I just lost my puppy and I can’t stop thinking of him

I don’t really know how to write this, but I need to write it down—so I can remember.

Three weeks ago, I brought home my puppy, a little West Highland Terrier. My fiancé named him 牛奶 (Milk).

Three days after bringing him home, he started coughing and bringing up phlegm. The first vet thought it was a lung infection and put him on antibiotics, but he didn’t get better.

A week later, we took him back for another X-ray, which showed no improvement. We were told to continue antibiotics for another week.

At first, we thought he was getting better because he stopped coughing. Last Sunday we even took him outside to play.

But after that course of antibiotics, yesterday’s X-ray still showed no improvement. We panicked. The vet suggested a CT scan for a better diagnosis, and the results showed a lung infection.

After that, we took 牛奶 to another hospital the breeder recommended. In the first few hours after admission, everything looked fine. They gave him oxygen to help him breathe, multiple antibiotics for the infection, and other medications for his respiratory issues.

But everything changed this morning. He kept gasping for air. Later, the vet called me and told me he had just passed away.

I feel terrible, like my decisions killed him. I can’t stop thinking that if I hadn’t agreed to the CT scan—so he wouldn’t have to go through anesthesia—maybe he could have made it. Or if I hadn’t transferred him to another hospital, maybe the outcome would have been completely different.

Three weeks. That’s all the time we got. It feels impossibly short. I had prepared so much for him, and most of it never got used and now might never be used. Seeing it all now is its own kind of pain.

He was so small, and he was here for such a little while, but he was deeply loved. I just wanted somewhere to say his name and let him be remembered.

I blame myself so much.

Rest easy, little one. 🐾