It was Friday afternoon when I realized it. I looked into his eyes and I could see that he was just….tired.

It wasn’t unexpected. He was 13. He’d had a rough year, health wise. But somehow, even when I was sure it was the end, he’d always bounced back. He’d always still had a tail wag ready, up for a stroll around the park, or perhaps a few bites of that steak I was eating if I didn’t think I could finish it all. Hell, not even a month before (Oct 24th to be exact) I shot a video of him playing fetch and marveled at how thankful I was that I had the opportunity to do that after the year he had had.

But that Friday….I knew. I called the vet the next day, the soonest they could make the appointment was for Monday.

It was my brother’s birthday weekend, and I felt really bad about cancelling plans, but I’m glad I did – he went downhill so fast. By Saturday he couldn’t eat. By Sunday he couldn’t stand. Sunday night, he couldn’t even drink water. On Monday, when I put him in the car, for the first time in 13 years of car rides, he did not stand up & look out the window – he curled up & slept. My vet was doing curbside drop off….when I tearfully insisted I had to come in the vet came out and asked when he had gotten bad….I just babbled about him not being able to walk and she led me around the back. I carried him in my arms because he was so light…she commented that he looked so thin.

It happened really fast…she laid him down on a bed, and I sat there petting him while he went to sleep, and then slipped away. I remember sitting there thinking it seems like it just could not be possible that he was gone……and then he was.

And so, on November 9th, 2020, I lost the best dog I’ve ever known.

I’m obviously incredibly sad, but at the same token, we had 12 years together (he was a year when I got him) and they were wonderful years…he was a once-in-a-lifetime dog and I feel so lucky I got to share that lifetime with him.