We adopted Max at 8 years old from our local shelter and never have I had a deeply loving cat like him. Never a hiss or scratch or anger...just love. All of our cats have been the best yet somehow Max crawled even deeper into my heart.
So my heart shattered this morning when he laid his head on my hand and went to sleep forever. I was able to be kissing him on the head the whole time.
I know my days will be deeply sad without him.
You deserved so much better, Ro ro. I love you. You taught Poppy how to live with and love other dogs without fear. We are so grateful for the short and complicated time that we had you. You were an angel. You are with mom and dad now. Rest easy.
It’s been exactly a year since I had to make the hardest decision of my life—for my childhood companion, my soul buddy.
I miss you more than words can hold.
If it had been about me, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second—but this was about you, and I did what was right, even though it broke me.
That was the moment I truly understood what it means to be helpless—when life simply says
"This is it"
and all you can do is face it.
As dog owners, we always fight, always search for another way, always try to give our fur buddies the very best.
But this time… there was no way left to find.
I know you’re still out there somewhere, and I hold onto the thought that one day I’ll see you again.
My old friend.
My shadow.
My quiet, perfect silence.
Gone, but never forgotten.
I miss my old boy so much it hurts. His name was Sydney.
He was a Bichon Poodle mix, a rescue. I had him for 11 years. He was about 13 when he passed suddenly on August 29th, 2025.
Today is April 6th.
That’s 220 days without him.
I wasn’t there when he died.
I was able to say goodbye to him over the phone, and I know that was something… but it doesn’t feel like enough. It still burns. I think it always will.
Sydney loved hot dogs. I gave him one every single day. I don’t buy hot dogs anymore. I can’t.
He used to bury his head into the blanket and press himself against me like he was trying to get as close as possible. He slept like that, right next to me, every night. I don’t sleep the same anymore either.
He had this soft, curly coat. And when I gave him belly rubs, he made this high little whistle through his nose. I’ve never heard another dog make that sound. It was his. Only his.
And now it’s gone.
I don’t just miss him. I miss the way my life moved with him in it. The small, ordinary things that didn’t feel important at the time but were everything.
Now I notice all the space he used to fill.
I couldn’t be there at the end.
Even with the phone call, I’m still carrying that. I don’t know how to set it down.
It’s been seven months and I still cry every day when I think about him. Sometimes it comes out of nowhere. Sometimes it never really leaves. There hasn’t been a day where I haven’t felt it.
If anyone else has gone through losing them and not being there, I would really like to know how you live with that part. Because I’m still trying to figure it out.
I love you, my curly Q.
You were my boy.
You still are.