I almost never post on threads that speak of the death of a pet - it's like I don't want to be reminded that this will eventually happen to us all who count fur babies as family members. We lost one at almost 16 years, and our current one is 10.5 years and pretty darned healthy, so hopefully have a few years to go.
That being said, and in hindsight it was kind of funny, the morning after my first D-day back in 2007, I had an already-scheduled appt. at our vet's office for some kidney issues our dog was having - she'd been through a couple of surgeries already for stones, was on special food, etc. At that point, less than 24-hours after a devastating discovery, the vet walked in, asked me how I was, and I broke down in that exam room, crying! I told her that my world was falling apart, and she needed to do whatever it took to eke out a few more years of our dog's life, because at that moment, I felt like our dog was the only constant in my life that brought me joy and a reason to live. I'm sure that vet still remembers that visit from 15 years ago! I mean, that's not quite what she signed up for, and was sort of above her pay grade, right? I was so embarrassed the next few times I had to see her (luckily our dog lived another four years), and kind of felt like I owed her an update, but never had the courage to bring up my crying episode again.
After we finally put our dog down, I meant to write the practice a letter, thanking them for their years of care, but it was just too painful to do. I won't make that mistake with our current dog. Vet practices aren't thanked enough for what they do, and many people don't realize that their salaries are very modest. It's not like they're rich like people doctors, although they spend just as much time in vet school.
A year or so ago, when all the vet's offices around here were totally inundated with COVID... people who had rescued dogs and cats and now needed care for them, I decided one day to bake a batch of brownies and drop them off at the office, as a thank you and understanding that I knew they were under enormous stress. When I handed them over to the front receptionist, I thought she was going to cry. I think a lot of practices had to deal with abusive pet owners during that time, and were beside themselves with frustration.
I hope that your vet's office was kind and understanding as you made that decision, even if they didn't know the other part going on in your story. I still follow our former vet's office on FB, despite our living 2000 miles away now, and yesterday they posted an image with the words: Every 52 days is a year in a dog's life. Time Flies. So take long walks, enjoy big hugs, and give lots of treats. It was a good reminder.