I have tried several times to write this blog. It's been three weeks since I had to make quite possibly the most awful decision I have ever made in my life. I hope and pray that no one in their life will ever have to make such a decision. Spike is no longer with us, and even though he's been gone for three weeks now, my tears still run down my face.

About a month leading up to this decision, my beautiful, amazing dog started to act other than himself. I took him to his check up and he tested out seemingly healthy. His routine was changed, and he was no longer the alpha in the house. One night, a week before his death, something happened that I never thought possible: he bit me. He bit me, not once, not twice, but four times while I restrained him from attacking another. I immediately called Kristy, and talked with her and her friend Pal's hubby. They gave me some advice on what it is that I should do. I implemented there suggestions, as well as others. I was told by three trainers/behaviorists that this was "redirected aggression" and that I shouldn't worry overly much. I have to be honest, I was a bit scared, but still hopeful that we could fix what ailed him. I also started to spend more time paying attention to him, by playing with him in the tennis courts and making sure that he was getting enough exercise.

I made an appointment to see a behaviorist for Monday, because he didn't seem to be getting any better. The weekend went by, and he was still not happy with the new regime. On Monday, after taking him for his morning walk and feeding him, he came after me twice. I simply touched the back of his neck, without putting pressure on him. I got up to correct him and put him in a down stay in his bed. He snarled, growled and lunged for me, and only stopped when I changed my tone and asked him a question. It was then that I realized that there was something very wrong with him.

Over the last three weeks I have had plenty of time to surmise what is that went wrong. Do I have the answer? No. It was suggested to me by a friend that maybe the Lyme's disease went to his brain and was messing with his snynapses. I contacted several rescues in attempt to get him placed outside of my home. I was unsuccessful, and I feel like a dog owner failure. I never wanted to have to make the decision to end any pet's life, let alone a seemingly healthy one.

The first night in my apartment alone was quite possibly the most empty and terrible feeling. I walked into the apartment and I fell to the floor and cried for a half hour before I called my mother. I then cried for another half hour with her on the phone. Each day gets somewhat easier, but even writing these words I feel guilty. Grief is a long and convoluted process.

It hasn't been the quiet nights that have been hard. It's the change in routine. I don't have to walk him, feed him, or care for him anymore. I have found myself thinking I just need to wash my face and then go walk him, and then I remember. He's not here anymore, and I miss him. I miss the dog he was, who loved and respected me.

On top of your routine are the people that you see everyday that you never imagined you'd have to explain the lack of your dog's presence. The concierge's have upset me in the building that I live in for different reasons. One was very close to both Spike and myself. We cried together for Spike's loss. I wasn't upset with her, it was just an extremely emotional conversation.

The other concierge was truly awful a few days ago. She asked me "Where was my baby." I looked down and said, "He actually passed away." Most normal people would leave the conversation at this. She actually "laughed" and turned the corner to grab another resident's package. The resident noticed my body language and figured out what was going on. When she rounded the corner I said the most awful words "He's dead, and I am serious." She made me feel truly awful, and I already feel that way.

It's been three weeks, and now you know why I haven't been able to write a damn thing. The words are so hard to put down and I am sure I am not even coming close to describing the depth of the despair that I feel over losing my beloved Spike. I loved him so much and thought of him as my four legged soul mate. I could not continue to live in fear and I don't wish this on anyone, not even my worse enemy.

I will open my heart to another animal someday. My grief has been more shocking and crippling than I ever imagined possible. I guess I will end this here. I hope that Spike has found peace in the afterlife and is running around with those who arrived there before him.