I know how that feels. When I was in high school I got my first dog, a German Shepherd named Thor. We were living in Orchard Park and my bother was living in Los Angeles when he got the idea he could earn a living breeding German Shepherd's So he air shipped us a puppy in a pet container[i had to meet my dog's flight at the airport! cool].
He was the friendliest dog on earth. We would just turn him out the door in the morning and he would come back at dinner time. All the kid's in the neighborhood knew him, in fact they nicknamed him"Thor-a-dor". He would hang with them all day, doing what they where doing. I really think he thought he was human, maybe just a little shorter then most
Then at age two, he started losing some fur. Nothing drastic, he was still healthy,but it was something that needed to be looked at.
So when I was at school, my Mom takes him to the Vet. He say's it's terminal, nothing we can do. So she has him put down.
I get home from school, and leaned what happened. I was putting my fist though the wall. I was never warned, consulted, or given a chance to say goodbye.
My Mother was a dear saint, but am not sure I will ever forgive her that day.