Today is 19 years since my first ever dog, Henry (the first - another blue roan), died. He was almost 12, had had a stroke just before Christmas, and we made the terrible decision to take him to the vets to be pts after watching him howling in the snow outside, barely able to move otherwise. The death of your first dog is so tragic, the pain so unexpectedly deep, although it never gets any easier. I can still see little Henry in the snow and it fills my eyes with tears. RIP little fella.
