I’ve been quiet the past couple of days, but I feel ready to share something deeply personal. On [insert date], I lost my sweet boy, Frisky. He was almost 15 years old and had been my everything for so long. He wasn’t “just a dog” — he was family, my shadow, my comfort, my constant. Over the years, Frisky had overcome so much. He recently became incontinent, and I had planned to start him on medication. But before I even got the chance, something changed. He couldn’t get up. We tried his favorite treats, soft encouragement… but he just pressed his head into the floor and stayed there. When my fiancé came home, Frisky lifted his head and wagged his tail hard, so happy to see him—but still couldn’t move to greet him. That moment broke me. I knew I had to do the right thing, no matter how much it hurt. I sat with him, his head in my lap, while I made the call for home euthanasia. I just wanted him to go peacefully, with me by his side, surrounded by love. That night, I begged the universe for a sign he was okay. I had a dream where I woke up to find him resting his head on my chest—something he hadn’t done in years. I hugged him, held him close, and told him how much I loved him… #dogs