Being broken up with by someone who you fully and completely love is like going to the vet with your dog who is healthy and happy, but maybe has a sprained ankle. The vet who has known your dog since she was just a puppy, decides without your permission to euthanize her, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. You ask your vet why would they do something so stupid? The vet explains he didn’t think that it was worth it to try to help your dog. The ankle injury was probably permanent and would cause a lifetime of pain. Your opinion was never consulted, and you know that the vet made the worst decision he possibly could have.
Now, because the vet has caused you infinite amounts of pain, and completely lost your trust, you pick up your lifeless dog and wrap her in as many towels as you can find and vow to never come back. You can’t help but feel if you had just explained more maybe he would have made a different decision. But it all doesn’t matter now. You have a dead dog in your arms, and you have to figure out how to lay her to rest and somehow move on.
You look at your little ball of fluff that brought you so much happiness and wonder why it all turned out this way. You think to yourself, if I had only brought her in for her checkups more regularly, or saw the limp for what is was, then I could still have her here. You want to hold on to your your sweet girl, but you can feel her growing colder. Her expressive face now droops. You can’t stand to see her like this. It’s time to bury your dog.