Idaho is/was a beautiful soul, a very smart border collie who was dealt a bad card from the beginning. Born with hip dysplasia, had right hip surgery, then developed arthritis in both hips. Even with his hip troubles, he had the best attitude. He loved to play fetch with a ball, a stick, anything you can throw. His favorite was a frisbee. At age 6 1/2, he was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, had surgery and radiation treatment. For 3 years, he was doing very well. Earlier this year, he began to have weight loss, decreased appetite and diarrhea, which continued despite vet visits. The vet finally took an xray that showed something suspicious so I took him to the oncologist. Ultrasound and biopsy showed a tumor in his liver, that was thyroid cell in nature, which meant, the original cancer had spread to his liver (and lungs). He started chemo but lost the battle 2 days ago. Throughout the treatment, his attitude was great; despite losing weight, he was energetic and continued to love playing with his frisbee. We thought he was going to beat it, or at least be with us for several more months. I accepted the fact that we would have had to put him down once his quality of life diminished, when he couldn't run to catch his frisbee anymore. But until his last day, that's what he was doing, playing frisbee. That's why it was a complete shock to me and my husband when he died. The vet said one of the large tumors had burst and he bled internally, but he went quickly and did not suffer from pain. My husband is blaming himself, mainly because Idaho died after they played and he couldn't drive fast enough to the emergency room. I'm blaming myself for not getting him checked for recurrent cancer sooner. I should have taken him to the oncologist earlier this year. He lost valuable time because of me. The cancer grew because I didn't get him checked sooner. I failed him. We had promised him long ago that we'd find a house with a big backyard that he deserved. When the opportunity came up to move to Virginia (from California), we took it. We found the perfect property with a park-like backyard and he loved it. But he only got to enjoy it for 7 weeks. I loved this backyard but now every time I go outside, I end up crumbling, falling to my knees, crying and calling his name. The move to Virginia, this property, all pointless now. The backyard I once loved is now the loneliest place on the planet. We moved out here and bought this property for him. Everything we've done was for him. We tailored our life around him. And we would have done more. I can't believe he's gone. He was the best thing that ever happened to me. He changed my life. He changed me from someone who was afraid of animals to someone who could care so deeply for a dog and someone who ended up volunteering at a dog shelter. He did that. He made me a more caring person. He made me a better person. My husband is devastated too. He's trying so hard to comfort me and it's not fair that I can't do the same for him because I'm a mess. Please help me get through this.