Rosie was special. She was known by so many, and everyone would stop and have a chat about Rosie. When she was younger people thought she was a puppy because she was so teeny. Then when she started going grey people would stop and ask what breed she was as they'd never "seen one that colour!".

She was an enormous source of support to her family, including her Mummy Dot. She helped her get through some of the most awful times in her life and Rosie was always happy to wait for her mummy Dot to get back from Africa or wherever else she'd gone to work. I hope she forgave me for not always being there for her like she was for me.

In her younger days, Rosie loved a game of tuggy and loved to play "seaweeds" on the beach. She often used to find a rock she liked and would push it around and bark at it and wouldn't let anyone touch it. She found fisherman's wellies and crabs and dead fish and car tyres to play with. Half of the things she found made it home with her.

When we first got Rosie we discovered she was a chewer. She would chew or destroy anything. Mum's tomato plants and marigolds were the first to go. She chewed the door frame, and the table leg was another favourite - especially when it had that anti chew spray on. She must have loved the taste of it. She got hold of noodles and newspapers and bin liners and mushrooms. She'd throw them all round the kitchen when we weren't looking. She got a coconut once and didn't want to give that back!

As Rosie grew older she was happy with short walks by the sea and a comfy sofa. She loved visiting her mummy dot and even attended her first BBQ party aged 12. She turned up fashionably late with a gold bow on her collar. She told off the other dog and played all day with everyone who was willing.

You know when they're getting old that they don't live forever, and you think you're prepared. The truth is, nothing can prepare you for the loss of your best friend, and nothing can take the pain away when you realise you won't ever see their little face again. Those big brown eyes and silly little teefies. You don't realise how much you'll miss their crying for your takeaway food until you eat one in silence.

Some people would say "it's just a dog". I feel terribly sorry for these people as they have never experienced the love a dog can bring into your life. It's unconditional. They will be by your side no matter what and they ask for nothing in return. Of course, you provide them with the best. You bake them home made treats and take them on holidays in the countryside. You buy them ice cream and you knit blankets to keep them warm and snug. You feed them fillet steak mince when they pretend to not like their food. You take a bottle of mineral water with you on every walk as "she only likes fresh water". You fill the car with blankets and beds and you take them to the shop to choose their own soft toy.

I will happily take the pain I currently feel in losing Rosie for the rest of my life, knowing that I could call her my friend for those 12 and a half years. She had a wonderful life and it's comforting to know that, unlike many, she really was loved. The amount of trust a dog gives to you willingly has always amazed me. From the first day they come home with you and they sleep by your side, knowing you're there to protect them. Knowing Rosie trusted us to make the last decision for her is heartbreaking. I know we did the right thing and she needed to sleep. I hope she's dreaming of seaweeds.

Wish I had a dog like you.