Does Anyone Else Feel This Way?

It is 4:30 and I should be going home from work in about an hour. Yet, I don't want to go home. It's not that I love work or anything, it's just that I have a lot to do and can take my mind off of things here. When I go home, it's like walking into a vacuum devoid of my sweet little companion. I have no desire to do a thing once I walk in the door. I can't watch TV because I keep thinking that Jake should be stretched out on the floor in front of the vent, hogging all of the A/C. If I work on my computer, I instinctively reach for him with my feet (he used to dig around under my desk while I worked). I haven't been in the back yard since he left. I haven't washed a dish (not that I've really dirtied any dishes in the last couple of days) because Jake used to lie in the doorway to the kitchen and watch me. The load of laundry I started before I took him to the hospital is still in the washer. I hate going to bed because he's not trotting along side me, ready for bedtime.

But, I have to go home because I don't really feel like going anywhere or doing anything enjoyable.

Is anyone else sickened by the thought of going home?

My Sweet Little Jake

I've been reading this forum since Monday (July 10) when I had to euthanize my dear little terrier/beagle, Jake. I really haven't had the heart to post anything until today, but I have been touched by the support that strangers in cyberspace have shared with fellow grieving humans who have lost their furkids. And, I want to offer my empathy to those who are going through what my family has gone through, too.

My sweet boy was just 9 years old and seemed fine until last weekend when he became a little lethargic and lost his appetite. He had been like this maybe two times in his life--one time he had to have his &%^ glands expressed (or something like that), and he was fine, and the other time was two weeks ago, but he perked up quickly and I just attibuted it to a cold or an off day.

This time, he just kept getting worse, he could barely go up or down stairs, and his urine was brown, so I took him to an emergency care center. They said that his abdomen was hard, but they would need to run tests to find out what was wrong. The poor little guy was running a 103 temp. They told me to leave him overnight and call the next morning if I didn't hear anything. It hurt just to leave them there with strangers.

An hour after I left, the emergency vet called to tell me Jake had a splenic tumor and I had few options. I was absolutely shocked. I knew he was sick, but I didn't think he was dying-sick. She mentioned surgery but said his life expectancy even with surgery and chemo would be just months, probably.

I decided I needed to wait until the next morning (Monday) to take him to his regular vet, who confirmed the diagnosis. I was in agony over making the decision to euthanize, but when I saw my vet with tears in her eyes, I pretty much knew what I had to do. She said she didn't want to give us false hope about the outcome of surgery, and if we took him home, he would die of internal bleeding, which is a horrible way to go.

He's now buried on my parents' property with beloved pets from my childhood. It is so hard to go home to my empty house (he has been with me ever since I bought the house) because everything reminds me of him.

Over the past few days, the crying has come in spurts, but it has really helped to talk to coworkers, family, and friends about everything that happened. It also helped to write a note to my vet, who was so wonderful, gentle, and caring on Jake's last day. Still, I am completely heartbroken at the untimely passing of my buddy.