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Scully, my rock for the last 12 years, died this morning. She had been acting strange since Weds, and I took her for an emergency vet visit, but they couldn't find anything and said to just keep an eye on her and gave me some medicine. She was back to mostly normal yesterday, and I was thinking maybe at her age the weather changes were bothering her like they do me. She was acting strange again this morning, and breathing so heavy I could hear her in the master bedroom from the living room. She refused a piece of turkey with her meds. I put her collar and leash on to take her to the vet, and with great effort she got up on her front legs. When she tried to lift her hindquarters up, she fell over, and I pretty much lost it. I carried her to the car, and drove to the vet. They found a tumor on her spleen and signs that it had ruptured. The decision was made to end her suffering. Scully got me through the two roughest events of my life, and now she is gone for the third. I miss her so much. She was a funny energetic dog that people still mistook for a puppy on walks, and she was also very sweet. This has been one of the worst days of my life. She was so energetic that I expected her to be around for several more years. I rescued her as a puppy shortly after moving out on my own, and she has been there for my entire adult life, through the good times and bad. I keep thinking I hear her moving in another room in the house and I have to remind myself that she is gone. When ever I'm upset, I would call her and pet her for a bit, and it would calm me back down. I keep almost calling her to come help me feel better, which just makes it worse. Don't really know where to end this. I posted this on FB earlier and wanted to let my friends know that aren't on there.
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