http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9c2i8W3WDNg

Your story strikes very close to home, because I almost had to go through the same thing last year.I adopted Hendrix a couple years ago as a kitten, and although I was never really a cat person, I loved him to bits. I live alone, and every day I would rush home after work to see him.Everything was fine at first, and I think he was happy, but one day last August I found him hiding under the bed, which he never does. At first I didn’t think much of this, so I kind of left it.The next day, he was still hiding under the bed. When he came out of hiding, he was sluggish, didn’t eat or drink much. He then went to his litter and this is when I noticed something was wrong, because he was trying to pee but couldn’t. He looked like he was in a lot of pain.I immediately took him to the vet, and he was diagnosed with some kind of urinary problem (stones/crystals in his urine) which was blocking the tract. He needed immediate surgery.At this point, I was worried, but I thought everything would be OK, he would come out of surgery and be his old self again.But it turns out it was a lot worse than I thought. After the surgery (which went fine), the vet told me that it was a very close call, and had I waited a few more hours, he wouldn’t have made it. This was the beginning of my nightmare…My first thought was “he will be OK, surgery went fine”. Got a call the next day, letting me know that his *something* level in his kidneys was quite high due to not being able to pee for so long, but that it was slowly coming down.The next day I’m waiting for the call to let me know that he’s recovering. But instead I am told that his levels haven’t dropped as much as it should have… and they’re not too sure what’s going to happen.

This is where I completely break down. I start blaming myself because I didn’t react right away that first day I noticed something wrong. I am crying all the time. I took a couple days off work and just stayed in my dark bedroom, crying.

The next day was even worse. The vet tells me that he is not recovering, the damage to his kidneys was just too much. 
He gave me a choice: give him another 24 hours to see, or to just let him rest. The hardest decision I’ve had to make in 32 years. I was in no state to think clearly. I was still blaming myself for what happened. His condition was clearly getting worse every day. But I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pull the plug. After the vet assured me that he was in no pain thanks to the medication, I decided to give him one more day, not out of hope but because I couldn’t let go, and I just wanted to spend one last day with him. That evening I went to see him at the vet. I just stayed there looking at him, crying, for a couple hours.

OK.
I’m ready.
Or at least I convinced myself that I was. 

That night I went home, not wanting to think about the next day. I have no idea how I got home, I had barely eaten anything in the last 3-4 days, still blaming myself. I would call my mom, and just end up crying for 10 minutes without saying a single word. I was in such a f***ing mess. I finally fell asleep due to exhaustion.

The next morning, I get a call from the vet.
Immediately I fear the worst. He must have passed away during the night, or something.

But instead what I hear is an excited man shouting “It’s a fucking miracle” (exact words).
To everyone’s surprise, Hendrix had completely recovered overnight. They had never seen anything like it before.
Of course, more crying for me, albeit a different kind.
I don’t know how it happened. Nobody knows. I like to think that my presence there had something to do with it. Gave him a reason to hang on, a reason to fight (no matter how ridiculous it sounds).

This was the longest week of my life, and it really taught me that life is at the same time so very fragile, but also so strong, so resilient.

Hendrix is now on a special diet for the rest of his life (though he seems like like it), he’s completely recovered, and I’d even say he is healthier than he ever was.

Calliope was so lucky to have an owner like you for her short, sweet life. Coming home to find this here set me off onto another crying bout, but I want to thank you so much for it. Thank you for caring for a sweet little dog, even if you did not have enough time with her. It’s so sad when a dog must go–all they do is add good to this world, and it’s seems so cruel that they should ever suffer. Thank you for being another person who cares so deeply about their doggy, and thank you for helping me feel a little less alone now that my best friend is gone.

http://www5.spelman.edu/~pcamp/dogs/sugar&sam2.html

The time her and her brother came into my life was the most remarkable thing that ever happened to me. the fact that our best friends have so much shorter lives than we do is proof to me that there is no such thing as a just and loving god.

back in December i lost my puppy at 10.5 months to renal displaysia – his kidneys were underdeveloped.  i can say with confidence those were the best 8 months of my life.  i’m feeling your pain.  don’t be afraid to seek grief assistance.  it really can help.

Unless Jason is from the same bloodlines, and has been eating a 100% identical diet I strongly doubt that his liver and kidneys will be compromised.