I inquired about the cost, and she led Raine to a scale in the initial room. "He will be... $80," she announced with a smile. "Where do I sign?" I asked eagerly, reaching for a pen. I was uncomfortable with the practice of pricing dogs by weight and politely questioned why. "Vets determine fees based on weight for visits and medications," she explained. Without further queries, I took Raine home, where he quickly adapted. We allowed him a few days to acclimate, as new environments can be intimidating for dogs. Once settled, I scheduled a vet appointment for a check-up and began his training. Noticing some issues, I contacted the vet to expedite the appointment.

Raine was my first dog, and I believed we'd be lifelong companions. Unfortunately, the shelter had omitted details of Raine's medical history and background. My vet conducted tests and delivered grave news: Raine's vital levels were critically low, leaving me with the sole humane option of euthanasia. As Raine had ceased eating and seemed to seek release, I knew it was the right decision. I embraced him, promising never to forget and assuring him we'd reunite in the fields beyond.

At the clinic, I requested to stay with Raine until he fell asleep to bid farewell. The doctor declined, citing my lack of training, but allowed me to comfort him by stroking his head. As I did, I vowed to Raine that I would not let another animal suffer due to inadequate shelters or kennels and silently pledged to transform how the world views our animal companions, be they domesticated or wild.