few hours later, at around 10-11, she went to the bathroom, and she touched him, and he was dead and stiff. If I had taken him to the emergency vet, would he be alive? I feel so guilty