I am Omi, but this isn't about me. This is about my late pupper. Let's start with his story.

I found Preston in a very broken part of my life. Found him on a whim looking at the local humane society. I was looking for a dog for my, at the time, current dog. He was beautiful. Black lab mix with a heart of gold. I asked for some information on him, and he had been abandoned three times. I couldn't understand why since he was so wonderful. It was the same story every time: found wandering around, slim as could be. Called owners and no one answered every time.

I won't lie, our journey together was a tough one, especially working through his insecurities and trust for a while. But he loved his younger brother Levi. We went through some tough times together, specifically family and relationship traumas. But he kept me going with his beautiful brown eyes and his need for constant attention.

A few months before his death, we started to notice a change in behavior. It was little and simplistic, but I think deep down, with having so many fatty tumors, his time was running short. There was nothing I could really do. But with that mindset, his death was not something I thought I would have to prepare for so soon. He was fine the morning prior, running around being the silly boy. By that evening, he was a small shell of himself. In hopes that maybe he was just sick, we treated him to a Dairy Queen Blizzard. But he couldn't eat it. A few licks and he plopped down in the back seat next to me, defeated.

We waited until morning. He made it down the stairs, only to collapse and be unable to stand. We got to the vet where we told them everything. So they wheeled him back and delivered the worst news I heard. He was hemorrhaging and there was nothing we could do. I remember Green urgently on the phone trying to get help with his medical bill to try and save him. I was desperate too, but the look in his eyes and the way he kept booping me, I knew he was ready. I was the only one that wasn't. So I stopped Green and told him it was time. I had made the choice to let him go. I sat there with him while they injected him. He went as soon as the anesthesia hit him. Gone.

That same night, we brought all of his food and toys to the shelter I first got him from and donated most of his things. I want to give back what they gave me. Life. A life I never thought I would actually have.