To our dear Domino

	Thank you Annie for this heartbreaking testimony about the health of your lost little Domino.
	Time goes by, but we miss him more and more. I didn't think that the peak of pain could be so strong following the loss of one's four-legged companion; how good it is to meet people with whom we can share the same feelings and without shame.
I waited until Wednesday March 10 to do so, because it was six months ago today that he left me. He went to white heaven on Wednesday, September 10, 2003 at around 9:30 am. Domino's state of health had deteriorated since August 29, although the vet's visit on September 2 did not suggest that he would die so soon, at least that's what I thought, although before leaving he told me to consult Domino's usual vet as soon as possible!... so the appointment was made for 8.30 a.m. on the 10th. Looking back, I realize that people don't want to believe reality. Domino was an old and sick dog, but I loved him so much! I thought he would live forever. His health problems began in January 2000 with a testicular tumour. He underwent surgery and, despite being only 12 years old, recovered very quickly. In July 2000, a heart problem was discovered: heart treatment for life, with regular check-ups. All went well until October 2001: Domino became diabetic; his blood sugar rose to 6 g and more. We treat him with insulin: two injections a day (6 a.m. and 8 p.m.) and a very strict diet (chicken, rice and green beans). So I'm the one who gives him the injections...when he's eating, because when he's not eating, no way! My Domino was a brave little dog and never showed any aggression despite all his health problems. Quite the contrary, he was always ready for licks and parties. I have to say that since March 2003 Domino had become blind due to his diabetes, but we both managed. Then came that Sunday, June 14, at 3 a.m.: we were on our way home from a friend's house; Domino was so happy to see me again; there were so many parties, so much excitement and... he had his first epileptic seizure in my arms. That was when the descent into hell began. I'll never be able to forget those moments of seizure, it was unbearable and yet as soon as he came to, he was still kissing me as if to say "thank you, you're still here". He was treated, but nothing could cure him: he'd lost all his bearings and had no sense of smell. When we returned to the vet's surgery on September 10 at 8.30 a.m., he had had 6 epileptic seizures since 4 a.m.; diagnosis: brain tumor or aneurysm rolling into his head: there was no way out. I'll never forget the moment when we had to make the decision; I so wished he'd gone in his sleep. My son and I were with him until his last breath. We stroked him a lot, kissed him and then asked the vet how he was, to which he replied: he's gone, he's upstairs. We hugged him tightly, our tears running down his still warm body, one last look and we left the room, he was still there, lying on the table. Domino was cremated individually. His ashes were divided into two urns: one in my bedroom and the other at my son's home, alongside the urn of our GOLD who joined him in doggy heaven on October 4, 2003.