Over the last month our family has been challenged. Our younger great dane Ox, who is notorious for eating things he shouldn't, finally ate something that required surgery. A McDonald's emoji toy. The surgery went well and he was recovering well. Then two weeks later he ate two hand puppets and had to have another surgery. It seemed to be going well at first but on day three he just wasn't doing well. After 24 hours of watching him get worse we decided to do another surgery. That surgery discovered a festering abdomen full of rejection sites, injection, and necrotic tissue. Our vet who we love dearly and trust completely told us we should let him go. I raced home to get Karl (so much so that I got pulled over by a highway patrol who when he saw me hysterically crying yelled at me to slow down and hurry up at the same time) and we headed to the clinic to hold on to Ox while we let him go. 
Then we headed home to wait to tell to Evin. Evin screamed "No!" and melted. After sitting there in with a sad face for a while he started frantically looking around the house for a picture of Ox so we spent an hour at the computer looking through and printing out our favorite pictures of Ox.
That night I read all the comments from Facebook to Evin and he sobbed knowing how many people "loved Ox and miss him."
The last three days I have spent hours curled up in a ball crying, wishing he could come back, longing for him. Then feeling guilty that he was just a dog and other people are missing grandparents, parents, children, siblings, friends, and family members. My friend Ashley said this, "I think loss hurts the same whether it's an animal or a human family member. It's awful."
Evin said yesterday, "I miss Ox. We're never going to have him again."
I said, "He's always with us in our hearts. That's why our hearts hurt so much right now."
My friend An left this message on my Facebook wall: "A good dog never dies, he always stays, he walks besides you on crisp autumn days when frost is on the fields and winter's drawing near, his head within our hand in his old way." - Anonymous
Here's hoping time really does help to heal all wounds and that we can remember how lucky we were to spend 7 years with such an awesome animal, even if we had to lose him sooner than we think is fair.
7 years of him breaking up cat fights.
7 years of him gently licking faces to say hello or remind you he was there "oxy cleaning".
7 years of him holding you down in bed.
7 years of him eating pacifiers, diapers, socks, toys, lego tires, food, and anything else that looked interesting.
7 years of him running wildly around the backyard or sofas while Evin called him wild cheetah.
7 years of his rumbling growl when danger was near even if danger was blowing leaf or a friendly neighbor. Evin called him our ninja dog.
7 years of sleeping like tetris pieces.
7 years of getting to walk alongside a gentle giant.
Goodbye buddy. We miss you everyday.
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