My great condolences to you and your family for your dog. May he forever rest well in the heavens above.

Given my own Pekingese's death in 2014, all I can really say is:

I'm sorry for such loss, and I truly know how you feel about it.

I had a german shepherd for 9 years, and was hard when she passed away, and I saw her layed infront of the principal gate.

Oh dear, so sorry to hear this. Dogs are truely a mans best friend and losing them is one of the hardest things that could happen to someone. I'm sure he had an awesome life with you as his owner and that he's now in dogs heaven, chasing squirels for eternity and that he's thankfull for the love and care you gave him. Stay strong *hugs*

Rest in peace. I feel bad for you. My dog got hit by a car 2 months ago, i feel ya   ( https://mlpforums.com/topic/216-do-you-have-any-pets/page-51#entry4639920 )

I'm so sorry for your loss I lost a cat when I was a kid and it was agonizing for me. Nobody deserves to go through this kind of pain. *hugs you*

RIP.  Losing pets is always rough, I normally just cry about it for a while just to get everything out.  I've lost 6 rats, a cat and 2 Guinea Pigs over the years so I feel your pain. 

Man I'm so sorry to hear that. Dogs really are something we need more of in this world. *hugs you*

I'm sorry. ono Same's probably about to happen to my dog, to be honest... :/

I've had multiple pet deaths over the years that still haunt me to this very day, I know exactly how you feel

My dog past away about month ago. 
All I have to say. I'm sorry for you

Rest in Spaghetti Never Forghetti

I'm incredibly sorry for your loss. Rest assured, everyone will understand if you need some time to get better.

May Dover rest in peace.

Thank you all so much for the kind words. It means so much to me. I was able to get a good nights sleep but even now, I am still not doing too great, but being here with all of you makes a world of difference. *hugs*

Hope the pain has eased by now.

Our last family pet died about three years ago.  Our cat, Sierra.  I called her Monkey.  That was her nickname.  She was our oldest living pet.  18 she was.  We had pets my whole life growing up--dogs and cats.  But to be perfectly honest, I was never really that much of a pet person.  My parents liked the animals more than I did.  I was never really that sad when my pets died.  A little sad, but not broken up.  Sierra was a bit different.  She was the only pet we had while I was an adult, and she moved across the country with us.  It was hard to adjust to a new place, and she made it feel a bit more like home.  She also kept me company when my parents when on camping trips together that I didn't want to go on.  She would watch me cook dinner.  Monkey made the house feel a little more alive.  That was nice.

We moved again, about two years ago, back to the old country (by which I mean state).  At this time, Monkey was 18, and her health wasn't good.  Trouble eating, trouble using the litter box, trouble seeing and getting around, that sort of thing.  We all knew that she couldn't make another trip that far, nor could she adjust to a new house.  The vet agreed.  We waited until the time was right, and then had her put to sleep (a luxury humans should be afforded as well).  After she was gone, we had a few months to just... y'know, rest, and then we started the moving process.  It was best for everyone that way.  It was the right time for Monkey--her quality of life was gone.  And I think it was strangely best for us, too.  It was best to leave the memories of her in the old house, rather than have the first memories of our new house be of Sierra wasting away and dying.

What I found so surprising was how much her death affected me.  We've had pets die, but it was never scheduled.  That was a weird thing.  I think every pet we've ever had was actually euthanized, rather than natural causes, but it was always triggered by a natural cause.  In other words, in each case, something happened, like a stroke or something, and we rushed the animal to the vet, and the prognosis was basically--"well, we can spend thousands upon thousands to do emergency surgery and possibly extend the animal's life by a few months, and it will be a few months of pain, or we can just end it now while they're already asleep", so we went with the latter.  But with Monkey, we knew ahead of time.  We actually made an appointment for euthanasia about a week in advance.  Knowing when someone's gonna go... knowing exactly when the last time you will ever see them will be... that is a surreal thing, I'll tell you.  Knowing that this is your last few days together, and she doesn't even know it, and you've got to say your goodbyes... that is a weird feeling that I had a hard time making sense of.

I tend to be somewhat nocturnal, so I was up the night before Monkey's appointment, and I decided that I would rather just spend time with her then, like I usually did, and not be up for the vet appointment the next day.  I spent a long time with her that night, just petting her and talking to her.  It was so weird, just knowing that when I finally left the room, I would never see her again.  I thought about what it would feel like if she knew that tomorrow would be her last day on Earth.  I was so glad she couldn't know.  I cried so much, which absolutely shocked me.  I didn't realize my feelings were that strong.  She was more my mother's baby than anyone else's.  That's who's lap she slept on every evening.  I took several hours to say goodbye.  The next day, while I was asleep, my mom took Monkey to the vet.  They gave her a shot, and she fell asleep in my Mother's arms, wrapped in her favorite blanket.  That was the best way she ever could have gone.  And now the tears are running down my cheeks again.  This isn't a fresh wound, and I'm completely fine, now.  I remember Monkey fondly, but I'm not in pain anymore.  But I just can't tell that story of her last day without crying.

But it's a beautiful sort of sadness.  It's strange, but I've always felt like there's a pure sort of sadness, the kind of sadness that comes at the loss of loved one, when that loved one lived a rich, full, long life, and reached the end, that can be beautiful and strangely therapeutic, cleansing, and cathartic.  This may sound morbid, but there's almost a strange... joy... in it.  Being a person who also suffers from clinical depression and crippling anxiety, I've felt a lot of pain in my life as well, and as you well know, there's no silver lining to that kind of pain.  It's just agony.  But crying for Monkey felt... kind of... nice.  It made me feel... full.  Not empty.  It made me feel like something matters.  And it felt nice now as well.  I'm not suggesting that losing a pet, (or any loved one for that matter), is ever a good thing.  It's hard, and they will be missed.  But sometimes... sometimes... a certain kind of sadness can feel strangely beautiful... if you let it.