For eight months, I watched my dog Luna, scratch herself raw every single night.
The sound of her scratching kept me awake this relentless rhythm that echoed through our house at 2 AM, 3 AM, 4 AM. I'd lie there in agony, listening to her suffer, feeling completely helpless.
That corn chip smell got so strong I could smell it from my bedroom. Her paws were red, swollen, bleeding from constant licking. Sometimes I'd sit on the floor holding her paws just to give her five minutes of peace.
She used to be my happy, playful girl. Now she'd look at me with these exhausted eyes, like she was asking, "Why can't you fix this?"
It was torture. Watching someone you love suffer every single day, knowing you're failing them.
I hadn't slept through the night in months. Neither had she.
I was terrified I was losing her – not to death, but to this relentless torment that was stealing her spirit, one sleepless night at a time.