All I can think about is how I failed him in every meaningful way possible and as hard as he fought to live, I decided he should stop.
I feel like I killed a piece of me, there was something different about being around him that's been gone since the moment I schedule to have him put down. I had a tough time mustering the words to confirm the appointment and the patients name and from that point on I've felt hollow like I lost part/all of my soul or something.
I can't focus on the positive, I see how much I took him for granted and didn't lift a finger to help him when I saw signs he was sick. I did the bare minimum to keep him alive until him being alive made me feel bad and from that moment on I've felt heartless. I let him suffer the last month+ in hopes he'd die in his sleep or at least of natural causes but last week was rough and watching him not eat and still get bloated and pass out vomiting blood was too much. I called at 6am to schedule first available time to have him killed. I rushed him from the bed to the hospital as fast as possible trying to avoid him having a horrible death, thinking it was any moment now. I could have schedule a later time and spent a few hours driving him to old places we hung out, but all I could do is open the door and I was really nervous about giving him any sign this was the end.
I think he knew when we left but I was just a zombie ignoring him by just going with the motions to "get it done". Straight from the hospital to dig his grave but something said to wait 3 days to buy him and now that he's in the ground it's sinking in, no miracles are going to reunite us in my lifetime.
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from Pets https://www.reddit.com/r/Pets/comments/f7wzvo/how_do_you_get_over_having_a_companion_killed/
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