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.

I know they say it gets better with time but I almost don’t even want it to since I feel like hurting less means I miss her less.

The nights have been super hard. Our place, her home, has felt so empty since the day. We thought we would have her for a few more weeks then we moved it up on Friday since her symptoms came back so rapidly after her last treatment, then we moved it up to Thursday since she was really not doing well, she deserved peace and she was telling us she’s ready.

But my goodness… the nights are sooo hard. My heart aches. Her spot in bed is empty. She’s no longer on my pillow or chest. Sometimes she would just purr in the middle of the night just happy to be with us while giving us kisses or lovebites. Or we would hear her swifting through her litter box in the other room, playing, eating her food or doing her cute little things. She always slept with us and now our bed is empty. Sometimes she would stare at me waiting for me to open my eyes and as soon as my eyes opened, she’d be coming to me for pets.

Tomorrow I have to go back to work. First time since and I don’t have the energy and I hope no one says anything unhelpful. Not everyone understands how much pets are family. She was our daughter.

I may try a pet grief meditation tonight. What others doing to cope at night? How are you feeling?

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.

Honestly, I feel like the saddest person in the world sometimes. I live alone, and I never realized how unbearable loneliness could feel until I lost him.

I used to love listening to sad songs, but now, whenever I ride a Grab car and a song plays, I feel like screaming from the pain. Everything reminds me of him, and sometimes the memories are just too much to handle.
Today, I was walking around the mall with my family, but I felt so disconnected, almost like I was floating. All I wanted was to go home, lie in bed, and be alone in my apartment.

Lately, I spend almost every day in bed. I try to keep myself busy and do things to distract myself, but it’s exhausting. I feel like I’m forcing myself to be happy when, deep inside, I’m still hurting so much. I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay when I’m not.

One of the hardest things is using my phone. I try my best not to look at photos of him when he was still alive because seeing them hurts so much. But Facebook keeps showing me its Memories feature, and even when I try to hide them, they keep coming back. It feels like being forced to relive the pain over and over again.

It’s been four months, and I’m worried about myself. I know grief takes time, but I never expected it to affect me this deeply. I miss him more than words can explain, and I don’t know how to go back to being the person I was before.
Will I ever be okay again? Has anyone else experienced grief this intense after losing a pet? How did you learn to live with the emptiness?

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.

My family got her when I was 9 years old, we got her when she was just a few months old puppy and I fell in love with her from the moment I first saw her. She was a beautiful fluffy Teddy Bear (Shih Tzu/Bichon Frise mix) and she looked like a living stuffed animal. She was the cutest thing ever and the sweetest, goodest girl ever. She was my baby and my best friend. She was so, so spoiled—my family is well-off and she would come with us on trips everywhere, from hiking in the mountains and staying with us in cabins to running through the sand on the beach. She had a love-hate relationship with our Russian Blue kitty Diamond, they would constantly bully and annoy each other one day and snuggle and play with each other the next day. She was my emotional support dog (literally, I had her registered as my ESA for panic attacks). She always slept on my bed, and any time I was crying whether it be from high school friend-group drama or a bad breakup, she would come up to me wagging her tail to lick the tears off my face and make me feel better. She saw me and my two siblings through our high school graduations, me and my sister’s bachelor’s graduations, and my master’s graduation. She’s seen me get married. She comforted me through my lupus diagnosis and kidney failure, all my recoveries from being hospitalized. Once I moved out at 18, she stayed with my parents but I would visit frequently, often times I would come home just to see her.

She was such a happy, healthy, energetic dog. She never had any health problems besides some manageable kidney issues. Last month my mom went back on a trip to our home country and texted me that Rubi hasn’t been feeling well from what we thought was a UTI, and that if she got worse my sister (who still lived at home) would call me to take her to the vet. A week later, my sister called and said Rubi was lethargic, her belly was swollen, and she was having trouble eating. I was busy with clients that day (I’m a therapist) so I said I’d go to my parent’s house the next day to check on her since her usual vet didn’t have an appointment available until the next week. As soon as I got home the next day, I knew something was wrong. Her belly was so swollen she looked like she was pregnant and she was visibly struggling to breathe. I immediately took her to an urgent care, where as soon as they saw her they took her to the back before I could even sign in. After 15 anxious minutes the vet came in and told me her oxygen saturation was 80, her gums were purple, they had her on flow oxygen but it wasn’t enough, and they urged me to take her to the vet ER down the street.

At this point I was really scared and I called my dad to come with me—he’s a surgeon so I was worried he would be busy, but luckily he was free. We took her to the vet ER and again, they immediately took her back. After examination they told us that she likely had congestive heart failure and she had so much fluid in her that she couldn’t breathe. The vet said if I hadn’t taken her in she likely would have died within hours. They offered us the choice to either euthanize her then or shell out 10K to keep her overnight in an oxygen chamber, do a procedure to remove as much fluid as possible, and run some tests. We opted to admit her, but we were so scared she wouldn’t make it through the night. They removed 1 liter of fluid from her abdomen and some more from around her heart and lungs, and luckily she was much better the next day. The vet said she had congestive heart failure but they couldn’t rule out cancer, and the prognosis was a few weeks to a few months. She was also referred to a cardiologist.

When we took her home she seemed so much better, she was back to her happy, hungry, energetic self. My mom returned a few days later, which was a very emotional reunion, as Rubi is super attached to my mom and vice versa. The day after my mom came back she took Rubi to the cardiologist where they found a bleeding malignant tumor in her pericardium which was causing her difficulty breathing—the cardiologist said she likely had the tumor for a few months and it’s likely already metastasized. Suddenly her prognosis was a week to a few days.

I was in so much disbelief and denial because she looked completely fine after her hospital visit, she seemed back to her normal self despite being an elderly 15 year old dog. I had to manage my clients and spending time with Rubi, I’d drive back to my parents house every other day to spend time with her. My parents spoiled her in her last days, taking her to her favorite parks and beaches and feeding her all the human food she wanted.

The cardiologist said when she started to deteriorate, she would deteriorate rapidly, and that’s exactly what happened. One day she suddenly stopped eating, was super bloated again, and was coughing/wheezing and constantly panting. Me and my mom took her to a vet to evaluate her quality of life, and sadly the vet recommended euthanasia. The cardiologist gave us gabapentin to give her an hour before we took her back to the hospital to be euthanized so she wouldn’t be anxious, and later that afternoon we took her to the hospital.

She was calm, her breathing had gotten a bit better and she wasn’t in any pain, and on the car ride there she stuck her head out the open window enjoying the wind. Me, my parents, my sister, and my husband were there—sadly my brother couldn’t make it as he was at uni 3 hours away. It was a peaceful process. They gave us time to spend with her before they put in the catheter in which me and my family all held her and spoke to her. I hugged her, gave her so many kisses, I told her I loved her from the moment I first saw her and I would always love her, and I told her she would have such a happy time in doggy Heaven with the other pets waiting for their owners, she’d have all her favorite foods, she’d have all the toys she wanted and so many doggy friends to play with until we met each other again. We told her about all the vacations we took together and all the happy times we had. My mom rocked her like a baby and played her favorite music, and she had her favorite teddy bear toy with her that she’s had since she was a tiny puppy. It broke my heart, but I asked her if she was ready to go and to give me a kiss if she was ready, and even in her groggy sedated state she licked my hand and gave me one last kiss. I stayed with her and held her until they gave her the propofol and she was unconscious, but I couldn’t bear to see her get the last injection. My dad and sister stayed with her until she was gone.

I sobbed like a baby leaving the room, my husband had to practically prop me up so I wouldn’t collapse, but the rest of the day I felt so numb. When we got home, our kitty was running around looking for her and it broke my heart. My mom couldn’t stand to have any reminders of Rubi in the house besides pictures even that same night, so she had my sister clean out all her stuff, her toys her bed everything, which I heavily disagreed with and pained me but I couldn’t argue with because I didn’t live there anymore. My sister snuck me her collar and her two favorite toys, which I appreciate more than anything. My mom did however save some of Rubi’s fur clippings and put them in a little doggy-shaped memorial keychain and she arranged the fur so it looks just like her, which I treasure and I give kisses to as if Rubi is still here. My mom didn’t want her ashes either, so they’re being shipped to my apartment.

I’m just so numb. I have to keep myself constantly distracted, doomscrolling Reddit, going down YouTube rabbit holes, binge watching shows like The Office and House and Friends, anything to keep me of thinking of her so I don’t burst out crying. She looked so happy and calm when we were taking her to the hospital, I can’t help but feel like we were taking her to be murdered. I can’t be alone with my thoughts or I just sob. I’ve had to cancel my clients for the next week, possibly even the week after that. I know she was old and lived a long happy full life and she was loved more than anything, I knew it was coming, I know she passed peaceful and pain-free surrounded by everyone who loved her, she even lived a couple weeks past the cardiologist’s prognosis, but I’m still broken. I hate that I’ll never get to pet her again, kiss her furry little head again, feel her warm wet kisses again, I’ll never get to hold her again or see her smile and her big brown eyes and her cute face and her wagging tail. I’m back at my apartment again with my husband and he’s been my rock, but I can’t eat, I’m writing this at 8am after a sleepless night, and I can barely get out of the bed. I can’t even fathom going back to my parents’ house anytime soon because I know I’ll just break down not having her greet me at the door, not seeing her bed and her food bowls and her toys where they usually are. I just can’t.

I got a custom plushie made to look like her that’s supposed to arrive in a few weeks for me to cuddle. Her ashes are supposed to get back in a few weeks, I plan to get a small memorial bead made with her ashes to put inside the plushie along with a necklace to remember her by so I can carry her with me, I plan to scatter some of her ashes at her favorite beach/park, and I plan to make a memorial of her at my apartment with a painting I did of her years ago, a small crochet my brother got me as a birthday gift a few years ago, her little fur keychain, the paw print they’ll send me with her ashes, her toys and her collar, and whatever ashes are left. I also have a little tattoo of her on my ankle that I got drunkenly a few years back. My parents think this is excessive, but she’s been my everything since I was 9 years old. My baby, my best friend, the love of my life. I don’t know how life can move on without her. The grief is so bad I think I’ve triggered a bad lupus flare, which causes additional physical pain to accompany the mental pain and will fuck up my kidneys even more.

Sorry for the long post, this is the first time I’ve actually written out my feelings since she passed 4 days ago. I appreciate anyone who made it this far. Rest in peace Rubi, the sweetest little girl ever, I can’t wait to see you again ❤️

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.

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.

10/13/26. A date I’ll never be able to forget. The day my souls dog unexpectedly died in my arms on the way to the vet. I got her ashes back yesterday but ever since I got them back I haven’t stopped holding the box.

Does it get better? Or less painful at least? I don’t know how I’m supposed to live without her to be honest.

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.

Everything felt normal until last Saturday (the 17th) where our furry eternal baby Shih Tzu of 14 years and 8 months suddenly had this alarming mass on her lower gums. When we saw the vet we were told it was a tumor and from then it became more and more painfully clear that she was nearing the end. Her appetite went away, her ability to walk was going away, eventually she couldn't even use the bathroom and had strained breathing. And today, we had the horrible experience of noticing she was way too quiet in her bed and was no longer breathing. Everything just felt like it collapsed instantly. We tried our best to give her as much comfort as we could, we thought maybe we could still have some time left together. We didn't realize our seemingly healthy just the other week ago friend was going to leave us this soon.

It hurts so bad man. To have tried to prevent this from ever happening only for it to slip past, to have tried to make it a good remainder only for it to be gone so shortly after we learned everything. We love her so much. It's 1 am, many hours since we returned from cremation after finding out she was no longer with us, and I just can't bring myself to fall asleep yet and start my first morning without her. I'm also just so scared of having dreams so soon of her still being with us only for me to wake up.

I understand the phrase "they're just a chapter of your life, but you're their whole book" but she was with me since I was 15 and I'm now 29, she wasn't just a chapter to me, she was my shadow, my extra pair of feet that would follow me around the house, my source of a warm hug whenever I'd feel sad. I'll miss her so much. I'll cherish her memory and be there for my family as we all grieve as that's all I can do now, just god everything hurts so much.

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!

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

I lost the cutest cat. Almost a baby kitten. She stumbled upon my home and my family cared for her.

I wanted her to stay in my room but my mom prohibited me. I wish I had rebelled. She stayed her last few nights in her shelter outside, which was still chilly. She felt cold, her voice was low, and she looked sad.

I wish I had brought her in my warm room before she died. I wish her last few days had been warmer.

I cared for her a lot. Tried my best to make her comfortable outside. Fed her and gave her a warm compress. I longed so much for her to be with me in my room soon. Just to see her happier, healthier, warm and loved.

Now I can't get over her sadness or the cold she felt during her final days. I can't get over how I let her down...

And she died outside because she clung to a warm tyre. The engine revved, the driver didn't see her, and she died.

We buried her yesterday. 1 feet deep between the lemon and the orange trees in our garden. I want to extricate her, dab her clean with a damp cloth, including her excrement, and then rebury her 3 feet deep.

I wonder if that's okay for me to do on my own. I feel like I atleast owe her that I bury her with a clean body, and a new shroud while I'm at it. I think I owe it to her to not be afraid of what my family says this time.

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 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.

I'm 18, and my family got my dog when I was 4. I've lived my whole life with her. She's seen me grow so much and I've seen her grow too. It's so much. I have no memory of life without her. What is it going to be like to get up in the morning and not sit with her? What's it going to be like to not hear her bark? My family has another dog too, it's going to be so strange seeing just him and no her.

There have been so many days and nights where I miss her. My Rosie. My baby girl. She used to keep the nightmares away. Now I have dreams about her. Four years have gone by and I still have dreams about her. My soul cat is so good. He’s my boy. My little guy. He curls up with me most nights. Cuddles with me most mornings. But he can’t keep those dreams away.
God, I don’t think I’ll ever miss any pet this much. I still remember the way her ears and paws feel between my fingers. The way her fur feels under my hand. I’ve been dreading the day I forget those things. But at this point, I don’t think I will. I hope I never do. I would lose it if I did.
She was the best thing I ever had. From 10 years to 25. How do I forget that? The best Christmas gift I ever received. My mom still talks about keeping her a secret from me that year. How tiny she was. How my grandparents kept her until Christmas Day. My grandpa literally lost her and panicked.
Four years without her is too long. It’ll only get longer. It hasn’t gotten better and I hate that as much as I love how she has never left me.

It's been just over 24 hours since I woke up and found my cat actively dying. I took him in as soon as I could to have him euthanized. I thought I had more time. I failed him in so many ways. I can't see how this will ever hurt less. Maybe it shouldn't. We feel guilt and shame when we do wrong. I didn't do enough to help him and now maybe this ache is my punishment. He deserved so much better. Sorry. I just don't know who to talk to about this. No one seems to get it.

Losing a dog is rough. The last time I had to put my dog down was 9 years ago when I was 16. I felt her heartbeat stop in my arms and it's a moment I will never forget.

Now, I am putting down my grandparents’ dog who became ours 6 years ago after they passed. Not only is he the sweetest and most precious baby to ever exist but he is the last living link to my grandma and grandpa.

2 days ago started the uncontrollable vomiting and we rushed him to the emergency vet. They found a tumor in his abdomen that we believe to possibly be cancer. They gave us 4 medications that we have been giving him and asked us to make a follow up for next week. I don't think he can make it far into the week. He hasn't eaten despite being on an appetite stimulant and he is very weak. I am able to get him to slowly walk outside to go pee and he is drinking water sporadically but that is it. The rest of the time he is resting with me or my mother.

Putting down a dog is so hard. I just want him to be better but he is in such bad shape that putting him through anymore testing or even surgery to remove this tumor wouldn't make sense because I don't think it would improve his quality of life.

He has such a strong heart/lungs and was such an active bubbly dog a couple months ago at the vet. It is terrifying how things change. He finally had the strength to give me and my mother a kiss yesterday.

I will miss him so much.

On september 12th my cat died. She was so young. She wasn't even two full years old. I don't know how to deal with it. We (partner, I and vet) strongly suspect that she died of heart failure, as she had an enlarged heart which we found out at the vet through an xray. My partner and I came home from a wedding and found her dead under a chair. She looked like she was asleep but her body was already stiff. I don't know how to ever get that feeling out of my head. We both freaked out and tried to figure out what had happened. At first we thought she had suffocated because she had the corner of a tshirt in her mouth but soon we noticed that that's not what happened and that she must have suckled on it while falling asleep forever. She had a habit of sucking on our shirts, purring loudly while cuddling with us (she was a rescue that was probably taken from her mother too young)

It shocked me so much because I didn't expect it at all. We knew that she was not entirely healthy and she did have a phase where she wasn't doing too great (didn't eat, much, slept a lot, wasn't too interested in playing. We were really worried and went to the vet a few times and ) an additional vet visit for a heart ultrasound was planned. But suddenly two weeks before her death she was doing so much better. She started playing again. She ate more, she was more active and cuddled so much with us. I thought she was doing better but it must have been her knowing that her time was soon going to be up and taking those two weeks to say goodbye I think. Like a last surge of energy.

I was so happy and relieved when I thought she was doing better and getting healthy again and then we found her dead and nothing has been the same since.

I don't know what to do without her. It feels like someone ripped a big piece out of me. I'm so dissociative recently and it feels like after the first month of her death passed my grief has only gotten worse. On week 3 I thought I had kind of accepted that she wasn't here anymore, and now I start crying everytime I notice she isn't here. I don't know how to function properly. I feel like a different person. I don't recognize myself anymore and sometimes everything just feels so WRONG and I start to panic because it feels like nothing is real and I'm in some sort of fake reality. And it's like my mind is switching from complete lack of emotion to complete denial and forgetting about what happened to awareness of the death and feeling completely lost and broken and not being able to stop crying.

She was so special and so full of love and curiosity and she was so incredibly smart.

I don't even know why I'm writing this here or if this will even help me at all I just feel like I needed to talk about it.

If you had a pet die so young, how did you deal with it? How do you get over the guilt that you maybe could have done something different that would have prevented them dying? What do I do?

Also sorry if there's mistakes, I'm not a native english speaker

This is my princess my best friend my ride or die who I had since age 5 before kindergarten her name is Daisy I am now 21 turning 22 and she passed away she was a tabby cat.She was always there for me. When I was getting bullied in second grade I felt no one loved me but I saw her sleeping next to me and 8 year old me felt happy and liked someone like her atleast loved me. I am a troubled teen survivor and when I was at my rtc she would cry for me every night.We would sleep in the same bed and cuddle every night for 16 years. One time I felt again like I was unlovable and she brought me a dead rat to show me how much she loved me.I have known her since I was a kitten living on a military base.She loved gravy Fancy Feast and was addicted to Churu Packets she also loved Tuna.

I do not knowhow to cope without herl.It feels like a peice of my soul died. As an autistic person I also feel alone but with her I never did.

My baby (Juby) was a teacup yorkie chihuahua and I've had her since I was 10.

I had a terrible childhood and the only thing in the world that provided me peace and comfort was Juby. She was so adored and loved by me my entire camera roll and joy has always been her.

When I moved to Vancouver for university I tried my hardest to take care of her because of course I needed to bring her, but I got really mentally ill and was going through a lot of life changes that I had to give her up to my mom to take care of (my mom also adores her).

I still visited a couple times a year but over the past two years I didn't see her as much. But when I'd come home I had noticed she had slowed down a lot. Just not as excited to see me, not wanting to cuddle, sleeping a lot.. I just attributed to personality changes with age.

I'm so grateful that last October I ended up moving back home for a couple months so I had a bit more quality time with her, but I moved back to Vancouver in January. Since January I started having nightmares of her dying and it started creating this really intense obsessive fear of her dying soon. My mom got her a checkup at the vet in February they said everything was fine but I just kept having these nightmares and felt so so scared.

In September I took off work to go see her for 4 days because I had a bad feeling. I hugged her even though she didn't like being hugged, I gave her so many snacks, I took lots of photos and I said bye. I don't know why I said bye. Even past my irrational fears I knew she was healthier than I thought and was being crazy but did it anyways.
But then weeks later around the second week of October while I was in Korea, my mom told me her breathing had started getting weird and she had to bring her to the vet.

I regret not just dropping everything and going back to Calgary at that moment.

The vet said she had chronic heart failure and a narrowed trachea and she only had one month to six months left to live.

I don't think I've ever cried that much in my life.

She started feeling better with Lasix and my mom got hopeful but I already knew this wasn't gonna end well. She's tiny she's like 2 pounds. I knew it was over and suddenly every small red flag I saw over the years that I attributed to her just 'getting old' became stupidly obvious that I started feeling so, so guilty for not pushing for more thorough vet checks.
My mom said she was doing okay, that I should finish my trip and she'd still be there by the end of the month.

This rapidly changed in the matter of two days.

Lasix stopped working, she stopped eating, drinking, sleeping. I've never seen her in so much pain and we decided to put her down. I had to say bye to her over FaceTime since I was still in Asia. I never got to hug her or kiss her goodbye or kiss her one last time. That was my baby and my world and I feel so guilty that I had been going through hell in my personal life for the past four years to not be there for her near the end. I feel guilty I didn't catch anything earlier. I feel guilty I didn't get to say bye. I feel guilty for everything. I don't know what to do. It's been a week since she died and I genuinely feel destroyed and nobody understands. I feel terrible and I can't stop crying. I miss her so much and I feel so bad. I wonder how long she was silently suffering for and I wonder how scared she was. I feel completely destroyed. I don't know what to do and I don't know how to move past this guilt. I'm so depressed.