My least favorite word in the English language is hope. Hope equals pain. That’s the mistake I made in trying to save my Bubbs’ life. I had hope, and that hurts.She had a very rapid decline. She couldn’t keep anything down, her breathing suddenly became labored, and she would continually vomit while lying down without even raising her head. It was rapid, and it was scary.Dr. Reno met Emma and me at the clinic, which was of course closed. We lifted her onto the X-ray table, which she dislikes, and she just lay there. She never even tried to get up.When I looked into her eyes, what she was telling me was clear. I hate it when they do this, and at the same time, I’m grateful when they do.Bubbles and I could communicate in our own way. She counted on me. She trusted me. And she was telling me she needed me to help her.The X-rays showed what I didn’t want to hear. Her stomach had never reduced in size. Her intestines were shoved out of the way with no place to be. The diarrhea coming out of her was clearly telling us that things were not working, and on top of it all, she once again had pneumonia from the vomiting that she simply could not stop.The image I shared of her eating with Toadie sitting behind her was from the previous day. Yesterday, things took a very dramatic turn.This stomach was not going to recover, and Dr. Reno couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t trying to twist even though it had been tacked. It was obvious that we had hit a dead end. I had put her through enough. I had hope that it would work.It didn’t.I had to do the right thing and make the suffering stop for her and take on the suffering myself.I held her. I kissed her. I whispered in her ear how much I loved her and how much I would miss her, and she took her last breath.On this brutal summer day, after what has felt like endless 100-degree heat, we drove home as black clouds filled the sky. Lightning struck, thunder clapped, and the rain poured down hard for several hours.The storm was a symbol of what I felt inside.My Bubbs is gone, and my heart is broken.I am headed to surgery today on my hand, and for once I welcome the anesthesia and the pain medication afterward. I just want to go home, crawl into bed, and shut the world out for a little while.I don’t know when I will return. Perhaps Wes will run the page for a while. I need some time to recover from both my heartbreak and my surgery, so I need to bow out for a bit.I hate asking for donations, especially at a time like this. But I also know how many of you loved Bubbles and followed her life, laughed at her antics, worried about her, and rooted for her right alongside me.If you would like to honor Bubbles Marie, a donation to Dog Ranch Rescue in her memory would mean more to me than I can say. It will go toward helping another dog who needs someone to fight for them, just as I fought for her.There is absolutely no obligation. Your love for her, your messages, and simply remembering my girl are gifts too.She was one of a kind.She was a handful. She was a riot. She was a bad girl. She was a mama’s girl.And she was mine.I will miss her forever and ever.My beautiful Bubbles Marie with a tooth like no other.dogranchrescue.com/make-a-donation/