Vic, My Brave Beagle: Setbacks and Heartache

Vic is almost 14. He and his littermate Buster have been side by side their whole lives. Buster has his own quirks and minor issues, but overall he’s healthy. Vic’s sudden decline came out of nowhere—one day he was fine, the next, he wasn’t. He lost use of his right back leg, and we eventually learned it was IVDD, common in beagles.

For weeks, I’ve barely slept. Vic couldn’t get comfortable, and if he couldn’t rest, neither could I. I laid with him, watched every tiny movement, listened to every breath, and tried to soothe him the only way I knew—by being there. The love I feel for my beagles is impossible to explain to anyone who hasn’t felt it. They aren’t just dogs; they are my family, my comfort, my world.

Sometimes I look at Vic and Buster and remember the day I brought them home. I never thought I could love two dogs so much. I had my Pugbug, and losing him tore my heart in two. But these two… these two stole my heart completely. Losing either of them would destroy me in a way I can’t even imagine.

Tonight, Vic had a setback. He couldn’t get comfortable again, was panting, and sounded stuffy. My heart is in panic mode. Sometimes I feel like his body is just giving out, like he’s growing tired of the years on him. I don’t want him to suffer. I don’t want him uncomfortable or struggling to breathe. The fear of losing him is overwhelming. I don’t know how to know when it’s time to say goodbye—or how to even begin to make that decision when your whole world walks around on four paws.

And then there’s Buster. How will he handle losing his brother? Will I lose him too, in the way grief sometimes quietly steals a piece of you?

What makes this even harder is doing it alone. Sitting here with tears falling, trying to stay strong for Vic while my heart is breaking. There are moments when I wish I had someone beside me—someone to sit quietly, to hold my hand, to remind me that I don’t have to carry all of this by myself. Loving like this can be incredibly lonely, especially in the middle of the night when the house is quiet and the worry feels loud.

Vic can’t hear anymore, but when he sees me, he still howls softly and wags his tail. That small sound, that tiny wag, tells me he knows I’m here. Even when his body is failing him, his spirit is still Vic.

I don’t have answers. All I can do is stay with him, love him, and help him find comfort where he can. And even in the fear and exhaustion, there are moments of hope—moments when he leans into my touch and reminds me that love doesn’t disappear just because things are hard.

So tonight, I pray for another day with him. I pray he can get some sleep. I pray that maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

Peace, and lots of Love,

Mickey

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1umEXpGHc0E

This song Vic would alwsyd come up to me and lay his head on me. I think he liked it.