Nine years ago we lost our best friend, his name was Zeus. It was Christmas eve, my sisters sixteenth birthday, it was rough. I remember being at the vet while he was being put down and my parents asking what we wanted to do that day—I was crying saying I wanted another dog, I was nine and he was my world. I already missed him and he wasn't even gone.

A couple weeks later, my dad took me, my sister and our friend to this house where he went inside then called us in to help with something. Little did we know, we were there to rescue this dog.

I walked into the house, which reeked of urine, and saw Rosie. Her tail wagging because we were the only people she had seen aside from the ladies who "raised" her.

At a year and a half old, Rosie had never seen the outdoors. We took her in the car, her tail still wagging, she was covered in fleas and had been living in her own feces. We took care of the fleas, and took her to our friend who is a groomer and she gave her a flea bath. Blood dripped off of this poor dog who I had already fallen in love with.

When we finally got her cleaned up we brought her home, to her new forever home. I never thought rescuing a dog would be a thing for our family. Rosie is our little princess and rescuing a dog was one of the greatest things I think we have done as a family. The question we always bring up is "who rescued who?" I think Rosie rescued us, she is the sweetest ten and a half year old dog I have ever met and is still as hyper as a puppy.