The dog we got when I was 8 years old.

She was 12 years old and over the last 2-3 months she went downhill rapidly.

Dad couldn't do it, she's his baby, so DH took her to the vet yesterday and had her put down, bought her home in a little coffin and we had a little funeral out the back with my brothers.

Dad sent a letter for the vet saying why we made this decision because he didn't want to have the vet think we were just doing it for the sake of it.
One of the things he listed was the terrible, gargling cough she had, how panty she was, and how bad she sounded.

The vet gave her a quick check before putting her to sleep and said that the cough and everything was due to her being in heart failure. Her heart was backing up into her lungs, the brown muck she was vomiting up was blood. She really only had a few days left in her.

We are now happy she went on a 'good day', but sad at the same time knowing she would have passed at home very soon.

But, gutted that we ever had to make this decision.

I've never really lost a pet before, especially not one we've had for so long. 12 years.