Frank died 6/7/19.
I'm still in pain.
I knew it would be bad, he was my best friend. He was my patient. He was my dog.
I was his person.
Making that decision was hard, but I decided that day it was going to happen. I still begged the doctor to check to make sure I was making the right decision. Part of me wanted the vet to say, "He has a few more days in him, don't do it yet." But, the vet didn't say that. The vet said it was a good time.
I hurt inside. I feel guilty for not trying to wait it out a bit more. Frank was the comeback King. He would be doing bad, and then magically he would get better. Maybe, deep down I knew he wasn't going to get better. I also knew, although he wasn't in pain while at the vet, the night before was awful. It hurt me to hear and see my dog struggling to catch his breath and stop coughing. I knew it hurt him. I couldn't chance him having another awful gut wrenching night like that again.
Regardless, it still feels sad to think about that day.
It hurts to come home to nothing.
It was the worst day of my life. I love him so much, I'm having a hard time coping. Sure, I have good moments. I also "try" to do things. Otherwise, I just lay around and sleep (or try to sleep).
AB says its still new. He says its just been one week. That little booger was my soulmate. I wish I could have him back. I wish I could tell him again how much I love him. I wish I could pet him and hold him again. The loss of a loved one is not easy. I never knew how hard it was going to be.
And now, i'm crying again over it.
I just wish I can gain entrance into heaven one day so I can meet up with my Frankie again.
I promised I would be a better person so I can see him again. I must keep that promise, he means the world to me.
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