It was July 7th, 2016. My two friends had spent the night at my house and woke up the next morning to the sound of my mom vacuuming the upstairs. Annoyed I had been woken up by the vacuum rolling across the wooden floor, I was about to walk upstairs and tell her to turn it off, when she came downstairs, woke me up and told me we needed to talk. Her voice was shaky like she had been crying. Without her saying anything, I knew what I was about to be told.

"Molls, it's time to put Rosie down."

My heart sank as if I had just gone down a huge drop on a roller coaster. My eyes were immediately filled with tears. I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening.

Yes, Rosie was 15 years old. Don't get me wrong, I would've been naive to think it wasn't going to happen sooner than later, but in my head she was fine. She still ran around and got excited when we got her food out, she still could jump up on the couch, she still could walk up the stairs as long as one of us was behind her to help her hips. To me, she was fine.

Our "appointment" was at 5:30 that day. I hated the word appointment. I kept thinking "Why do we have to schedule an appointment to put our dog down? Can't we just do it now and get it over with?" Apparently not.

I hated the fact that the entire day we were just waiting around, knowing what was about to happen and Rosie had no idea. I hated the fact that two days before, I was at my friend's lake house riding around on jet skis, no idea that in 48 hours I would have to do one of the hardest things of my life. I hated everything about the situation.

My oldest brother came over before to drive over to the vet with us. Unfortunately, my second oldest brother was a camp leader all summer in Okoboji and couldn't come home. We waited for my dad to come home from work so we could all leave together. My mom, brother and I sat in the living room in silence. I looked over at my 25 year old brother sitting in the chair and watched him wipe his eyes. That's the moment it kicked in. I started to cry again and this time I couldn't stop.

We arrived at the vet, settled into the room where it would happen and I said my goodbyes. Rosie always hated the vet, so she was hiding under the chair my dad was sitting in. My mom, dad and brother stayed in the room and watched the vet do his job, but no one could have payed me enough money to watch it. I sat out in the waiting room with her collar in my hand, trying to hold back my tears so I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of the receptionists.

Only about 5 minutes later, my mom walked out and asked if I was sure I didn't want to see her one last time.

"Are you sure, honey? She just looks like she's sleeping."

I nodded and walked back over to the room, opened the door, saw her laying there and walked right back out. It did just look like she was sleeping but I couldn't bare the fact that she'd never wake up.

My mom held me while I continued to cry. We left probably 10 minutes later. It was weird, that we just left and didn't have to take care of anything else.

Coming home to an empty house that night was hard. It's been 6 months and every time I come home from school I still think she's going to be waiting at the door because, I mean, that's how it was for 15 years, it's hard to not be used to that. I swear sometimes I can even hear the sound of her footsteps and the clanging of her collar around the house. I'm crazy, I know.

Never underestimate the heartbreak you have to go through when putting your dog, or any pet in that case, down. It sounds silly, but it truly was one of the hardest days of my life.

I still miss you every single day Rose, but I know you're eating lots of peanut butter up in doggy heaven.

xoxo