Thanks for your words. I'm not really coping that great. I've been breaking down at random, moving extra slow, not sleeping normally, not being able to sleep in my bed next to his chair at all, in a daze, etc. And yet, sometimes I feel like my brain has not fully grasped the fact that he's actually gone.
I've never lost anyone this important before and I've never had to deal with anything this big. I have been back at work two days so far and have not been able to make it all the way through the work day without crying so far. Luckily they all understand for the most part at work since I work in a grooming salon and were all more than okay with me taking a whole week off.
I had a Doctor Who convention last weekend which he was supposed to come to with me since it took place at a Westin hotel and they allow dogs everywhere for free and my parents and Eliza were out of town. He had the seizure/stroke on Monday night and was sort of recovering. He was vomiting but he was also eating a little bit, drinking water and peeing, seemed coherent for the hours he was awake (he mostly slept) and even went for a walk down the drive on Thursday during the day and wagged his tail. But he didn't make it through the night and I suspect he held on a little longer for me. I told him not to stick around for me and that if he needed to go to sleep, go. Even though I really need him and that's overly clear. But I didn't want him to see me upset because even Thursday evening he seemed very concerned over how much he was worrying me. I woke up after a few hours of sleep upstairs on the couch next to the sleeping bag he was asleep on most of the days before and found him alive but asleep downstairs on the couch, so I said goodnight and kissed him on the stop and went back upstairs because he liked his space sometimes. When I went back down at 8 am he was on the floor by the couch stretched out like he sometimes did, in a comfortable sleeping position, but passed on.
It is a scene I can't stop replaying at the most inconvenient times.