I loved him immediately, the big goofy boy.
LET ME SING YOU MY SONG OF SORROW AND DESIREE
1. Bonking open doors with zero regard for his own safety
2. The way he almost always sat back a step or two
3. The waterfall that would start whenever he was waiting to eat.
That was the first video I have of him from last Thursday, around 3PM, when I knew I was going to have to keep a promise I'd made to him all those months ago when he first had an aggressive incident: that if we couldn't help him, I wouldn't let him be alone.
So for the rest of that afternoon I stayed glued to his side, giving him treats and snuggles and playing with him. I filled his kongs and gave them to him until we had no more peanut butter and it didn't feel like enough.
I told him over and over again what a good boy he was and how much I loved him and did anything and everything I thought he would want to do. Apologies for the audio in the rest of these, I'm either crying or on the verge of it for all of them.
I made sure to get some kisses and nibbles from him and to play and always, always to tell him how good and loved he was.
I'm going to think about those minutes on that bed holding him and shaking and loving him and wishing I was god because all I fucking wanted was to make this not happen, to not have to say goodbye, & he just blithely kissed me and snuggled & he was so fucking good.
I'll never forget every detail of his death, I hope that some day soon I can stop seeing it when I lay down to sleep, but the thing that matters is I kept my promise and he wasn't alone.
I held his paw and knew that the world was changed and that I was changed and that it wasn't fair and nothing is fair and that there's so many people and animals suffering so much worse and I just fell apart for a while.
His name was Bruce. He loved playing and walking and talking and peanut butter and ice cubes and comfy blankets and hiding behind curtains and interrupting work and flailing and snuggling and kissing and eating and singing his warbling song.