sad and freaking all at the same time

I'm dog-sitting. Oscar (also known as Bubba) belongs to my dear friend Sara. She calls him "Issue Dog" yet loves him dearly and unashamedly. There's a lot of Oscar to love. He's not very big, but his personality is. He's a Boston Terrier, makes snorty noises, is deaf, knows sign language, has epilepsy, wears a yellow slicker poncho thing when he goes out in the rain. He's a trip.
I've had him since last week, when Sara went home to see her family. The first few days were hard: he kept relieving himself in my dining room and kitchen (poop in the kitchen, pee in the dining room), christened all the rugs in those rooms, wouldn't take his epilepsy medication, and was just being a stinker.
But the last couple of days, as we've gotten used to each others schedules and I started putting him in his crate during the day, we've been getting along better and he just seemed happier.

Then I come home yesterday in the storm, looking forward to putting his coat on him and letting him look like ET in it. But as I shook him to wake him up, he didn't move. He wasn't breathing. It took me a few minutes to move mentally from "he's not breathing...what do I do" to "he's not breathing. He probably hasn't been for hours and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it."

The I started making phone calls. The first was to Lisa, fellow Sara and Oscar lover. "to hear her tell it, I said "He's not breathing, get over here. [click]" But I think I must have said something else during our 51 second conversation. Then I left a message with one of my roommates and got ahold of the other. It was good to talk to her. It made me calm down some. I just have this need to talk about it, even now. Then I called my mom and dad. Then we got a call from a marketing research company. I'm sure they get the "I'm sorry, I can't talk to you now because my friend's dog that I'm taking care of just died and now is not a good time" excuse all the time, but this time it was really real. Oh well.

Lisa came, we called Sara, really really really hard for both of us. I cried. She cried. If I've ever wanted to believe in Doggy Heaven, it was there. we cleaned up his mess and took him to the after hours clinic where they'll keep him until Sara comes home.

The whole thing just breaks my heart--mostly for Sara, but also for this feeling that this is not how God intended life to be. He didn't intend for our hearts to break over and over when someone or something we love dies. He didn't intend for our bodies to battle illness and diseases and pain. But we do. My heart longs for the day when we won't have to anymore.