Absolutely the worst day of my life was the last day of Tankie's life. He was almost 11 years old, and had developed pancreatic cancer. We probably kept him a week longer than we really should have, but we were ignorant to his suffering, and wanted him around just a little longer.
The previous night, he went into seizure five times, and we knew it was time. We called the vet that morning, and made an appointment for just after they closed at 5pm, so we could deal with the loss after all the other customers had gone home. Both of us took the day off work, and called our relatives to come say goodbye to him, which they did. We offered him hamburger and some ice cream-- his favorites-- but he would only nibble at them. So, we brought his bed into the living room, put a comforter on it to make it softer, and let him lie in the soft January sunshine while we doted and petted and loved on him.
The vet was incredibly sensitive. My husband's mom drove us, so we could both hold him in the back seat. When we got there, my husband stood behind Tankie, his mom at his side, while I held his head and told him I loved him. He gave me kisses on my face while the vet did her thing, and before you know it, he was gone. I closed his eyes and let go of his head. I've never cried so hard in my life. I'm crying as I type this.
Tankie was my boy. He was my guardian angel. We had him cremated, and put his ashes in a beautiful inlaid wood jewelry box with a dogwood pattern on it.
Tankie on the last day of his life.