So mid to late November my fiancee decided she wanted a puppy, I wasn't chuffed with this decision as we already have four dogs but hey ho, what she wants she gets. So one of her friends parents are breeders of French bulldogs and English bulldogs and she arranged to buy one of the English bulldog bitches, at this point in time I was still apprehensive, as I didn't fancy poo and pee duty until she was big and smart enough to go outside. However as soon as she brought little sandwiches (what we named her) home, my heart melted and I fell in love. She lit up my life like nothing else ever has, and then two days ago she died, she got in an argument over food with another one of our dogs (nothing physical bar a snarl and snap) and cowered away into a corner so my friend held and told off basically my bigger dog whilst I let sandwiches go upstairs thinking she would pootle up the stairs to the bedroom and I'd plop her on the bed, fuss her and then it would all be fine. However she made it to the top step and stopped and was gasping for air, I immediately called my fiancee as she was out of town on business and got my friend to call the vets, I had absolutely no idea what to do but within about 20 seconds her tongue was going blue so I tried to clear her throat thinking it was stuck food, Then I had her between my legs and I was squeezing her chest and ribs to try to get her to breathe, eventually I remembered that cpr was a thing and probably possible with dogs but it was too late. The crushing feeling of guilt is absolutely unbelievable, I can't help but think "if I had just left for work earlier she would be in her cage with her toy and her bed for a few hours and it would be ok", or "if I had just done cpr earlier she would have lived". Ultimately I feel like I let her down, she was perfect and already I miss her more than I've ever missed anything. I'm a tall, big lad, I box, I lift weights, but I'm breaking down like 50 times a day in floods of tears. I just hope I did enough to try to save her and comfort her at the same time, when I realised what I was doing wasn't working I just hugged her. I'm pretty sure it was shock/a heart attack, I feel so bad for not being able to help her. She was my princess. It's going to sound weird, and I'm not deeply religious (if anything I follow Germanic paganism) but I REALLY hope I see her again. Anyway, here is/are some photos of the fat, naughty little pile of wrinkles I had the pleasure of knowing.