The second cruel day

I don't know what I've done to deserve this. My Thrasher is gone.

He was 13 in November. I woke up this morning and went to let him out of his crate and found him lying in vomit. He got up, went out and pottied, but was clearly an unhappy dog.

He refused food, water and treats and vomited two more times, so we took the same drive we took with Thomas yesterday and kissed him goodbye. He went to the bridge with his favorite stuffed toy in his mouth. My vet is going to do a brief necropsy and look for an obvious reason.

This was my first Flatcoat. He was a curmudgeon of a dog--particular about having things HIS way. I don't know what I'm going to do without him.

UPDATE: The vet found no abnormalities in his heart, lungs, spleen, liver, kidneys and intestines. What they did find was a mass at the base of his tongue and on the left side of his larynx. This was causing the vomiting and the difficulty breathing--it was basically cutting off his airway. My poor boy--such a tough fellow. Unfortunately, we didn't know what to expect, so no samples were saved for the research studies...