Rosie was only 17 years old when she died due to lethal injection. She was so full of life and energy. She lit up a room whenever she pranced through it. Her personality endeared her to all and even in her last few moments, she forgave those who injected her because her nature wouldn't have allowed otherwise. There was no one more loyal, more comforting and more willing to love.
Rosie is...was...my family dog of 17 years and while young in our years, dog years allowed her at least 119 years.
I was at work when I found out the news. My mother had dutifully sent me an email as she does when any family event takes place. Granted, she had given me plenty of warning. I hadn't seen her more than a week ago when she told me that they had decided to put her down. In her old age, Rosie had developed arthrytis, loss of hearing and nearly the loss of her sight. She stumbled around the house aimlessly and hardly ate. I suppose it was the most humane choice. But even though it wasn't done by me personally, I can't find myself willing to come to terms with killing my own dog.
RIP Rosie. You will be missed
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