r/PetPsychics

I held his head in my hands until I couldn't feel his heartbeat anymore. The vet said something — I don't remember what — and then the room was just... quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your ears ring.

Cooper was 13. I got him from a shelter when he was 2 — he was the dog nobody wanted because he was "too big" and "too old." His shelter card said "Labrador mix, nervous." He spent the first three days in my apartment hiding behind the couch. On the fourth day, I woke up and he was sleeping on the left side of my bed. That was his spot for the next 11 years.

He had this thing where he couldn't greet anyone without bringing them something. A toy, a sock, once a piece of broccoli he found somewhere (I still don't know where). He'd just stand there, tail going crazy, holding whatever he found like it was the most important gift in the world. My friends all knew — if Cooper didn't bring you something, he wasn't done saying hello.

The last year was hard. His back legs started giving out. I put rugs on every inch of hardwood floor because he'd slip otherwise. He couldn't do stairs anymore, so I moved my bedroom downstairs. My living room basically became a dog hospice — beds everywhere, a ramp to the backyard, medication schedule taped to the fridge.

But his eyes never changed. They were the same eyes that watched me through three jobs, one divorce, and countless late nights when he was the only living thing in the room. He was always just... there. Silent, steady, head on my knee.

Three weeks ago he stopped being able to get up on his own. I'd lift him — all 75 pounds — and carry him outside. He'd do his business, look at me like he was apologizing, and I'd carry him back in. The vet said it was time to think about "quality of life."

I hate that phrase. How do you measure a dog's quality of life? By the number of tail wags per day? By whether he still perks up when you say "walk"? Cooper wagged his tail until the very last morning. But he also hadn't eaten in two days and his breathing was getting labored at night.

We made the appointment for a Thursday. I spent Wednesday lying on the floor next to his bed, feeding him pieces of cheeseburger (the vet said he could have anything). He ate the whole thing. For about ten minutes I convinced myself he was getting better and I was making a terrible mistake.

I wasn't. He just really liked cheeseburgers.

The vet came to the house — I couldn't bear taking him to a clinic. He was on his bed, on the left side (his side), and I was on the floor next to him. His head was in my hands the whole time. I kept telling him he was a good boy, the best boy, and that I was sorry.

I still don't know what I'm sorry for exactly. Sorry that dogs don't live longer. Sorry that I couldn't fix his legs. Sorry that I had to make this decision at all.

It's been four days. I still put food in his bowl this morning before I caught myself. His leash is still hanging by the door — I can't bring myself to move it.

The weirdest part is the silence. Cooper wasn't a loud dog, but he made sounds — his nails on the floor, his deep sigh when he flopped down, that little whine he did when he wanted up on the couch. The house without him sounds wrong. Like someone hit mute on the world.

I don't really know why I wrote this. I guess I just needed to tell people who get it. Most of my friends have been kind but they don't really understand why I'm this destroyed over a dog.

For those of you who've been through this — does the guilt ever go away? The second-guessing? I keep replaying that last week over and over, wondering if I waited too long or not long enough.

And what did you do with their things? His bed is still in the living room. I can't look at it. But I can't move it either.

If you made it this far, thank you. And if you're going through this right now too — I don't have any advice. But you're not alone in it.

My new cat, Banjo, has been distressed lately - not playing, sleeping a lot, feeling and looking upset.. i didnt know what caused it. The most recent event that (maybe?) could have potentially caused it was Friday, my boyfriend, Jason, came and visited. Banjo doesn't really love my boyfriend, but there never seemed to be anything concerning about his behavior. So, Friday night, Banjo pushed the door open while I was making love to my boyfriend.... and Banjo immediately ran off and hid. I dont think he's ever seen that before and I'm afraid I've traumatized him. What do I do ?? Is it my fault? How can I fix it?