I'm going to talk about what happened to me over the past few days, and it might be hard for some of you to read so consider this a trigger warning.

About 36 hours ago, I lost my best friend of 5 and a half wonderful years. He was only 6.

Wednesday I gave him a pig ear. He loved them as treats, and had eaten them plenty if times before. But for some reason this time it caused an upset stomach, and he had some diarrhea and then began retching some time early Thursday morning. He had been fine all of Wednesday evening, and even up on my bed that night to cuddle as I fell asleep, which was our normal routine.

Thursday morning I noticed he was panting, and retching. I decided to make him some chicken and rice to help settle his tum, and I took him to the park to see if he was interested in a romp or at least eating some grass (where I live, it is uncommon for people to have grass in their yards. It's too hot and consumed too much water. Most yards are rocks and cactuses.)

When we got back to the house, even though he hadnt been running, his panting had increased. His tongue seemed pale, almost a light purple but not quite yet, and he was drooling a lot. He tried to drink some water, but retched it right up. I took him straight to his veterinarian to get checked out, fearing a piece of the pig ear had lodged itself in his throat.

They referred me to an emergency critical care clinic two hours away, saying he wasnt getting enough oxygen and there was nothing they could do for him here in our small town. When I tell you I flew there, I mean I drove as fast as I could legally go all the way there, talking to him and telling my best guy just how much I love him, and how we had many many many years ahead of us.

He made it, and I told him I love him as they took him from me (I wadnt allowed inside because of covid) and I sat in the parking lot for three hours while they ran xrays and tests and everything they could on my boy. They said he had a diaphragmatic hernia, a tear in his diaphragm, and that his stomach liver and intestines were in his chest cavity, crushing his lungs. I made the decision to operate, knowing it was risky and that he would have a long recovery ahead of him, but that he could basically have a normal life if that was the only problem.

When they opened him up, they found that he had in fact been born with so little diaphragm tissue that it was going to be difficult to repair, and even more difficult to recover from. They also found that his liver had formed in his chest cavity, and there was no way to relocate it to his abdomen, and that meant there was no way to create a synthetic diaphragm for him because it would always have a hole, and this issue would happen again and again and again.

They said based on their findings, he had always had these issues, it was simply a matter of time before they reared their ugly heads like this. He was lucky to have had 6 wonderful years of life, they said they were completely shocked.

So I made the decision. The risks of expansion edema and stomach organ trauma plus the guarantee of a long painful and risky recovery just weren't worth the months and years of suffering plus high likelihood of a repeat of this condition for my best friend, and so I asked them to close him up and please to allow me in the back to hold him as he went. They were gracious enough to allow me that goodbye.

I held him until his heart stopped beating. I told him how his feet always stank like fritos, and how I would take such good care of myself and his brother. How his grandma loved him, and was crying back at home knowing it was his time. I told him how he could finally see our old Mastiff again, and the two elderly fosters my mom had had since, all of whom he became best friends with.

And I kissed him on his nose and rubbed his face and squeezed his paws until the vet confirmed he was gone.

Waking up without him the next morning was the second hardest this I had to do. The first hardest has been watching my 2 year old dog mope around the house, searching in every corner, looking for his big brother (who he had known since he was 6 weeks old and had never been apart from).

I feel I gave him the best fighting chance I could. They said most dogs with this severity of issue have problems long before they make it to "years". There was just no way to fix it safely and keep his quality of life the same.

We always ran and played and went to the river, and I spent yesterday looking at old photos and videos of him and his brother. I will always cherish our memories.

So please, for me and from my best guy's little brother who is also in a severe mourning period... hug your boys and girls tightly. Go on that extra long run when they dont seem they want to stop, take all the pictures you can even if they wont pose for you, give them the extra cookie they're begging for, take them on that car ride. At least for today.

Love them like there is no tomorrow, because everything can change in a short instant, and there might not be.