Death at close quarters

He's dying. I know it. The doctor knows it. I think he knows it too. I've known him but a fortnight but I'm going to miss him for a lifetime.
He is lying with his eyes shut beside me. I can feel him twitching in pain. It's painful to see him like this.
He's barely 40 days old. I'm not sure he's going to make it to 50.
The tears don't stop flowing. I'm not sure I even want to try stopping them.
I fought against the fatal pronouncement of his impending death. I fought for the 1% chance they gave him.
He continues to suffer. Because of my selfishness. Because I just can't let go.
I don't want to lose him. I don't want him to die.
But there is nothing more I can do. But his shorn head still continues filling me with guilt.
His heavy breathing and cries of pain fill me with dread. Not of pain but of humans. They did this to him. I did this to him.
I did this to myself. I had promised I would never fall in love again. But I did. And now my heart is broken. Again.
I hate dogs. I do.