10/29/2026
I've written and deleted these words multiple times because it still is just so hard. On October 28th, my wife and I had to make the difficult decision to allow Boo Bear to cross the Rainbow Bridge with as much dignity and pride as we could give him.
It all started in June, just after we found out that we were pregnant -- Boo started showing a very dry and honking cough. We brought him into the vet, where they were able to capture X-Rays showing a collapsing trachea. We knew that this was a possibility as he got older, and we were ready for it. He was prescribed a cough suppressant and we found our steady state. Boo would take his pills with peanut butter. He loved peanut butter.
On October 22nd, my wife and I drove our friends to Cleveland for a flight the next day. We got back home just after 11PM. Boo came running out to greet us, ran back to the bedroom to grab a toy, brought it over to my wife, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him collapse.
I called out his name -- "Hey Boo, whatcha doin'?". He didn't respond. His ears didn't move. He didn't perk up. He was just laying there on his side.
My wife picked him up and started rubbing his chest while I looked up the nearest emergency vet. Boo wasn't breathing, his tongue started turning blue, and his eyes began to cloud up. We were panicking. After what felt like an eternity (maybe 30-45 seconds after the initial collapse) he came back to breathing heavily, but hungry, thirsty, and needing to use the bathroom.
We brought him into MedVet, where he was quickly taken back and placed in a hyperbaric chamber for oxygen. Thus began long night #1. When it became clear that more tests were needed, we left for home around 9AM the following day.
Things were not the same at home without him. We were scared. Our cat, Fate, was pretty disoriented -- from the day that we took her in as a stray kitten, she has grown up with Boo.
We got an update call later that day -- they still had him on oxygen and were trying to ween him off. They asked us to come back in so they could discuss what they had found and so we could visit him.
We got there, and we met with one of the vets wo had been treating Boo. After the testing, we had discovered the following:
Boo was in CHF -- he as a large amount of fluid in his heart and was placed on IV Lasix to remove the excess fluid.
CHF was caused by a ruptured chordae tendenae -- one the "heart string" that keeps the valves in his heart Sturdy and upright had broke.
The ruptured chordae tendenae is what caused his syncopal episode due to a massive decrease in blood pressure.
X-Rays also showed that he had pneumonia in his right lung.
This was obviously a lot to swallow, but he was making improvements through the day. So we decided we were going to keep him here through the rest of the day make sure that he was stable, and take him home the following day and try to continue treatment at home.
Before leaving, they did bring us back so we could see him. We cried we were so happy to see him, despite the number of IVs he had in him. We let him lick our hands, we scratched his head, and we rubbed his belly. Then we noticed him starting to act differently. Boo had another syncopal episode in the hyperbaric chamber.
We quickly got out of the way to let the team do what they needed to do, and we returned to our car and cried.
The next (sleepless) day, Boo had stabilized and he was taken off of oxygen. We picked him up around 6PM, got all of his medicines, and we were just happy to have him in our arms again.
We got home, and started all the medicines. The vets did say that he would need to be taken out more frequently due to the Lasix, but I was running him out about every 90 minutes. I didn't sleep that night. He would cough, we would go outside, he'd p*e, and then we would go back inside, rinse, wash, and repeat. I didn't care how tired I was, or that I hadn't had anything substantial to eat in about 3 days. I was going to do whatever I needed to make sure Boo was okay. The heart stuff was never going to go away, but it could be managed for a time. We just needed time for the antibiotics to do there work and get rid of the pneumonia. All we needed was a few days for the meds to kick in. It's all we needed.
Boo had another syncopal episode around 8PM on the 25th. This was different. He didn't snap back like he did the first time. He was breathing heavier. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't thirsty. He was lethargic.
We brought him back into the nearest MedVet where he was again put in a hyperbaric chamber, with IVs, and now an ECG to constantly monitor his heart. The goal was to stabilize him so they could transfer him in the morning to their cardiology unit. The morning came, and they called to let us know that they didn't feel comfortable transferring him yet, because he'd start to panic off of oxygen. The pneumonia had gotten worse. They put him on IV antibiotics as well hoping that the medicine would help clear up more of the pneumonia, so they could try to ween him off of oxygen again, so they could try the transfer again.
They were able to transfer him the next morning, but things were still looking rough with the pneumonia. More X-Rays had shown that some of the pneumonia had cleared, but had left substantial scarring in the lung. An ultrasound also showed that his GI had slowed to a near stop, which was caused by inflammation of his pancreas, which was likely caused by a lack of oxygen during the syncopal episodes.
So, here we were, unstoppable force and immovable object. We were willing to do anything for Boo, and we knew that Boo would go until he physically couldn't for us, but things weren't getting better. We had a very long conversation that night about quality of life. Ours. Boo's. Our future daugher's.
I know Boo would have kept going for us. But there is a point, not just as a pet owner, but as family where you really have to say "I know you would do this for us, but we love you enough to let you know that you don't have to". Boo was tired. He was stressed. He knew something was different, something was wrong, and it still kills me to this day that I couldn't just tell him what was wrong.
They were able to stabilize him so we could come in the following day to spend some family time together. We hugged him, rubbed him, scratched him, talked to him. We were able to video call family so they could see and talk to him as well.
I stepped outside to go and get some McDonald's french fries and whipped cream -- two of his all time favorite treats. While I was gone, I missed something magical, but I'm still so thankful for it. I don't know if Boo ever realized that my wife was pregnant, but while I was out, Boo was sitting on my wife's lap when my daughter kicked him. My wife said he immediately looked puzzled, staring at where he was just kicked from.
When I got back, I could tell things were starting to change. He started acting anxious again, so we fed him as much as he was willing to eat. Then we sang to him, because he loved it when we did and when we would change words in the songs to his name.
Then it was time. My wife and I picked him up in one last "family sandwich" where we both just hug and hold him.
Then he went to sleep.
Then he was gone.
Words cannot describe how much my wife and I love Boo. We are both still so sad and hurt that he's not here anymore. We thought he was going to get to grow old as our daughter grows up. It's just hard to accept it at times. I took the time to write this again now, because we found a lot of his Christmas stuff, and it just hurts that we didn't get one more Christmas with him.
I do really appreciate seeing everyone's Poms on here. Sure, it hurts. I miss mine, but that is life. Be sure to give your little ones an extra treat for us.
