We brought Princess home in October 1999. I was four years old, about to turn five in a few weeks. We had barely moved into a new house, my younger brother had just been born a few months ago, and my parents figured a puppy would complete the picture.

At the home of the woman who had the puppies, I was told I could choose one. A caramel-colored puppy eventually caught my eye as he bounded around. I was going to choose him. And then, a little black and white one wandered over and started licking my hand. I changed my mind.

The little black and white cocker spaniel puppy came home with us that day. I was beside myself with excitement and love. I remember sitting on the kitchen floor that night unwilling to leave the puppy and head to bed. My mom asked me what I would like to name her. Being only four, I wasn't sure, so I asked for suggestions. Some that I remember we Oreo, Lady, and Princess.

"I really like Princess," I said. "But I also like Lady. So... her name will be Princess, but her middle name will be Lady."

The years went on. Having a dog was one of the best things in my life, though there were times when I didn't always show it. But some of my favorite memories are sitting in the backyard sunshine with Princess by my side. Laying in the grass with her immediately rushing over to lick my face. The distinct jingle of her collar.

We both grew older. School, work, and friends consumed my time. Age began to take its toll on Princess. Her hips bothered her, one of her eyes went bad, and she eventually went completely deaf as well. My dad began starting conversations of putting Princess down. I said no. She could still live, she was still happy. She still had plenty of time.

Still, I tried spending more time with her, as losing her became more of a reality.

Fall set in. On October 30, my mom mentioned that Princess hadn't been eating much lately. I brushed it off as nothing, but still went outside later that day to check on her, and maybe bring her into the garage where it was warmer. She was asleep in her doghouse, and I didn't have the heart to wake her. An odd feeling came over me, though, and I sat there in front of her doghouse and cried for a few minutes.

Later that day, my mom carried Princess into the garage. She was in bad shape. She couldn't move, only stare at a person with those big brown eyes. Something was terribly wrong.

She didn't eat. She only drank water when the bowl was placed directly in front of her head. Everything took so much effort.

I sat in the garage with her for hours, just stroking her soft head. My cheeks were salty and wet for a long time. I knew that I was losing her.

By morning, I was surprised when I opened the door, and saw Princess slowly turn her head to look at me. I hadn't thought that she would make it through the night.

It was Halloween. A favorite holiday of mine, I was a bit grateful to go to school and be able to laugh with friends and have my mind wander away from what heartbreak was waiting at home.

My dad picked me up after school. He didn't say anything about Princess, so I didn't ask. No news was good news, I assumed.

And then I heard him say, "I had to put Princess to sleep, honey."

We both cried. Even though I had constantly said over the past year, "No, we are not putting Princess to sleep," I wasn't angry. After seeing her in such pain and suffering, I felt a little relieved that she was okay now.

I miss her. She was one of my best friends for twelve years. But I hold tight to the idea that she's in a better place.