I had to put my dog Sasha down this morning. She was ten years old and my first dog. We don't know what happened to her, but suddenly she couldn't use her back legs. She had no feeling in them, but the rest of her was in pain. I came home from school, and immediatly told my mom that we where going to have to put her down. We gave her a couple of days, to see if she would come out of it (I knew she wasn't going to, but my mom was haveing a really hard time with it).
In the end my step-dad called and made the appointment and I took her in, it was the hardest thing for me to do, but it was only fair to her. I wish I had been strong enough to stay with her while they did it, but I didn't trust myself, and I couldn't watch her die.
Sasha was my first dog, I had her since she was eight weeks old. I never wanted a Fru-fru dog, and never owned one, she was my German Shepherd in cocker clothes. Stubborn, but one of the smartest dogs in the world. I really really miss her.
