The Loss of a Soulmate

A regular Sunday morning. I woke up with my beautiful dog Luca, got ready for walk, took her out for her morning stroll, and noticed her limp and a massive bump on her shoulder.

“Oh, she must’ve dislocated her shoulder,” I had thought to myself, and being the paranoid owner that I am, decided to take her to the emergency vet.

The entire morning at work was of me trying to figure out how she dislocated her shoulder, and what can be done to help her.

When we get to the emergency vet, they took her away from me. As I sat there, a feeling of anxiety washed over me. My heart started racing, my fingers became tingly.

And I knew, right then and there, that it was more than just a dislocated shoulder.

An hour later, the vet walks back in.

My suspicions were true. It was not a dislocation.

It was a tumor.

The world around me closed in, as if I was being suffocated by a balloon. My dog, the only thing that I have left, has a bone tumor.

The time for her to live? Less than two months.

Less than sixty days for her to live on this earth.

Less than sixty days for her to be by my side.