Our dog died this morning.

He was going to be two years old tomorrow. I was asleep and so was my dad but my mom took him out to play fetch as she does every morning and I guess he just... like... collapsed. She came in screaming that he'd died which is what woke up me and my dad. They're taking him to the vet now and I ...got showered and dressed. I've been shaky and my mouth is dry, is that shock? IDK. We've had dogs and lost them before, but it was always at the end of long lives and always when we took them to be put to sleep, so it was never a shock.

This is completely unbelievable to me and to the rest of us because there was absolutely no indication ever that anything was the slightest bit wrong with the dog. On the contrary, he was the healthiest, fittest damn dog we'd ever owned, compared to the one with epilepsy and the one who had like four surgeries before he was four.

I am upset but mostly shocked I think and primarily upset for my mom, because she loved this dog. He was her baby. And obviously she was not even the slightest bit prepared for this, and because she was the one playing fetch with him she thinks she should've stopped or somehow known.

RIP, Loki. For two years you were the happiest, friendliest dog I've ever seen.