My Finny

by - 6:30 AM



I've put off writing this particular blog post because (to be perfectly honest) I was avoiding crying. For those of you new here, I'll catch you up. Six years ago, I adopted a pit bull mix I named Finn. I could go on and on about what an amazing dog he was but words can't really capture how special he was to me and everyone around him. He was the best dog I could have ever asked for, and he was my numero uno and partner in crime.


Last year, right after Christmas, Finn developed massive lumps on his throat. My mind went to the worst, and unfortunately, my vet confirmed the diagnosis: lymph node cancer. She gave him 3 months without treatment and a year (at best) with chemo. Here's the rub, though, there was no cure. Either way you cut it, I would be losing my Finny. I know that seems blunt, but that was the reality I was faced with. To treat or not to treat.

Let me tell you, that was the hardest decision I've ever had to make (up until that point), and I chose not to put him through chemo. We put him on a steroid that shrunk the tumors and improved his quality of life, and from there, I soaked up every second I had with him, which meant taking him to work with me every. single. day.

He LOVED it. He got all the treats, all the pets and I don't think I can ever express how grateful I was and still am for being able to spend all that time with him. For not having to feeling guilty going to work every day. 

But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. On April 15, 2019, Finn's breathing deteriorated to the point of no return, and then, the hardest decision I've ever had to make came. I took him to the vet and she confirmed my worst fears, and I came to terms that the time had finally come. So, I scheduled to bring him in later that day to say goodbye one last time. We made one final ride to work together where he was spoiled rotten, kissed and loved and then the time came to say goodbye.

As I write this, I can't help but sob not only because it is still so fresh, but mostly because Finn was my world and a piece of me is missing with him gone. The small noises like him going in and out the dog door or him drinking water aren't there anymore, and my house is eerily quiet with him gone.



I can't begin to describe how much he meant to me and anyone who met him, and the world is a little less bright without him by my side. He was the Finny to my Rinny.

The support I have received over the past few weeks is a testament to how much Finn was loved and touched those around him, and in a weird way, it has given me some peace that his life (although short) impacted not only my life but anyone who met him.

Until next time sweet Finny.

xoxo.   

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