A loving tribute to Jackson - “Gosya”, a cherished Maltese remembered with love by Serguei.
On the night of April 28th, we were struck by a brutal blow. Time stopped. Bitter grief spilled into everything around us. Our little fluffy bundle of happiness left us — our Jackson, whom at some point we began to lovingly call "Gosya." An unbelievable tragedy.
He was with us for twelve years. Twelve years of magical joy and love. Our entire life was illuminated by his spontaneous, joyful emotions, his playful passion, and his absolute trust. Now, for days, pain and longing have been burning and paralyzing us. Grief and tears follow us no matter what we do.
How it began
It started a couple of months ago. We noticed he began drinking a lot of water, very often. I even joked: "Gosya, you're such a water-drinker." But he kept getting thirstier and thirstier. Finally, we became worried and made an appointment with the vet.
A couple of weeks ago, when we brought him in for an exam, the vet took X-rays and said it looked like he had a tumor in his abdomen. An ultrasound was needed. We called our previous hospital — where he had gotten his vaccines and other procedures — and scheduled a date.
But the disease progressed too quickly.
April 28th
In the morning, my wife made him a delicious meal. He ate well and went for a walk.
In the afternoon, I saw that he wasn't feeling well. He became lethargic and lay around with sad eyes. In the evening, around 6:00 pm, I let him out into the backyard. He could barely move and came back inside quickly. Inside, he kept lying down on the cold floor and began breathing very fast and loudly.
Soon Alena came home. We decided to go to the 24-hour emergency vet.
The final journey
I picked him up in my arms. His little paws hung limply. I held him close to me, and we got into the car. I could feel him struggling to breathe — I felt his breath on my hand.
When we arrived, they immediately asked for his name. Then they took him away for an exam.
A few minutes later, they invited us into a room. The vet said that our Gosya was in very bad condition. They had placed a catheter and needed our permission for a blood transfusion. I asked how serious it was. She said they needed to stabilize him first. I told her to do whatever was necessary.
A couple of minutes later, she came back into the waiting room.
She said he was in a borderline state — between life and death. They could try to resuscitate him, give him a transfusion, perform surgery if needed. But it would only prolong his agony by a few days.
We asked to be let in to see him in the operating room.
We walked in. Our little fluffy bundle was lying there with a mask over his face. I asked why the mask. They told me it was a pain relief mixture so he wouldn't feel the catheter being placed.
Then they said: his heart had stopped.
And suddenly, he moved his paw.
I still had hope. Somewhere inside me, hope was still flickering — that he would pull through, that he would come back to us. But the vet said: those are post-death twitches.
Then he opened his mouth a little. I still hoped. But tears were already choking me. I could barely hold back sobs.
Alena was sobbing without stopping. I tried to talk to him. I stroked him — not fully realizing that he was no longer with us.
There he lay — so warm, so fluffy. The one who had been with us for twelve years. The one who had raised our grandchildren with his love and kindness. Now lying helplessly in front of us.
And then I broke down. I sobbed like a child.
