Yesterday Highway passed away. He was eight days shy of his 15th birthday.
The vet told us they could not help him and we would have to make a decision by the end of this week. My husband had one final request and convinced me to let Highway go with him in the truck for their final trip together. He promised me he would take good care of him so I reluctantly said okay knowing that I would not be able to spend time with Highway this week. HIghway loved being with my husband in the truck and for many years they traveled together and Highway was a great companion. We retired him about 5 yrs ago and has been home until this past Sunday when we wrapped him up in his favorite blanket and he went on the road one more time. My husband said he seemed very happy to be with him in the truck and my husband talked to him constantly and made hiim comfortable. My husband loved thier time together-it was like old times. He was holding Highway and told him he was happy he was with him once again and petted him for a while. He layed him down on his blanket and within 30 minutes Highway had passed. He started traveling with my husband when he was 8 wks old and I know that in my heart that he was exactly where he wanted to be when he passed with my husband and in the truck. He was a Bichon/Shih Tzu and was a very handsome dog. He was smart, loving and above all a devoted dog. We will miss him each and every day and are thankful for having him so many years and are blessed to have him be a major part of our family. He was the best!

— Margaret from Mt. Jackson, VA

I wanted to share my anguish over the loss of the most beautiful, lovable ShihTzu, TeeKee, that I’ve owned. He was a Jolie Hallmark with champion blood. I had to put him to rest 3 weeks ago. He had just celebrated his 9th birthday! Much too young for a Tzu to die but he had serious health problems since age 3. We had him at a veterinary hospital in hope that he could have surgery, but after many tests, it was decided that all that was possible had been done for him. He was in much pain, so I chose to put him to rest.

— Carol from Toledo, OH

Tommy is a 24lb Main Coon. He came into my life in 2003 when I started my design company. My then wife, Denise, brought him and his sister, Lilly into our home. Tommy is like no other animal I’ve ever had. He sleeps with me every night and talks up a storm every morning. Where I go – he follows. He weighs over 24lbs and it’s not fat. My wife died on July 25th, 2010 at age 38 from liver failure. Even though we divorced in 2007, we still were close. Tommy is there for me in her absence, and both he and his sister, Lilly are constant reminders of how things used to be. Tommy is just an incredible cat – and his vet said, “If every cat was like this, everybody would have one.”

— Tommy from Weston, FL

Sandy was a 10-year-old Pug who developed a variety of medical problems around age 6. It’s a complicated story but, like your Griffen, she lost so much function in her back legs that I had to carry her in and out of the house, up and down the stairs, into and out of bed. She was incontinent too and I changed her diapers hundreds of times over the last few years.

Caring for her was often like caring for an invalid relative; but she was amazing because, in spite of her challenges, she loved life and she demanded to be at the center of all household activity! If I was making dinner, she’d drag herself out to the kitchen and deposit herself right in the middle. If I was working at my desk, she’d make her way over and lie next to me. If I went upstairs, she barked with annoyance until I came back down to her. Sandy would NOT be ignored! She demanded attention; but I loved her spirit and her determination to live her life, no matter what.

In late July, it became very hot and humid in New Jersey and of course, that’s when my central air broke down. Pugs don’t like heat anyway, and when the house warmed up to 83 degrees, Sandy was panting. My other, younger, healthy Pug, Cocoa, panted too, but not as much as Sandy. It took a couple of days to get the air fixed (it needed a part); but other than panting, Sandy seemed fine, going outside, eating and drinking and interacting.

Late the second day without central air, I thought, “Let me just call the vet and see if this is OK, if there’s anything I should be doing for her.” I spoke to the vet and he said not to worry, that dogs sweat by panting, that I could put an ice pack on her or take her down to the basement or wipe her paws with alcohol. She didn’t feel hot, but I put ice packs under her bed so she’d have a cool place to lie down.

I was hot and tired myself from the lack of A/C, so I decided to lie down on the couch after dinner for a little cat nap. As I drifted off I noticed that finally, Sandy wasn’t panting; I thought she must be feeling more comfortable. In about 30 minutes I got up and went out to run a quick errand. When I came back, things were quiet. I thought Sandy was sleeping, but I decided to check on her. I looked at her and she looked so peaceful, like she was napping. But she wasn’t moving at all, not even breathing. I called my son and he looked at her too and I called my other Pug Cocoa and he wouldn’t go near her. Sandy was obviously dead. I scooped her up in a blanket and drove her to the emergency vet, crying all the way there; but there was nothing they could do.

To this day, when I think of Sandy, I’m still so sad. I think that there must have been something that I could have done to save her, that if I had just taken her to a cool house for a couple of days, she’d still be alive. I did so much for her in her last few years, but I’m afraid that I allowed her to die when I could have saved her. I feel that she would still be here if I had done the right thing for her. I can’t get over feeling partly responsible for her death, even though the vet told me the next day that she undoubtedly had underlying cardiac issues (she was also diabetic) that we didn’t know about.

Even though Sandy died “naturally,” I still feel that she’d be alive today if I’d done something differently for her; she depended on me, and I let her down. It still hurts.

— Fran from Cedar Grove, NJ

three years ago, I lost my mother to lung cancer. My dog Reese had bonded with her. We snuck Reese into the hospital to see her. She would climb all over the bed, then lick my mother’s face. Mom smiled and loved every minute. She was in hospice at our home for her last couple of weeks. Reese was with her and announced the moment of her passing with one shrill bark across the house.

Reese then became caregiver for my grieving father.

They too bonded. Reese visited dad in the hospital earlier this year as he was dying of pneumonia. They were so happy to see each other.

These days she comforts their grieving son.

— Robert from McKinney, TX

We were blessed to have 13 years with our beloved golden retriever Trusty. He was a loyal companion who loved us unconditionally. He loved to chase the ball and go to the lake! He rode on the boat and couldn’t wait to go swimming! You had to watch him to make sure he didn’t roll on a dead fish! You couldn’t hook up the boat without him being ready to go! There is a maker on his grave that reads: if tears could build a stairway and memories a lane I would build one up to heaven to bring you home again.

— Connie from Wolfe City, TX