Horrendous guilt

Coming out of my cave to share some horrible news.

We had to say goodbye to our "baby boy" at 3:30 this morning. We were expecting that we would lose him to the rare nerve sheath tumor he was diagnosed with in the fall. Instead, we lost him to an intestinal obstruction.

I don't know what happened. I don't know what it was, what he possibly could have gotten in to. There aren't children's toys to get into around here (obviously), we don't leave clothes or other stuff on the floor, he wasn't a chewer or the type to get into things. All of his toys are present and accounted for.

I keep racking my brain trying to figure it out.

It's quite possible that it was something he got into while I was at work, when there's nothing I could have done to prevent it. It's even possible that it was another tumor that was compressing his intestines; the vet offered up that possibility, although it sounded like she thought it was less likely to be that and more likely to be a foreign object. Apparently right before we got there, she had just finished pulling a fully intact pair of boxer shorts out of another dog's intestines. She also mentioned something about having pulled batteries, magnets, bikini underwear and even a tampon out of other dogs.

We could have done surgery. And though it would have been $4,000-$8,000 and required a 3-5 day hospital stay, and though we knew we only had weeks to a few months left with him, I was tempted. I didn't want to let him go like that, for that reason. But then R pointed out that his legs would have been even weaker after all the time he would have to spend laying down during recovery, and I knew I'd only be doing the surgery for me, not for him.

The vet said it wasn't our fault, that dogs will be dogs. That her own dogs have gotten into things they shouldn't, and that I shouldn't blame myself. But I do. How could I not?

I was supposed to take care of him, not let him eat something that would kill him. Maybe this is why we don't have kids. If I can't even keep a dog alive, why on earth would God trust me with a kid?

I know that's extreme. And self-pitying. And on some level, ridiculous. But still, there it is. The thought that keeps playing again and again in my head.