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There are no words to truly capture the depth of our pain. No way to articulate the sheer devastation, heartbreak, and anguish that has shattered our world.
Just two weeks ago, we were holding onto hope. Clinging to the idea that we had more time—at least a year—to cherish, love, and fight for our sweet boy. Blue was more than a dog; he was our best friend, our protector, and a soul so pure and extraordinary that his love felt almost otherworldly. He was a once-in-a-lifetime companion, woven into the very fabric of our lives. And now, in the cruelest twist of fate, he’s gone.
The Nightmare Unfolds
For months, we watched Blue battle. We did everything we could—every treatment, every option, every possible path to healing. And it was working. Slowly but surely, the mass on his neck was shrinking. Every few days, it was getting smaller, offering a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, we could win this fight.
Then, in the span of mere days, everything changed.
After receiving his Cytopoint injection for his allergies, Blue’s progress reversed with a speed so horrifying it felt unreal. His neck, once showing steady improvement, turned into a ticking time bomb. What had been slowly retreating over the past two months exploded into unstoppable growth. A golf ball-sized lump emerged within three days. By day six, it was the size of a baseball. And then… destruction. The kind of nightmare you can’t wake up from. The kind that leaves you screaming into the void, begging for a different reality.
We were robbed. Blue was robbed.
Our precious boy, who should have had years left to run, play, and love, was stolen from us in the most gut-wrenching, excruciating way imaginable. His time was cut short—not by nature, but by something we now suspect played a role from the very beginning.
A Warning That Comes Too Late
There is no doubt in our minds that Cytopoint acted as gasoline on the fire. And worse—there is reason to believe it may have been the culprit all along. We are left drowning in grief, but also in the sickening realization that this information needs to be shared. That others deserve to know. That this cannot happen to another beloved companion. We adopted Blue from a well-known Doberman breeder with 50 years of experience breeding them. Her dogs live to 12-13 years of age and none she knows of died of Soft Tissue Sarcoma.
We have opened a case with the manufacturer, but the truth is, nothing will bring our Blue back. Nothing will undo the horror of watching the light leave his eyes far, far too soon.
To Those Who Loved Blue With Us
To everyone who supported us, who donated, who sent prayers, who held hope alongside us—we see you. We are eternally grateful for your love, your kindness, and your belief in our fight. We wish with everything in us that this update was different. That we were sharing photos of Blue running in the snow, basking in the sun, living the long and happy life he so desperately deserved.
Instead, we are left with an emptiness so profound it feels unbearable. The house is too quiet. His bed sits untouched. His collar rests in our hands, a painful reminder of everything we’ve lost.
This was not how it was supposed to end.
But we will never stop loving him. Never stop missing him. Never stop fighting in his name.
Blue, you were more than just a dog. You were our heart, our family, our greatest love. And nothing—not even death—will ever change that.
We love you, sweet boy. Run free.
💔
