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Last year I almost died. I was severly malnourished and my Doctor's were truly surprised that I was still alive. Even my Optometrist warned me that I was dieing. One of my doctor's referred me to a treatment center for an eating disorder. The week I went, I was supposed to watch my dogs while my parents were gone. I love my dogs more than life itself, and my first dog Buck, was my whole world and so it killed me that I had to leave him. I was constantly on the brink of going into a coma and my feet were blue. My body looked vacuum sealed. As I was in treatment, Buck was my main motivation to get better. I was getting ready to discharge and I was on a pass to get my apartment ready for discharge. Buck was acting sick but was still playing until the Sunday before I discharged. I got the most earth shattering, gut wrenching call. My mom was crying and told me Buck has cancer and the vet recommended to put him down. She that they could try to go in immediate surgery but the chances of him surving was incredibly low and I knew that I had to be with him adn I would've regretted the surgery. I called someone to pick me up to take me so i could be there for him. It was raining outside and i collapsed to the ground, screaming in absolute agony. I called my dad and it was the only time I've ever heard him cry.
I get to the vet, and I got his final tail wag, he could barely keep his head up. I let out a horrible cry as I watched the vet put him down. He felt my love literally until his dieing breath. My only comfort was that he knew I would always be there no matter how difficult it was. I stand up so they could take his body out and I collapsed. I was inconsolable. I went back to treatment and I wanted to undo all of my progress. "What is the point if he's gone?" I was finally able to shift my thoughts to "I have to maintain recovery otherwise that time in treatment that could've been spent with him was for nothing."
I'm coming up on a year since he passed away. May was his birthday month, and it's also the month he died. I have a hard time celebrating stuff now. For any holiday, he was the focal point because of how excited he would get. Always used them as opportunities to spoil him. Our other dog doesn't care for that stuff. This last year has been about trying to get through all of the firsts of him not being here.
I felt love from my family was conditional, but the love that him and I have is the opitamy of unconditional love. There's is not a single thing or person that I love more than him. Even with him not physically here, I still love him most.
I tried to good in his name to ease the pain I feel. It's kept me on track in my recovery. I always spent hundreds on his Christmas presents so I still shopped for stuff, but I donated it to the animal shelter we got adopted him from in his name. I have the means for 2 dogs so I also rescued another dog. I have always told myself that when he would eventually die, that is his way of closing the book on his wonderful life to allow another dog in need to be taken care of. I love both of my dogs so so much, but Buck was just my boy.
When I saw Buck take his last breath, I felt half of myself leave with it. I felt all of my happiness fleet. I've slowly gained back some of my happiness, but it was a very specific type of happiness that I know I won't feel again. I feel his spirit with me, but sometimes I get an overwhelming urge to pet him... and I can't. The still feel the same pain, but I've gotten better at coping. He is my Baby Buck, we gave each other the BEST 10 years, and we love each other in life, death, spirit, and afterlife. I am happy that he is at peace, and not in any pain. Having to make that decision to put him down was hard and horrible, but I love him too much to watch him suffer.
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