  My little man, Elvis, passed away on Tuesday night. He was about 18 years old. He was a York-a-sauraus.
A large Yorkshire Terrier that someone decided they didn't want anymore, and I was lucky enough to be at the right place at the right time to take him home with me. On Sunday he and I and my other dog went to my sister's house. We spent the afternoon in her backyard.
Ellie couldn't see anymore, but he loved that yard. He'd walk and walk, usually in circles, but he never knew that. Later I put him on my favorite purple blanket and he went to sleep. My other dog, Jane came over and layed with him. She hasn't done that in a long time. They peacefully slept together in the shade for an hour or so. The next morning, Ellie had a little cough. On Tuesday he was much worse. Very limp, very sick.
I knew he didn't have much time. Whatever this was, it hit him so fast, so hard. I think his heart just gave out. He died in his sleep after I held him in my arms for hours and told him all the things I wanted him to know. I couldn't see bringing him to the vet - they would have put him to sleep of course, and this way he died probably an hour later than he would have, and he died in his home.
Plus, he was in a semi-coma, I don't think he suffered at all. I miss him so much. My heart is broken. I know how lucky I was to have found him 13 years ago. Jane is in a terrible state now. She knows he's gone. We buried him in the yard he loved so much. My little man. 
