It's been exactly seven days since I first wrote this; since this happened.
Please pardon me for any unusual/simple grammatical or spelling errors you may find... It's hard to type when you're blind with tears.
Nine and a half years ago, my dad felt something calling out to him. Our old great dane, Sam, had just died, and we wanted another one. So he searched online, all of a sudden looking for anyone selling them with brindle coloring. The nearest place where a litter of brindle pups had been born was Indiana.
My dad and his friend drove for a few days straight; I think it was a day and a half to get there and a day and a half to get back.
My memory sucks, but my first memory of Tygra is probably one of my clearest and most vivid.
It was about seven-ish in the evening, and the car drove into the driveway. The back was opened, and Dave (my brother) and I got our first view of that big tiger-colored great dane puppy. She was excited, pacing around, and when she was taken out of there to run around for a few moments, we all just knew that she was going to be an amazing dog.
And so she was. She grew, barked, ran around with her tongue lolling about, and didn't chase the cats. I think that she's only had two accidents in the house before, both of which were recently and completely understandable due to what happened.
So her body stopped growing bigger, and it started to get older. Meanwhile she was still just a puppy. Just that heavy, floppy-eared, excited little puppy who liked to chillax on the second step of the stairs.
We knew that we'd only have about a decade with her; great danes and other big dogs tend to live shorter lives.
She developed arthritis in her back legs. It gradually got worse, to the point that a few weeks ago she stopped going upstrais (minus one occasion).
She started peeing blood.
We took her to the vet, and they checked for tumors. We expected there to be many big ones. There were none visible in that test. We could have taken another test, a more thorough one, to test for smaller tumors, but it would have cost more time, money, and effort than what it was worth.
This past summer, we knew that she wasn't going to see another May birthday.
We started talking about putting her down around October/November-ish, and I hoped that we all could wait until after Christmas.
When she started getting worse, we knew that we couldn't wait.
So today was the day that I had been both unconciously and conciously dreading for the past nine and a half years. All four of us were dreading it.
We all gathered around and petted her as the vet came and put her down. It was quick and painless.
I can't remember ever seeing any of my family cry, and I can't remember if I've ever cried this much or felt this sad.
Tygra was amazing, the best dog I've ever had. I'd say that I wish we'd had more time with her, but then how much time would we need? Another ten years? Twenty? Thirty? With Tygra, eternity wouldn't be enough time to spend with her.
I never want to get another great dane ever again.
So if I'm quieter than usual this week, you know why. If I become angrier than usual this week, then you know why. If I spend many minutes at a time staring at a spot on the wall, unblinking, and nearly unmoving, then you know why.
Because eternity is never enough.
Katie Sea Community Member 
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