And then there was one. Despite a dramatic improvement when he went on meds, we noticed a significant deterioration after Fellas antibiotics and painkillers ran out; I called the vet yesterday to see if we could get him on something long term, and he said if it was helping quality of life of course we would. Less than a minute after my alarm went off today my mother told me he was acting very much in distress, just wanted to lie around (instead of following her everywhere as usual) so she was taking him to the vet, probably for the last time. When she got the leash he finally roused himself (he LOVED riding in the car, first dog I've ever had like that. ) As I left for work she left for the vet; I said my final goodbyes, hopped in my own car and called home on my first break to find the worst confirmed: The vet agreed it was time, and Fella's gone to a happier place where we'll be reunited one day. I worry my mother may not be far behind him; she's going through hell on many fronts. She's looking at shelters for other dogs, but I'm getting tired of losing them.

My deepest and sincere thanks to each of those who gave their thoughts and prayers for us in a very trying time. We knew this day would come, and soon (the vet called it pretty accurately) and Fella had a good, enjoyable and Loved life till the end. A lot more than he would've had if my mother hadn't picked him up at a shelter three years ago when he'd been there so long the pavement where he lay had worn a bare patch on his rump. He's a good boy, and we will miss him, but we will not forget him.