I looked at him yesterday, had a talk with the vet, and made the decision. It was time. He was not living a good quality of life, and he was just not responding well to the insulin. His glucose levels would go down a bit, but was still hundreds of points away from being where he should be. He was miserable. So I made one of the hardest decisions in my life. I had to put him down. My heart is broken, he was my first pet as an adult. He was my baby. Brian came with and was upset too. We got him together, before we were even married. I stayed with him and kissed him goodbye while they gave him the drug that would stop his heart. I kissed him as he took his last breath. It was heartbreaking. I cried of course, but I lost it when I got home and only had one dog to feed. One bowl. Then I felt guilty. Should I have faught harder? Was this some rash decision made out of anxiety? I miss him so much, but looking back at these pictures before he became sick and his last days, tells me that I did make the right decision.
Here's his recent pics. You can tell how sick he was.