I just want to dissolve into a puddle of tears in the corner. Tomorrow morning I have to put my thirteen year old pit/lab down. My son is six, I had him when I was almost 43. I truly thought this dog, my sweet baby girl, was going to be my only baby when I got her. I was there when she was born. We've been nearly insuperable since she was six weeks old. My son has never known a life without her, I get that, when I brought him home, she took to him like her was her own pup. I understand how incredibly hard this is for him. And I'm there for him, holding him while he cries. But now, after he's asleep, I'm on the back porch with a glass of wine and a cigarette, both of which I've quit. I'm a fucking mess, and being strong for him has taken every last ounce of energy I have.