Saying Goodbye To Lucy

Trigger warning: Pet loss. Grief.

In case you’ve wondered where I’ve been and don’t follow me on social media. On March 27th, 2026, at around 11 pm, a week after turning 12 years old. We lost Lucy on the way to the emergency vet. She died in my arms.

I first noticed Lucy was not eating her meals like she normally was. It was strange, but I had introduced her to a new dog food, so I thought she just didn’t like it. She was still eating her treats, daily dental chew, and drinking water, so I didn’t think this was a big deal. Lucy had done this in the past, so I thought she was just being a picky eater. A few days later, I noticed she still wasn’t acting strange, so I started to get concerned. At this point, she didn’t even want to go on her walkies. After she developed a few more troubling symptoms, I contacted a 24/7 virtual vet that my vet offers via app, and they told me to take Lucy to the emergency vet.

On Sunday, at around 3 am, we took her to the emergency vet for the first time. They put her on oxygen and took X-rays of her. Three hours later, they concluded that she had an enlarged heart and a tracheal collapse. Tracheal collapse is a common condition in smaller dogs, and I knew from previous vet appointments that she had that. They prescribed us three medications to give her, and we went back home. When we got home, I placed Lucy on the floor and called it a night. When I woke up, she was still in the same place and had peed herself. She couldn’t get up even though I knew she wanted to. I contacted the emergency vet we had just gone to, but the doctor wasn’t available, so I had to wait until they could call me back. I eventually picked Lucy up and took her outside, so she could at least pee outside, and she did manage to start walking a little. Late that night, I finally saw Lucy get up and start walking on her own. She walked a lap around the backyard and sat, enjoying the cool breeze. When she came inside, I offered her a bowl of chicken, which she instantly gobbled down. It started to look like she was recovering, so I started to have faith that she would be alright.

On Monday, we took her to her regular vet, and they said that she was fine and to continue giving her the medication that we were given.

Side note: The vet we go to is always changing vets, so this was the first time I was paired with this vet and they were very condescending of my concerns, despite recounting everything that had happened that week. At one point, they even told me why I was there! I was so frustrated. Looking back, I should’ve asked for another vet or told them to evaluate her more. The vet barely touched Lucy!

Fast forward, a week later, and I noticed she wasn’t eating again. This time, she wasn’t even eating her favorite foods or treats. I was concerned again, so I contacted her regular vet, and they told me to get her to the emergency vet. The next few hours went by so quickly and slowly. One minute she’s in my arms, still alive, the next minute I’m holding her lifeless body. Her eyes were open, and I swear I could still feel her pulse, so I thought she was still alive. However, when we arrived at the location and handed her to the emergency vet, they told us that she was already dead when we arrived. We set up a cremation plan and were told her ashes would be ready to pick up in a few days.

I don’t know where to begin. I’m shocked at how rapidly she went. At the beginning of February, she was perfectly fine! We were going on our daily cold girl walkies. She was flying up and down the stairs. Barking at the neighborhood dogs. Begging for second breakfasts and greeting me by jumping on me whenever I got home. I’m so heartbroken. It doesn’t feel real, like one big nightmare, and that I’ll eventually wake up and she’ll still be here. If you know me, you know how much I adored Lucy. She was my everything! I talked about her all the time. I shared photos of her every week on my Instagram. She was my best friend. I keep thinking that I’ll turn my head and she’ll be right behind me, following me, like she always did. I keep hoping to hear her bark echo throughout the house. Or that I’ll see her frolicking in the backyard. I That I’ll hear the pit-a-patter of her claws on the wood floor or the jingle of her collar.

So much of her life was interwoven with mine. She was the alarm clock that would wake me up every morning. We would go up and down the stairs together; she would literally stop if I stopped midway on the step! When I filled my water bottle with water from the pitcher, I would also fill her bowl up. When I finished my breakfast or dinner, I would check if she had eaten and pull a tab on a dog food tracker to indicate that she had eaten. I walked her. I made sure she ate. I bathed and groomed her. I trained her. I slept with her every night. I did so much for her and with her. The whole house reminds me of her. Everything reminds me of her.

These past few days without her have been extremely difficult. I can’t believe I won’t ever hold her again. I can’t believe I won’t ever feel her licks. I can’t believe I won’t ever hear her barks. I can’t believe I won’t ever walk her again. I can’t believe I won’t ever sing to her. I had so many silly songs I made up for her! I can’t believe I won’t ever call her by one of the several names I gave her. I can’t believe I won’t ever take a new photo or video of her again. I spent so much time with her. More than anyone else! At night, it’s been especially hard for me because she slept in bed with me almost every night. I keep hoping that I’ll see her little body snuggled up in her usual spots, but no. I’m haunted by her presence.

Everyone keeps telling me that at least she’s not suffering anymore and that she’s in a better place. To remember the good times and all the happiness she brought us. But I have so much regret. I keep blaming myself for not doing more! For not paying attention to her more. Maybe if I had done something earlier or taken her to the vet when I first noticed she wasn’t eatting that maybe I could’ve saved her. Maybe she would still be here! I keep replaying Lucy’s final moments. The last time I heard her bark. The last time I saw her. The last time I held her in my arms. I could’ve done more. I should’ve done more.

Thank you to everyone who contributed to Lucy’s GoFundMe or my Kofi. All proceeds will be going to Lucy’s remaining vet bills. Also, thank you to everyone who sent me a supportive message. I haven’t read them yet because I’ve been trying to avoid social media, but I’ve seen the notifications. Most of my algorithm is nothing but pomeranians, so it just makes me miss Lucy even more. This was my first time losing someone whom I was so close to, which I know is both a blessing and a curse. Lucy was also my first dog, so she’ll always hold a special place in my heart.

Thank you for being the best dog, Lucy. We lost you too soon! I will miss you soooooo much!