I adopted him in September 2008.
Putting him to sleep was, without a doubt, the worst f*cking thing I have ever done. I will never forget it. It was even worse than I thought it would be, which was pretty much the worst f*cking thing I could ever imagine having to do to something I love. Not to sound like some kind of naive child, but I never want to go through that again. On the drive home the totality of it all hit me like a philosophical supernova. One moment he was alive, eating breakfast, and the next he no longer existed anywhere in this universe. It was like being high and in slow motion.
But it had to be done. His suffering was becoming unbearable, and it wasn't fair. Bone cancer is a terrible thing. Walking gets harder, getting up and lying down become chores. Every movement caused him pain. Friday night he laid in bed and whimpered all night. When he rolled over he would cry out or howl. Try sleeping through that sh*t. I put him down Saturday morning. That was my signal.
Anyway, the NHL is back on and that's pretty cool, huh?