But I needed someplace to put this, and I figured here was as good a place as any.  Tonight I'm going to take my dog, 14 years old, to the vet to be put down.  She was the first dog I ever had as an adult, and she's been with me for 12 of her 14 years.  
 
I guess that's not entirely true.   She was really my ex-wife's dog -- she got her from my Uncle when we were dating in college -- but when we divorced she left the dog with me, claiming that she was getting a roommate who was allergic to dogs.  Since then I've held a small grudge against this miniature dachshund, who has been blind since 2 years old and who underwent back surgery when she was three to avoid paralysis.   
 
She smells bad, and hates baths, and she barks a lot because she never could tell where she was most of the time, but I never stopped loving this dog, and I felt bad that she didn't get as much attention these last few years as she used to.   Still, I fed her good food and took her for walks every so often, and she had a nice yard to run in and sun herself in.   
 
But she's been having accidents in the house, and try as I can, I don't have the heart to make her an outdoor dog.   It's too cold here during the winter, and too hot in the summer.  This morning my wife (I since remarried) found the dog laying on a pillow in our son's room.  She had peed and not bothered to even get up.  She's lost her dignity and doesn't seem happy as a dog anymore.  
 
I'm 34 years old, married with two kids and a mortgage.  I have a Master's degree and am for all intents and purposes all grown up.   But right now the door to my office is locked, the sign outside says I'm on a conference call, but I'm actually trying really hard to not let people hear me crying.  
 
I don't know if I can ever own a dog again.   This is too hard.
 
The vet asked me if I want to be in the room with her tonight when they put her down.  I started crying when she asked me because I knew I couldn't say yes.   I watched my grandmother die in a hospital while I was holding her hand, but when she went I was telling her it would be ok, and she let me know it was ok by squeezing my hand back.  I don't know if I have the strength tonight, so I'm going to kiss her goodbye and get back into my car and cry some more.