11 years ago, I went to the dog pound and brought home a sweet, skinny, shy baby girl. I got more than I bargained for! A week and a half later I returned home from work and did not receive the usual jubilant greeting at the door. I was immediately worried, and called out to her, but she still did not come. I began to search the house. I finally found her, underneath my bed. She had pulled the bedskirt down onto the floor and was curled around something and licking it. My first thought was "Oh NO! She's caught a RAT!!" but after I calmed down a bit I realized she was HAVING PUPPIES!! She had already had one, and two more followed. I watched the births in fascination. The second puppy to emerge was a pudgy, rollie brown ball. I looked at him and immediately knew his name was Humphrey. From that moment on Humphrey was my baby. We were inseparable and did everything together for more than 11 years. He has been with me through up and down, thick and thin, gave me courage and hope when I had to leave an abusive relationship, he was my best friend and guardian angel. Seven months ago, he started to lose weight. No other symptoms, just weight loss. His blood tests came back normal, and the vet was stumped. We tried every medication in the book for Humphrey, and some of them worked... for a while. About 2 weeks ago I decided it couldn't go on any longer and something had to be done. I asked my vet to do an x-ray and another blood test. The blood test came back normal again, but the x-ray showed a growth of some sort attached to Humphrey's stomach. Surgery was scheduled for Wednesday, October 18. I was scared, but hopeful, because surely if Humphrey had cancer, he would be really weak and sick, especially after losing 13 pounds (he started at 27). And he was not weak or sick at all - he still ran and played and barked at people walking down the street, he still growled at me just the same when I moved him over at night so I could lie down in bed. He ate well, he still begged for his favorite treats - he was a happy little dog. I still spent Tuesday night just holding him and stroking his soft fur and telling him how much I love him. I am very glad I did this for him, because Wednesday afternoon I received a phone call from the vet's office - Humphrey was on the operating table, and the vet had opened him up only to discover that he had VERY advanced liver cancer. His whole liver was pretty much gone, and his body was just full of the cancer. Now I had a choice - since he was not suffering (yet), I could have had them wake him up so I could have a few more days, or a week, or a month with him, but then I would have to worry about him either starving to death, or beginning to feel pain from either the starving or the cancer. OR I could tell the vet to give him a simple injection, and he would die peacefully, with dignity, and without ever suffering a single minute. I opted for the latter. It broke my heart to have to do it, but I owed it to Humphrey to do the unselfish thing. I owed him so much, and my debt is still unpaid. I miss him terribly, my 3 year old son misses him terribly - my other 2 dogs miss him terribly. The house is just not as lively without him. His ashes are sitting here beside me and I just cannot believe that is all that I have left of him - the ashes, an empty dish, and an empty collar. My best friend and first baby is gone. I know he knew how much he was loved, and that makes the pain a little easier to bear.