I lost my best friend.

Her name was Buffy. She was born April 2006 and I met her that August, when I was 16.

Cancer. The disgusting thing that took her from me. She had tumors throughout her body, but this particular bastard was the main source. It was a connective tissue tumor that I'd had surgically removed twice in the past year but it continued to grow back. This time around, it grew so large and so fast that it started to crush her veins and was preventing blood flow to her paw. This picture was taken a few days before she left me.

This is her as a young lady dog. Her nose Mohawk was the reason I picked her over her sister, even though she was scared to death. Both sisters were puppy mill rejects that a rescue group had saved.

Camping at Mark Twain National Forest.

Posing at Forest Park here in St. Louis.

Buffy with her brother Nelson.

No room for Nelson.

Paws crossed, like a lady.

Her last week, we went to a nearby park with a lake because she loves the water.

She loved to lay outside.

Her last bath.

Her goodbye cake (she also got a whole chicken before this).

Our last picture together.

We said goodbye while laying together on her bed in my backyard, underneath the tree. When she received the sedative, it started to drizzle just slightly, but the sun came out after she was given the second injection. She was no longer in pain.
My mother tried to light a lantern to release after the vet left, however it was a windy day and there are lots of power lines and trees in the yard. We ended up almost catching ourselves on fire and running to get the hose to put it out. It cheered me up a bit, watching my mom run around with basically a bag of fire.

Goodbye, my love.