I wrote this on Facebook and I felt it could be shared here, as well.

Last night, my dad called me telling me that our dog, T-Boy, had another seizure. Today, he's bringing him in to be put down. I would've tagged along, but I'm currently in Texas with a couple of great friends of mine. I'm doing my best to keep my composure and I've mentally accepted the fact that he wasn't going to make it any longer than this year. But, seeing how he's been in my life for over 15 years and has been a personal best friend ever since I was little, it's being hard to mentally come to terms so easily. I'm not going to cry over it and it's nothing about pride or any of that stupid shit people like to say. As much as I want to, I have no reason to cry about it anymore. It was bound to happen, sooner or later, and that's the truth. Yeah, I'm going to miss him dearly, but right now I'm just holding on to the memories I have made with him and enjoying those. I gave it a good thinking over and in the end putting him down was probably the better option. At least it'll end his and our own personal sufferings. It isn't fair that such a good dog has to have a fate like this, but it's for the best for all parties.