I never really understood why people got upset when their pets died. It's one of those things, we all know animals have shorter life expectancies than us. My dog had to be put down this morning. She was only nine years old.

We knew she was sick, but we thought it was just some sort of arthritis, she was stiff and tired. Docile, a sweetheart.

She's been in our house for nine years. She's annoyed the hell out of me and made me laugh countless times. She loved the cottage, she loved pretending to hunt for her ball. Mom and I spongepainted a purple and turquoise dog house for her. I used to have to walk her everyday. She never ever listened.

Next time I make it home, she won't be there. I would never have expected to feel so sad. I feel silly. But I'm having a hard enough time adjusting to having a new home. Now my old home will be different forever. My parents used to say they hated the dog, but I know they didn't. There's absolutely nothing in the world I can do. I don't even know why I feel like I want to do something.

Nine years is a very long time. I always thought that saying your pet was part of your family was really cheesy. But now I'm not so sure. I saw her almost every day. I want to go home. I want to go back to yesterday and know that I'll never see her again and give her a biscuit or something stupid like that. I want a hug. I feel so ridiculous.