Thanks everyone. Our hearts are still just aching. He was such an incredible guy. We're focusing our energy on spoiling the heck out of his little sister (Daisy, 5yo brindle EM) and she's comforting us as well. And yes, I am grateful that he wasn't sick or ill or hurting for a period of time. It was just so sudden and unexpected. It's also the first time we've lost a dog at home...it's always been controlled, in the vet's office...I just can't stop recalling the ache in my husband's voice when he said "Bruce is lying there and won't get up and I think he's dead." And I can't stop recalling seeing him lying there, his body void of life. I'll always wonder if we had stayed home would this not have happened? It was my fault we were gone that evening. I feel like I was so selfish, since we were gone because of me (I had an event I agreed to do). We almost never go out anywhere. I know all those things are stupid for me to mull over. The why's and the how's and what-if's, but still... Then I wonder of he waited for us to leave. Did he chose that evening to die, knowing the kids weren't going to be home? Did he chose then to spare them the pain of seeing their parents in agony (it was pretty bad here with how we carried on). We're trying to focus on the good memories he left us with. Shortly after we adopted him (he was 80 pounds, 6 mo old) our baby was sitting in the living room on the floor with half a grilled cheese sandwich in his little fist. He was less than a year old. I was on the couch watching him. Bruce walked up and all of a sudden my son's arm was elbow deep in Bruce mouth. He and Bruce just kinda looked at each other. I wasn't worried. I never for a moment thought my son was in danger. His arm slid out of Bruce's mouth, minus the sandwich half. Mastiff had expertly and gently separated sandwich from baby hand. The baby was unharmed in anyway, just a bit slobbered on, but when he looked down and saw that his grilled cheese was gone he started just sobbing. Not long after, our middle son (who was maybe 3?) walked into the backyard looking for his dad (who was in the front yard). Bruce and our corgi were out on the back deck. The corgi attacked our son, leaving a wound on his finger. Bruce got between the two and saved our son from anymore damage. So many camping trips. Driving across the country and back. Zooming thru the yard. Begging for belly rubs. So many memories...