I feel too many emotions and, at the same time, am so numb.

My dog, Freya, passed away the Sunday before Christmas. I’m currently on a two-week holiday break from work, and my world came to a full stop. About a month prior, she had stopped eating. She was often tired and lethargic. Eventually, she seemed to get better and was back to her old self. My mom had noticed that her mouth was dirty and sticky with a tar-like substance. We weren't sure what she had eaten, but maybe it was something toxic to dogs.

About 2-3 weeks ago, Freya’s health issues resurfaced (the same symptoms as before). She was sleeping all day, wasn’t eating, and occasionally would vomit yellow bile. I also remembered walking her, and she’d get tired and have diarrhea. At the time, I didn’t think it was an emergency because she had experienced the same symptoms before and recovered, so I thought she just needed more rest.

On Friday evening, I went on my routine walk with both dogs. About halfway through, Freya suddenly stopped and refused to move. I had to carry her the rest of the way home. When my sister came home, I mentioned it to her, but I think she was too tired from work to take it seriously. The next morning, I found Freya sleeping in my sister’s bed, with an abnormal amount of saliva and shaking in a jolting manner. I told my sister, but again, it didn’t seem to phase her. However, when she went back to her room and saw Freya in that state, she immediately took her to the ER, suspecting that it might be a seizure.

That Saturday, I was still holding on to hope, thinking that the ER would miraculously heal Freya. My sister came back home and said the doctors had told her that Freya had a liver issue and a 50/50 chance of survival. We were both panicking. She later returned to the ER, where the doctor ran tests and confirmed it was liver failure. I drove to the ER later that evening, but I wasn’t able to see Freya. Pam’s friend, Uyen, was there. I couldn’t sleep that night at all, tossing and turning, unable to shut off my brain.

On Sunday, we went back and forth between home and the ER. Uyen and her boyfriend, Rob, accompanied us the whole day. We went to visit Freya and saw her lying in a cold, metal cage with several IV drips and catheters—essentially, life support. Rob and Uyen bought her a puppy-chino from Starbucks, but she wasn’t interested. They also, secretly and behind the nurse and doctor’s back, snuck in a substance and injected it into her, hoping it would help. Uyen is a pharmacist, and Rob works in the health and wellness field. We were all sobbing, crying basically the entire time.

By 1 p.m., the final lab test results came in. Her condition was worsening, and she had developed a fever. The vet said there was nothing else they could do; her liver had completely failed. My sister made the very difficult decision to end her suffering and euthanize Freya. She called an in-home vet to perform the euthanasia later that day. We picked Freya up from the ER and drove her home. It was the hardest drive of my life. Freya was shaking but extremely tired and didn’t seem to recognize us. Once we were home, I turned up the heater to make the house warm and cozy. We wrapped Freya in her favorite blanket and sat with her on the couch. We also tried to do a paw print and cut a bit of her hair to preserve her memory. We cried so much. Rob and Uyen arrived, and Uyen groomed Freya a bit, cutting her hair around her eyes. Then the vet (the "dog grim reaper") arrived. It was an emotionally painful ceremony for all of us. The vet administered rounds of injections: for sleep, for pain, and finally, the euthanasia. All of this while my sister was holding Freya and crying. Freya slowly drifted away in my sister’s arms. We took turns holding her lifeless body, crying into her. Typing this now is making me cry again. It was the most painful experience of my life. We loved her so much. The vet took Freya away and drove off.

I didn’t have the best relationship or impression of Uyen previously, but these past couple of days really showed me how caring she is. We hadn’t eaten much that weekend, and Uyen tried to make us some food and even washed the dishes. I think we're similar in that way—both needing to do something to keep our minds occupied. After the ceremony, we went to eat pho—hot broth seemed right in the moment. Uyen and Rob were so kind to us during this painful time, and I’ll never forget it.

When we got home, I took a melatonin and successfully went to bed. The next couple of days were some of the hardest. There were nonstop crying sessions, to the point of irritated eyes and a pounding headache. My mind kept jumping into the "why" and "what if" scenarios. I just miss Freya so much. She was with me every day. I work from home, so she would always be next to me, chilling. Or she’d go to the patio outside my room to sunbathe. Dogs are so pure and show you real, unconditional love. They are angels.

It’s been about a week since Freya’s passing, and I’m still struggling to cope. I hope that one day I can think of her with warm, fond memories. Right now, it’s still too painful to think of her.

I love you, Freya. You were the best dog in the world. My queen.