The doctors allowed the dog to enter the room to say goodbye to his owner – a few hours later, the nurse walked in and screamed in horror

The hospital room felt still and muted, lit only by the faint glow of machines and the slowing beat shown on a monitor—steady at first, then weakening, then fading. In the bed rested an 82-year-old man, his breaths shallow, his skin fragile like thin paper. The cancer had spread beyond help. Treatment had ended. The doctors quietly explained he had only a few hours left—maybe a day.

But what weighed on him wasn’t the nearness of death. It was the thought of leaving behind the one companion who had never left his side.

Each morning, as the nurse adjusted his IV or straightened the sheets, he would glance toward the window and murmur, “Ritchie… where are you, buddy?”

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