He was such a good boy. His name was Murphy and he was a great dane/english mastiff. We got him at 2 months old and he immediately stole our hearts. He was a big cuddle bug and loved the kids. He protected them fiercely from people walking on the sidewalk across the street or when our neighbors brought their groceries in from the car.
Two weeks ago (2 days before he turned 18 months old) he went to the vet to get fixed and get his stomach pinned. He was so excited to see them! The surgery went well and he started his recovery off being very relaxed, he was a beast with his cone on but he wasn't a licker so he got a lot of no cone time with supervision.
He was doing great for a few days, but not eating much. Then he started to throw up. He got very lethargic and we brought him back to the vet. They gave us some stomach meds and told us to stop the painkillers until he ate again. He continued to not eat and just lay down on his bed. Getting him up to go out to pee or drink water was hard. 2 more days of meds and trying handfuls of food we took him back to the vet and they did xrays and a CT scan but couldn't find anything wrong. They did an exploratory surgery and found he had an ulcer that ate through his stomach and was spilling into his abdomen. It had caused organ damage and had burned a hole through his diaphragm.
We didn't want to risk waking him up or doing a 50/50 chance of survival surgery so we decided the best option was to let him go peacefully. It was too young for anyone to go. But he is now sleeping on the big couch in the sky.
This is the curse of all pet owners. I fear for the day I lose my boys, and know that for as long as I am able to I will adopt new ones and keep their love alive.
<3 RIP Bandit.