I will never forget that call. The call I received that I didn’t take seriously enough. The call where my mom told me you had stopped eating, you wouldn’t play, and you were crying in your sleep. I just thought, “You’re sick, I’ll take you to the vet and you’ll be all better.” I thought you had four years left with me. I was wrong.

That weekend, days later, I went home to see for myself what your condition was. I could see the pain in your eyes. The way you walked, you couldn’t move without falling every few steps. You wouldn’t eat the treats that you used to stand by the kitchen door for until I gave you one. You wouldn’t eat carrots from the fridge, or grapes - your favorite snacks. When you laid with me on the couch that last night, you cried in your sleep. I saw exactly why mom was worried. Then, I was worried.

The next day, I took you to the vet. I could tell you where in pain. When I took you outside to go to the bathroom, you couldn’t walk down the stairs to even go on your own. I had to carry you. What hurt the most was the fact that I thought you still had a chance to play in the fenced in backyard of the brand new house we moved into. The fenced yard was for you to play in since you’d never had one before. Now, you couldn’t even enjoy it.

I picked you up and carried you to the passenger seat of my car. You didn’t want to look out the window like you used to. You laid on your stomach with your legs extended in front of you, shaking from the amount of unbearable pain you felt. I petted you and talked to you the whole way to the vet, assuring you that you’d be okay and you were going to feel better soon.

When we got to the vet, you didn’t move and bark at the other dogs like you normally would. You laid in my lap curled up in a ball with your head against my stomach. I tried hard not to cry, that wasn’t you. When they weighed you, I cried a bit harder. You’d lost two pounds, which is a lot for a dog as small as you.

When it was your turn, I carried you into the room and laid you on the tall metal table. You used to try to jump off of it into my arms. You wouldn’t let me stand an inch away from you. This time, you laid on the table. You didn’t bother to move. When the vet felt you, she instantly knew what was wrong. You had a tumor under your bladder. A cancerous one. She said you wouldn’t have survived another night, and your death would not have been painless at all. It hurt me, knowing how much of a sweet and innocent creature, animal, and family member you were, to be feeling this type of pain. I wasn’t going to give up, though. I wanted to know for sure what was happening, so I took you to the pet hospital.

My mom warned me that you may die. I didn’t want to believe it. The hospital vet told us both the same thing the vet did, that there was a cancerous tumor under your bladder. When we went into the room, they took you back behind a door for ten minutes and came out to ask us if we wanted to see the tumor. She had you laying on another metal table, spraying stuff on your belly while you were laying down on your side, showing us on a screen what your tumor looked like, and how large it was.

The tumor was four inches wide. As big as your liver. It was filled with blood pockets that, if touched in the slightest way incorrectly, would have popped and caused internal bleeding throughout your organs. The vet gave us some options.

Let you die at home.

Attempt a $7,000 surgery that, at your age, you wouldn’t have survived.

Take you out for a few hours of fun and bring you back to be put down.

Or, my least favorite, do it right then and there to minimize the suffering.

It took a lot of convincing to decide what was best, but I didn’t want you in any more pain. I decided to take a little time and then do it then and there. So, the vet let us take you back into the small room and spend some quality time with you until we were ready.

She brought in some chicken and a chocolate cupcake for you to eat. I didn’t think you would touch it, but you scarfed them both down. After that, you slept on my lap for hours. I fell asleep holding you. My mom woke me up and told me I had to decide when it was time for you. I stalled for another hour before she said I had to do it soon. I couldn’t decide, though. I couldn’t make the decision about when it was time for you to die. I didn’t want to. So, she had to.

The vet came in and asked me how we wanted to do this, with you on the table, or in one of our arms. I adopted you when I was one and you laid on my lap the whole way home, and I wanted you in my arms in our last moments like you were during our first. I know you would have wanted that, too. The vet explained the three injections she would be giving you. The first to put you into a deep sleep, the second to stop your brain, which would then stop your heart.

I kissed you on the forehead and hugged you really hard. I told you you’d feel better soon, and that I loved you. To say hi to grandpa for me, and not to forget about me.

The first injection went in. You fell asleep with your eyes open, in my arms. Then the vet looked at me and we both nodded.

Second injection in.

As she slowly injected it, I held back tears, It didn’t take long though before I completely lost it, realizing just exactly what was happening. I didn’t think you wouldn’t be coming back home with me that day. I didn’t think you were dying, or that you had cancer. All of our memories flashed through my mind at once. The memories us us making forts together when I was five, of you fall asleep with your neck on my neck, camping out together in the tent, driving around together, how expected you were to see me every day when I came home from school, all of it. You were such a trooper over the years, so strong. You endured life with me through it all, through my tough childhood, through my parents divorce, through being bullied at school, through my anxiety and depression, during the times when I was scared, lonely, and sick, you were always there for me. You were the most stable thing I’d ever really had.

And now, I was alone.

Worse than that, you were no longer here to endure life by my side. I was told you were so healthy months before, that you could live to be four years older - 22.

I felt guilty for not being able to see it sooner, for not being able to save you. There were so many times when I thought I was going to lose you and you always pulled through. Not this time, though.

I could feel your heart stop beating, and I then realized it wasn’t my best friend I was holding anymore, just his body.

I questioned my religion that day. How long it took you to pass. If you could see me sitting there, holding your body and crying. If dogs really go to heaven. I decided they do.

After holding your body for a little bit longer, I gave you to the vet. She asked if we wanted her to walk away first with your body, or if we wanted to leave first. We agreed to leave first. That was the last time I saw you.

I remember holding you, and after you passed, I recall not even feeling your body go limp. You were in that much pain. I have been through alot, but losing you was, and still is, by far the hardest. In a world where I felt comfort knowing that somewhere, you were there loyally waiting for me to come home, I understand now that I am here without you for good until I die. You were amazing. Dogs are all amazing, but you truly understood. You could feel my pain, my hurt, my sorrow over the years and you comforted me through it. You loved me unconditionally. Not just as a dog, but I saw it in your eyes every time you looked at me. We did everything together and I’m so lucky that out of every dog in the world I was so lucky as to have had you. I will always love animals and especially dogs, but nothing will ever replace you and the love you made me feel. The hole in my heart is indescribable, and in placement until I see you again.

I will always miss the way you would run to the door when I came home with your tail wagging and you’d stretch your back on my legs. I will always miss the way you would stop on our walks and gently smell the flowers, or really anything. I will always miss when you’d stand in the closet until I gave you a treat. Or the way you’d stand by the couch until I picked you up and set you by me. The way you curled up into a ball on my stomach no matter how old or big you got. How you saved us once from burglars, and how you one time ate an entire pizza when I fell asleep watching a movie.

I hope now you can live pain free, and watch over me until we reunite again. You truly were, and always will be, my best friend.

Xoxo Sam.