Nyx isn’t just a dog — he’s my service animal, my lifeline, and my very best friend.
We’ve been through it all together. I got Nyx after surviving a brutal domestic abuse attempt on my life. I was dealing with severe PTSD and trying to finish college while living in constant fear — my abuser still stalked me on campus. Nyx was the only reason I was able to stay in school. He got me through panic attacks, kept me grounded, and walked next to me at graduation.
Since then, Nyx has seen me through heartbreak, medical scares, job loss, the pandemic, and worst of all — the sudden death of my mom the week of my wedding. And still, Nyx was there, comforting me and my family like it was his full-time job. He’s that kind of dog.
He tore his CCL a while back, then his other in compensating, and the vet said we might have to consider euthanasia. I sobbed in the clinic and promised we’d fight as long as he would. And we did. He got stronger. He got better. We adapted.
Then came the lymphoma diagnosis.
I caught it early because I noticed his lymph nodes were slightly bigger — we did meds, then testing, and it was confirmed. We’re doing a steroid protocol to give him some more good days, and thankfully he’s not in pain. But we don’t have much time. Maybe weeks. Maybe a couple of months if we’re lucky.
What I’m raising money for is simple:
- To keep him comfortable with medication,
- To make his last days full of joy — food, toys, sun naps, love,
- And to give him a peaceful goodbye when the time comes — euthanasia, cremation, and all the costs that come with that.
I don’t want his last day to be filled with financial panic — wondering if I can afford our bills after paying the vet.
Nonetheless, in the midst of this sadness, one of the sweetest, most ridiculous joys? He’s getting to eat human food for the first time in his life. As a working service dog, he was trained never to take food that wasn’t part of his routine — no bites, no scraps, no pizza crusts. And now? We’ve thrown the rules out the window. No one deserves to die on a diet. He is losing his mind trying pizza, hot dogs, chips… all the forbidden foods he never got to taste. It's honestly beautiful to watch.
He’s still himself in so many ways. Still gently looking after our two rescue cats like he’s their big brother. Still alerting to emotions like he did during college exam weeks. Still making people smile like he did in his raincoat and boots on campus — the reactions were always “awww raincoat!” followed by “WAIT ARE THOSE TINY RAINBOOTS?!”
He’s a little slower now, and he doesn’t climb onto the bed anymore. I think he’s distancing, like dogs do when they know. But I’m trying to soak up every last moment, and I just want to send him off with the dignity and softness he’s earned ten times over.
Thank you so much for reading, sharing, or donating if you’re able. It means more than I can say.