Rosie

Rosie is my dog. We got her when I was 10, and she was a wiggly little puppy. She was always so quiet and remarkably calm for a golden retriever. She likes leaning on people as they pet her, and coming up and putting her nose under your hand so you know she wants to be petted. When you come in the door, she makes happy growly sounds and brings you a "baby," usually her stuffed squirrel.

My mom just called and told me that she had bad news, and I immediately knew what it was. Rosie is getting old and sick, and they're going to put her to sleep this week. She has cancer, and is having trouble breathing. They're going to do it tomorrow or the next day. I'm so sad. She's my puppy, and she's not going to be there when I get home.