I'm at the end of my rope. Mentally, emotionally, financially, I am at a loss. Yesterday came close to one of the hardest days of my life. I had to bring the light of my life, my world, my baby, my pug Walter to the hospital. I noticed at the beginning of the day while walking him he was straining to urinate, nothing was coming out at all. As a worried dog mom I instantly went to the web and searched for possible explanations. None of them, of course, were hopeful.

I first brought him to an urgent care vet, where they confirmed Walter had something blocking him from urinating. This was cause for concern for several reasons, but most importantly, it could be an indicator of kidney stones and, if they were not removed, eventual kidney failure. Based on the urgency of the situation (this type of ailment in dogs is considered emergent), they recommended I take him to the emergency vet hospital. Rushing him there in hysterics, I couldn't stop telling him over and over again how much I loved him. My mind couldn't stop from thinking only the worst would happen, and my heart was determined to let him know how much I care for and love him. 

When we got to the hospital, Walter was taken upstairs so they could examine him. During that time, I was presented with all of the possible expenses that could incur, given all possible outcomes. X-Rays, anesthesia, catheterization, ultrasounds, pain medications, overnight hospital stays, IVs, radiographs, and, if worse comes to worst, a cystotomy. All of this and more came to the grand total of $7500. This staggering amount terrified me, but nowhere near as much as the thought of not having Walter in my life. I signed off on the crippling bill, saying that whatever it takes to make sure he came out OK I would find a way to pay. The vet walked me through their plan to treat him for the evening, and I was advised to go home and rest.

There wasn't a moment on my commute home where I wasn't crying, thinking about my darling boy being in pain and being scared without me there with him. When I got home, I crawled into bed, turned on The Office to try and help cheer me up (I needed a break from watching my most recent binge, Grey's Anatomy, for obvious reasons), and noticed the empty spaces Walter usually filled. He cuddles with me at night, either laying his head on my chest or curling up in the space between my bent legs when I'm on my side. I had phantom feelings of him being there all night. When I got up to get water, I carefully sat up so as not to disturb him from his slumber. He wasn't there. When I rolled over to my side, I did so with ease so he could adjust himself, too. But he wasn't there.

All I could do was think about all the moments I've spent with him, how he's been my rock since I got him nearly 5 years ago. I remembered finding the ad for pug puppies available to good homes in Green Bay, WI. Walter was the last baby boy up for grabs, and another family was considering taking him home. I eagerly waited for an answer from the breeder, hoping and praying Walter would be mine to have and raise as my baby. My wish came true - and soon enough I was on a 6-hour drive to pick up my best friend. I couldn't stop staring at the photos of him, of how his little rolls spilled over his back, how his tail looked like a perfect little cinnamon roll, and how in every photo he had the biggest smile on his face. The woman I was picking him up from was texting me the entire time - telling me how lucky I was and that Walter had the best puppy personality out of the entire litter.

When we finally arrived, the first thing I saw was a skittish little pug, on the skinnier side, with a straight tail. Although I could never find a puppy or dog unloveable, I apprehensively asked if that was Walter - the pictures had painted an entirely different story of his personality. The woman laughed and said, no, that was his sister, and as soon as she did, a chubby, snorting, smiling, rolly-polly little pug zoomed out from behind the couch and starting pawing his way up my leg. "That one is Walter!" she gleefully exclaimed. I reached down to pick him up, and he showered me with kisses (a trait of his that has definitely not gone away with age). It was as if he already knew how much I loved him, how much he would mean to me. I honestly had no idea at the time just how much that would be, either. 

I brought Walter home with me in May. Just shy of a month later, I lost one of my best friends at the end of Sophomore year in college. That, was the most difficult day of my life, and Walter was there for me. To cuddle, to soak my tears into, to hold close for comfort. I had him registered as my ESA (Emotional Support Animal), and he's exceeded the expectations of that certifications in more ways than I can count. Walter and my friend had had the most incredible and special bond. She met him the day I brought him home, she adored him and played hide and seek with him (one of her favorites games), took naps with him, and loved him like he was her own. Walter is a constant reminder for me of the happier days when she was around. He not only symbolizes the strength he offered me and that I had to gain to live with such a profound loss, but he also symbolizes the fun-loving spirit he had so closely bonded with during their time together. Sufficed to say, Walter means the world to me.

I am on my way out now to go to the hospital to visit Walter. Yesterday I had to make the down payment of the low-end costs of his stay and possible surgery, which he would have Monday, if necessary. I struggled with the idea of making this page because, if you know me, you know I am proud and have a hard time making the mental hurdle of accepting help with something I own complete responsibility for. Getting Walter was my decision, and I knew that would come all of the possible expenses of owning a dog. However, I came to realize that just because I accepted the responsibility of having Walter, that doesn't mean he hasn't made a difference in other people's lives. I cannot tell you the number of times he's brought joy to people, giving them kisses while wiggling his butt (his way of wagging his tail), offering them comfort in their own times of distress, just being an overall good boy to so many others. I humbly ask you help to keep this bringer of love and joy alive and well - to help him continue what he was meant to do in this lifetime and be everyone's best friend. Whatever it is you can offer would mean the world to me, because Walter means the world to me. I cannot spend another night alone worrying if those spaces will always feel empty. I need him to make it through this, and I need your help to make that happen. 

Thank you so much for taking the time to consider our fundraiser. Walter and I cannot tell you how grateful we are. Thank you, thank you, thank you. From the both of us.