I knew this day was coming. The day they would tell me that she was gone. Tell me, the next time I came home, she wouldn't be there. I've been preparing myself for this day for a long time, and yet every time I thought it was close, she some how managed to pull through. Every time she'd perk back up, and I'd hear that she was fine, back to causing trouble or peeing in the house. But not this time; this time it came without warning and this time she can't fight back.

She was my dog, and my best friend. . . and I'm not sure what to do now.