Pet Loss Help

Maudie was a Maremma sheep dog, and my bestfriend. I got her when she was 9 weeks old. She was the most adorable ball of fluff I had ever seen. Everyone wanted to pet her and cuddle her.  However,  it became apparent very quickly that she was not a people dog. After two dog training classes and a month long attempt at doggie day care, she was over it. My girl did not like strangers and she let them know that touching her and being friends was not an option. I felt deafeated by this at first, but we worked it out. 

I live in a rural area with a huge fenced in yard. What Maude lacked in social skills she more than made up for in every other way. She was so loving to my boyfriend and I. She got along great with our airdale and all three of our cats. My girl had zero separation anxiety. She never tore anything up or pottied in the house. I always felt safe with her.  She was my brave girl and always up for an adventure. The maremma breed is typically used to guard sheep and other livestock from predators. My family became her flock and she guarded our home and us from any danger. 

 Maudie loved to play in her kiddi pool in the summer, but at heart she was a winter dog. My girl adored the snow. We have a dog door so she could come and go as she pleased. She would choose to lay outside in the snow for hours. Maudie liked catching snowballs and eating ice. Silly girl liked to bury her balls in the snow too.  She also loved running by my 4wheeler, going on hikes and cuddling. If I sat down she would sit in my lap (all 100 pounds of her) or lay her head on my leg. Miss Maudie also adored getting butt rubs, she would dance in place for them. Maude wasnt an everyone dog, but she was the best dog to me. If I could only use one word for her, it would be loyal. Unfortunately she only got live for 2 years and 7 months. I wont go into details about her death, I will only say it was a fast acting illness and it was completely unexpected. It seems terribly unfair that she got so little time. Despite the heart ache of losing my companion at such a young age, I wouldnt trade the time I did get for anything. I miss her everyday and am so thankful I had her in my life. I love you Miss Maudie. You may be gone but you wont ever be forgotten. 

Recently, I had to say goodbye to the dog I have most closely bonded to in my whole life. She was in my arms and knew that my family and I loved her infinitely so.

I doubt that the red merle Aussie breed needs an introduction, but I can’t hold back gushing about her. <3 Back in 2010, our regular clinic was contacted by an affiliate about a red merle stuffed in a box on their front door in the morning. Knowing of our undying love of Aussies, our clinic informed us that this dog was in need of a loving home. We were more acquainted with the blue merle, but upon seeing her hyper, goofy self running around our back yard and cuddling in our laps, it was a no-brainer. <3

That was when I was a freshman in college and from then on, I moved out soon after graduation. But, during the time that Ellie and I did have together, oh Lordt, we lived it up. She loved chasing me in the backyard and nipping at my heels/hands like the sheepdog she was. I taught her to sit, shake a paw, and hi-five. One of my fondest memories was, during the few months I lived with my parents after college, I took her on walks around the neighborhood. We’d get all excited and freak out about the walk, I’d leash her up, and she’d throw the garage door open and I’d have to run to keep up with her, lest she run so fast to the end of the leash and choke her. XD Even up to her final days, when I was getting ready to hook up my current puppup, she thought it was time to go on –our- walks like 5 years ago. <3

She lived with my parents, but even they agree that in actuality, she was –my- dog. This is my first truly personal face-to-face with mortality. Of course the pain is hellish at first, but I have begun to incorporate viewing life the way she would. We as humans too easily get bogged down by oh-woe-is-me and stuck in excuses. Now I am even more forgiving of people, not as easily irritated, and in general I have a different perception of life. The fact that it takes a huge loss to realize what matters and what does not can feel unfair, but so be it. I know she still walks with me everywhere I go until we reunite on the Rainbow Bridge and until then, I will live more like the loving, goofy, authentic red merle Aussie named Ellie.

Love you forever, my puppy bunny.

I met Sandy in the fall of 2001.  She had been brought in as a stray to the veterinary hospital where I worked.  I’m not sure why I decided I wanted a dog since I had always owned only cats.  Actually she wasn’t even my first choice of which dog to take home. There was another little dog that seemed a better fit for me who was also in need of a home.  But when that dog was taken by someone else, one of the vets suggested that Sandy seemed like a nice dog.  Am I ever glad that fate intervened and brought us together!  When I took her home with me on November 21, 2001 I was in the midst of the darkest period of my life and certainly needed a good friend.  Sandy was that and so much more!  She was the one friend who loved me and was always glad to show me unconditional love no matter what.  She stayed faithfully at my side through the bad times and helped me become the person she had always seen in me. 

For the first eight years, we took care of each other.  Although, I certainly felt like I was getting more than I was giving.  Then my life was further enriched by meeting Frank. While Sandy was clearly skeptical about him and the purpose of his existence in her life, she reluctantly allowed him to join our family.  However Sandy never let Frank forget that she considered his presence contingent on her approval!  She tried to get him well-trained to meet her every desire, although she evidently thought his ability was lacking.  Sandy really liked to travel and explore new places.  Together we became ardent battlefield trampers at Civil War sites.  Sandy loved to lead the way in battlefield explorations. When she would get sidetracked by a wonderful smell, she would always insist on returning to her rightful place as “Lead Dog”.  As much as she loved these excursions, she was always thrilled to come back home.  Racing around the house and jumping on the bed, she would have the biggest smile on her face because she loved her home and the two people she shared it with. 

Time goes by much too quickly!  The vet had judged Sandy to be between the ages of 2 and 5 years in 2001, but it wasn’t until fall of 2017 that age started to take its toll on her.  She continued to try to take care of me but then finally decided that Frank would have to take over that job.  Just a few days short of our 17^th anniversary together, Sandy let me know that the last full measure of devotion I could show her would be to let her go.  While it was the hardest thing that I have ever done, I saw that I would have to say goodbye to the best friend I will ever have.  My heart is broken now, but I look forward to crossing the Rainbow Bridge with my Sandy someday!

We have been a Westie family since 1989. Meggie, our third Westie, joined our family in November of 2003 as a puppy. For  almost 15 years, Meggie was absolutely one of a kind. Despite all of our attempts to crate train her at night, she wore us down and made her way into our bed where she slept her entire life. She loved to watch TV and barked and made all sorts of weird noises when she saw ANY type of animal, animated or real. She was extremely independent - didn’t get the best marks in puppy class - but she loved people and thought everyone she saw was her friend. Her favorite thing in the whole world was her daily walk.  Once her leash was on, she would prance out the door and life was good, SO, SO good.

In 2012 we “rescued” four year old Cassie from a breeder.  The first time we put her collar and leash on to go for a walk, she had no idea what we were going to do. Cassie craved attention, and she showered me and everyone else with kisses. Like Meggie, she loved people and managed to coerce everyone to pet her by petting us with her paw. She loved toys - the faster she could kill a squeaker the better. Cassie’s favorite thing was meal time. She was such a happy Westie, a delightful presence in our home. Meggie and Cassie were best buddies. We loved to watch them chase and spar with each other. They brought us - and each other - so much happiness.

The day after being diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer, we had to say goodbye to our 10 year old Cassie. We were in shock as she had seemed so healthy and vivacious. Sadly, we started to lose Meggie as well. Besides being her companion, Cassie had become Meggie’s eyes and ears in Meggie’s senior years. Meggie lost her will to live and literally died of a broken heart. Almost two months to the day that we said goodbye to Cassie, Meggie left us to go find her friend. Our hearts were were still aching from the loss of Cassie, but they broke when Meggie was gone. We have a video of the two of them playing and chasing each other, and we can only imagine that was how their reunion was on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge. Be happy, our little Westies, until we meet again.

My dog Pip, a red tri-colour Border Collie, passed away on the 19^th August 2017, at the age of 11 years old.  He was my best friend, my soulmate, my steady companion, my boy.  I met him when he was 9 months old, at my Uncle’s farm in Ireland, and it was love at first sight.  He was to work sheep there, and had great prospects, being the son, and spitting image, of his sire Craig, who was the first red Border Collie, and second ever Irish dog, to take the title of International Supreme Champion Sheepdog in 2004 (owned and trained by Toddy Lambe of Curracloe).  Despite this, my Uncle kindly passed ownership of Pip to me, when I moved to the farm from Scotland in 2007, shortly after meeting him.  Pip changed my life for the better, in every way.  He taught me unconditional love, responsibility, trust, and the joy of everlasting friendship.  He made me feel safe, and was a great comfort to me, when life was hard.

I brought him back to Canada with me in 2008, after 10 years of living abroad.  The journey was hard for us both, but we had each other, and our bond deepened with every walk and new adventure.  Sheep-herding with Elf Stockdogs was something we loved to do together, as were our trail walks in the river valley, and our excursions around the neighbourhood.  He was an exceptional sheepdog, as well as a kind and gentle soul, of such intelligence and beauty.  Pip sired one litter, with the lovely Athena, and was the father of five wonderful pups. 

It broke my heart to lose him, and the pain of his absence is no less now, a year later.  He was such an important part of our family, and I am truly blessed to have had him in my life.  Thank You Pip, I will always love you my sweet friend.

The story of Nico (2004 – 2017)

What makes Nico truly unique and irreplaceable is that he lived with my family and me during a crucial period in our lives. He joined us as a tiny pup soon after our big move to Florida—the story goes that my dad sold his Nikon camera to pay the breeder, hence ‘Nico’—and lived with us through 13 years full of decisive events and experiences: buying and selling our first house, receiving my newborn nephews and niece, going to college, moving out after my first job, discovering what I want to do with my life, starting grad school, and the partial disintegration of my family along the way. Through good and bad, in one house or the other, he was there: a gorgeous white fuzz ball with an orange coat, and bulging, nonjudgmental eyes.

I watched Nico grow old and I watched him die: from a prickly-toothed puppy, to a frenzied yapper running in circles around the house, then up and down the stairs, shaking his favorite toy from side to side, to his senior days when his little body slowed down. He was the most beautiful Pom I ever saw.  

The most bittersweet memories are those of his daily routines—a reminder of both how deeply connected to us our pets can be and of how transient all life is: of how little consequence our own routines and rituals. Every day after his morning poop, during his last year or so, Nico would grab his daily slice of FreshPet from his bowl and take it to a specific spot he chose under a chair at the dining table. After eating, he would walk to the living room and—with his front legs extended forward and his head down, his hind legs straight and his butt sticking up—he’d push his head down against the carpet (his favorite napkin) to wipe himself off; first one side, then the other. Or his favorite spots to lie down: I can still picture him pushing my door open, which I’d leave ajar for him to come in and lie by my laundry bag late at night. That was Nico. Those were his little routines. He was one of us.

There’s a sadness we all share, as pet owners, about the illusion that they are self-aware and conscious of us: we want them to know how much we love them, we talk to them in silly voices, we make believe that we’re heard, appreciated, even loved back. I think, for instance, of the don’t-you-leave-me-here dread in Nico’s eyes when he turned to look at me as the vet assistant took him away for intravenous feeding after his last emergency visit… Little did we know that he had several tumors growing in his belly; little did I know he wouldn’t be coming back home with me.

I watched Nico die in peace as he was euthanized—his pupils losing focus and ebbing away; his last breath imperceptible. I am grateful I was able to be there for him. Some regret, I suppose, is not unusual: I wish I’d taken him to the nearby dog park I always meant to; I wish I’d washed him more often; I wish I’d spent more time sitting on the floor with him, messing about; I wish I’d taken him to the vet months sooner. But maybe he didn’t mind; maybe he was happy in his timeless unawareness…  

I am grateful that Nico was with my family and me during these eventful years; I am grateful he wasn’t sick or in pain for too long. But most of all, I am grateful for every single moment of happiness he gave us. I will always miss him.

It was a beautiful summer evening; there was excitement and anticipation in the air. Gina my German Shepherd was pregnant and expecting to deliver at any moment. I had adopted both Gina and Blake from a colleague who had good intentions but could no longer care for them. Neither one of them had their vaccinations, Gina was not spayed and Blake a very handsome malamute husky wasn’t neutered hence the reason for Gina’s pregnancy, by the time we realized it was too late and not ethical to terminate the pregnancy. I was also the proud human parent of two wonderful cats Joshua and Sox, there were of course present, not sure how excited they were but at the very least true to cats they appeared to be curious.

My Goddaughter Aleena and her brother Alex were spending the night, their mother Alyse; a very good friend of mine wanted her kids to witness the upcoming birth of Gina and Blake’s puppies. We stayed up late waiting for Gina to start delivering her babies, I had created a warm, safe place for Gina in my second bedroom with clean sheets and towels, Aleena, Alex and I must have fallen asleep, just after 2am I awoke to the sound of Gina whimpering, I woke up Aleena and Alex, it was time. At 230am Gina delivered her first puppy then the second, the third and then the fourth, Alex and Aleena were wonderful assistants providing clean towels and helping to keep the pups warm.

Right away I noticed a problem with the fourth pup; she was tiny in comparison to the three puppies that had preceded her. I set her down next to her mother and said a little prayer. I thought puppy number four was the last but 10 minutes later puppy # 5 (my favorite number) was delivered into my world, she was larger than puppy #4 but much smaller than the others. Little did I know it at the time but this beautiful puppy (puppy #5) would change my life forever. Pups 6,7 and 8 came in short order, sadly despite our best efforts the fourth puppy, the smallest of the liter died shortly after birth, she was simply too small and fragile to sustain life. I named her Kudoka which means “little one” in Swahili; I wrapped her in a cloth and buried her in our yard underneath a beautiful elm tree.

My intention was to find homes for all of these wonderful puppies but I had developed an attachment to puppy #5, my friends and I had to bottle feed her because she was too small and weak to take her mother’s nipple. I was able to find homes for all of the puppies with friends of mine but Lola had stolen my heart, I know this because I had given her a name, Lola, my beautiful Lola…

Lola was both a Daddy’s and Mommy’s girl, she loved her parents and they loved her right back, whenever I would give them all treats Lola did her best to push her 90lb Dad out of her way. Lola had the cutest happy spin when she saw me; she was a voracious eater and had a wonderful appetite. Lola was so happy and full and life, JJ my black and white tuxedo cat (I adopted after Joshua passed away) and Lola were inseparable; they loved to sleep together and hang around. Lola remained small, she was 25-30lbs lighter than her sisters and brother but she really had spunk, sometimes I would find her literally standing over her parents when they were laying down as if to say “You are mine” it was adorable.

Lola was ours and we were hers, we were a unit, the day before Lola passed away, I was telling a friend of mine how much I was looking forward to spending my 60’s with Lola as she would be in her early teens, later that night I took Lola and her parents for a walk, when we returned from our walk she seemed tired, I was concerned but within a minute or two seemed totally back to normal, I held her beautiful face in my hands and told her how much I loved her, she rested her head on my chest, looking back it felt like a goodbye , a few minutes later she happily accepted her bedtime snack as she always did with gratitude and joy.

I found Lola the next morning, she had passed away with her parents at her side, I was shocked and saddened beyond belief, her veterinarian believed that she had some under lying congenital heart defect. Lola’s life was too short, I will always grieve for the years that I was hoping to have with her, things will never be the same without Lola in our lives, she was the baby of the family, her energy and joy were immeasurable, we all miss Lola so very much and always will, she will remain in our hearts, minds and sprits FOREVER…  On behalf of your parents Blake and Gina, your cat uncle and aunt JJ and Jazzmine... We love you, we miss you, you will always be a part of us and never forgotten…

This a tribute to our beloved angel Bodhi (September 15, 2007 – November 26, 2017), a great soul whose kindness, joy and loving ways were without peer.  Bodhi was a master teacher, healer, companion and beloved member of our family and the entire community. 

Bodhi was a gift on every level and he was also incredibly handsome, but he was far more than his good looks.

My son Avery and I surprised my husband on January 2, 2008 when we brought Bodhi home.  Bodhi was a prince from the moment he arrived, and other than his love of food – which in his youth meant raiding cabinets, dumping the garbage and counter surfing – he was a gentleman (he was also an Australian labradoodle).

To know Bodhi was to love him. He had a way of making everyone happy.  I believe he was on a mission to heal our family and heal the world.  He loved being included in everything! and always wanted to be with me– his mom. So for almost all of his 10 years with us he was my constant companion during the week, and on the weekends, he spent time with my husband going to play group, taking long walks and doing errands.

To know me was to know Bodhi. We were inseparable.  He did carpool with me when our sons Daniel and Avery were growing up, and it was quite a sight because Bodhi was huge!  It was just the way it was. Bodhi was always in my car no matter the occasion, no matter how many kids had to pile in.

Bodhi was well known in our community, in part because he was so BIG, but also because he was so warm and friendly.  He was considered to be Clifford the Big Red Dog by many or like a horse, a sheep, a bear or a character from Sesame Street or Star Wars.  We recently found out that he helped a child who was running away from school by being there at the exact right moment as a loving presence. The young boy hugged Bodhi, got a kiss from Bodhi and was then calm enough to return to school.  We had no idea that Bodhi was doing this service until the school security card shared the photo and the story.

There was no shortage of comments about wonderful Bodhisattva Greenberg.  Other than exclaiming how big he was, the next most common comment was that he looked human!  His eyes were so soulful and expressive, you couldn’t help thinking there was a human there. 

For my part, he was better than human, but then again, he was my Bodhisattva. My BODHI!

He and I were completely attuned to each other, and the relationship was one of pure ease and blessing. Not a day went by that I didn’t express gratitude for him. My greatest joy was taking long walks with him. We would wander together, often with him deciding the route, stopping at his dear friend Steven’s hair salon, even when I told him Steven wasn’t there, visiting his canine and human friend’s houses, going to the neighborhood stores where everyone knew him, passing by the school yard so children could pet him. He was the medicine everyone needed, and he loved giving.

In recent years, he was my companion (not officially trained) for visits to my mother’s Alzheimer’s unit and my father’s assisted living.  Everyone in both of these places loved Bodhi and looked forward to his visits, especially my dad.  Bodhi would enter his room and they would both smile. 

He loved to travel with us, and loved to hike.  This past summer he went with us to Vermont and Gloucester, MA. Oh how he loved to be with us, go to the beach, be in nature. Yet, he also loved going to Bloomingdales with me and any other store that would let him in.  He just wanted to be part of!

Bodhi never barked at other dogs, nor did he bark when people came here. He was above that. He was so comfortable in his own skin. He had a presence and a gentle way that made the world seem right.  He was always there with a kiss and a hug – the best hugs in the world.  Yet he never wanted for anything. His soul just wanted to give and give he did. 

My son Avery commented that we made Bodhi who he was with our love, and perhaps this is true. He came in as a wonderful puppy, but we allowed him to grow into a magnificent Bodhisattva which is indeed his full name which they say is like a Buddha who rolls up his sleeves.  The giving is so pure it defies words.

Bodhi was diagnosed with bone cancer on November 9 and he remained brave and dignified for the remaining days of his life. Knowing how social he is, I invited his human and dog friends to visit since he could no longer take his walks. We had dozens of visitors – both two and four-legged. Bodhi would get up, if he could, to welcome each of them. A gentleman and a giver to the very end.

To say we miss Bodhi is a supreme understatement. He will live in our hearts forever.

Mudshake came to our lives when I finally convinced my parents to get a dog. This was after several bouts of attempted burglary at our family home. I argued that a barking dog will deter anyone who would enter our property. A friend I know who had a dog giving birth soon had agreed to give me one of the puppies.  Oh! I can still remember the first time I saw her and I fell in love instantly. She was a mutt and it has become my favorite “breed” ever since. It was really ironic that when we took her home, we found out that she does not bark at all. It took months and we discovered she would only bark in response to a whistle. She did learn to bark on her own will soon but it does not matter anyhow since we couldn’t care less about the burglars by then. We just loved her even if she’ll wag her tail at them.

Life with Muddy, all 12 years of them, had been a most rewarding one. I never knew such tenderness exists inside of me, all poured out as we shower her with love and attention. And she returned every bit of that love back to us. The first years, with all its broken furniture, house training and stolen laundry was a beautiful chaos. Over the years, Muddy mellowed down but her sweetness stayed with her. By this time, we had four other dogs, but Muddy stands out in a way she seems to think she’s more human than canine. She would rather hang out, where the humans are and does not care about what the other dogs are up to. We all love our dogs equally, but Muddy will always have a special place in me, because it all started with her.

Saying goodbye to her was a bittersweet thing. She had been sick for a while, been in out of the hospital but seemed to have deteriorated quite suddenly. For a few weeks, she bounced back but then the meds seem to just stopped working. On those few weeks we thought she pulled through, it seemed that she gave it her all and made us happy before she said her final good bye. The family will always hurt at her passing, but her memory and the love she left in our hearts will always be a treasure to cherish. I miss her.

Simple Beauty

sun climbs the sky each day

shines

and sometimes hides away

adorned by clouds

or made to blink by planes

a simple beauty that remains

flowers peddles bright

below

grass blades surrounding fight

for open space

new heights they must obtain

a simple beauty that remains

birds begin their chime

harmony

and constant changing rhyme

branch to branch

then airborne wind or rain

a simple beauty that remains

shadows never stop

behind

from shape to shape they hop

not one spot

does any long sustain

a simple beauty that remains

with life

there comes light from love

but lurking near

is darkness that grounds the dove

and when it does there’s still much yet to gain

with simple beauty that remains

by Conrad Rios

In December of 2010, I was looking on Petfinder for a dog. I was ready to have my own dog living on my own. In my search those were things I needed since I had cats, birds and a ferret. I didn't want a puppy because I didn't have the time to train living on my own. In my search, I found a Great Dane/Aussie mix named Marley from a rescue. He was 7 years old at the time. I wasn't sure if I wanted to get a senior pooch because I didn't know how much time I'd have with him so I kept going back and forth with the idea.  His background story was that he was with a family for 7 years of his life, he was in agility classes and he had other male dogs living with him. One day, Marley got into a fight with one of their unneutered Rotts. His family decided to take him to a vet and euthanize him because of the fight. The vet had to quarantine him for 10 days because he wasn't up to date on his rabies. During that visit, the Dr. couldn't euthanize him because they saw how great of a dog he was so they called the rescue. He stayed at the vet for the time being until he was either fostered or adopted. After a couple weeks, I reached out to the rescue and asked to meet him. They came out with him, inspected my house and said everything looked good, that they saw no problems he couldn't be here. So the next weekend (the weekend before Christmas), I went to their vet's office and picked him up. Marley was so excited. We took a picture together and right when I looked at him and bent down a little and asked him if he was ready to go home, he jumped up at my face to lick me. The woman from the rescue said this was a sign and how perfect was that.

At first, Marley was a handful, for being 7 years old; he still had so much spunk to him! He decided to lift his leg everywhere to mark his territory which I thought was unusual for a dog that should be fixed. Come to find out later, he had a cancerous mass growing in his stomach which the vets had no idea what it was until they opened it. When he was neutered, his other testicle never dropped and the cancerous mass was growing around that. So now you can imagine how upset I was that this happened it should have never happened. Marley had more and more medical issues as the time went on, very odd things that my vet's office was surprised. I don't think they had a file as thick as his with any other pet. A few years ago, he had to have a double hernia surgery. That was rough. His back end was very swelled up from the surgery and it was painful for him. It was costly, but I didn't care. I wanted him better. Then he had a digit that had a growth on it and it would come back and go away. Finally I decided to have it taken off because it was too much of a hassle. Those are only a couple of the major things I had to deal with Marley. If there was anything I had to do for him either medically or his daily needs, it got met. Money was never an object. I always found a way to get him the care he needed. He was spoiled rotten on top of it!!

Anyway, Marley was a very protective dog. At first it was a little rough with the cats. He wanted no one around me, but him so at times he'd snap at the cats if they got too close. He eventually stopped that behavior, but still protective of me and his territory which didn't bother me. Marley was a 70 lb. lap dog, not as big as a Great Dane, but had the features of the Great Dane. He was smaller because of the Aussie in him. Besides being protective of me and his territory, Marley loved people. When you were outside of the house, he barked and barked, but as soon as you came in the house, he'd be all over you wanting attention on him. When I'd have people over, he had to sit right in between me and the other person. He was a big couch hog too. When we were home that's where he was all the time. When I wasn't home, he'd go with me. He loved car rides too! When he would play, he liked to lay on his back with his tennis ball in his mouth. He'd kill the squeakers eventually on the other toys and pull out the stuffing, but he had this one special big soft bone he loved to play with. Even though he took out the squeakers and the stuffing, he still liked to play with it. His next favorite place to be in the house was in my bed. He'd have to sleep so close to me in a ball. He had to be touching me in some way when he was sleeping. Then sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night with him sprawled out and his butt in my face! I think his most favorite thing besides relaxing at home with me is walking. We would go to the forest preserves and go for long walks. The longest walk we did in one day was 5 miles! He slept a long long time after that trip! We'd walk at least 3 times a week when the weather allowed us. The smile on his face when he'd look back at me was priceless. Marley would stop and wait for me to catch up and look at me with this smile of how happy he was to be out. As soon as I'd catch up, he'd turn back and just start power walking again. He'd stop again and look at me and then keep walking always smiling. He was the best walking buddy!

Earlier this year, he started having some more issues where he didn't want to eat much, but he'd bounce back. This final time, unfortunately he didn't. The early morning of May 2, 2017, when I let him out to go potty, I was going to stay home with him because I was going to call the vet because he wasn't acting right. That morning he collapsed and I had to take him to the ER vet. Long story short, he had a mass on his spleen rupture and the seizure he had prior was most likely from this too, it was cancer. People would ask me when I first got Marley as to why I adopted an older dog. I simply told them that they need love too and even though you don’t have them for their whole lives, it doesn’t matter. Marley and I had a very strong bond and of course I wish I had longer with him, but I’d never regret getting a senior pooch. He gave me so much love. In his memory for his cremation, I got 2 paw prints. One of which shows how unique he is, the paw where his digit was removed. Later, I will be spreading some of his ashes where we went walking. We had a usual area where we went walking. I think he would’ve liked that.

Oliver, my cream colored Shih Tzu, came into my life completely by surprise. We went to the neighborhood pet shop to buy food for my then teenage daughter’s ferrets and our Cockatiel. It was 2002, and I was already aware of the horrors of puppy mills. My husband HAD to go to the back of the shop to look at puppies and called me to come and look. I refused……after his urgency “you HAVE to come back here” I reluctantly went. There in the cage, lying still, face between his paws, no excitement or tail wag in site, was the most beautiful puppy.  A hand written sign next to the kennel had the birth date, he was already 4 months old, and his price had a red line through it. He was marked down like an old shirt. A few hacks came next……I said “go call the guy” So here came the guy with the stretched out ear holes and pierced eyebrow. “What’s wrong with that puppy”? I asked. ”Has he had vet care”?  “No” he said, “They’ll probably send him back, I think he’s sick”  “Send him back WHERE, WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO HIM”?  “You don’t want to know” he said. But I did know. I knew all about Amish puppy mill farmers in Pennsylvania and what they do to non-profitable merchandise. Against my rescuers commitment to “Adopt not Shop”, I took Oliver home. He was in the University of Penn vet hospital the next day. Lots of money and many prayers later, Oliver came home and our mutual love affair began….Oliver became my “soulmate” pup. He was the youngest of my 4 member pack at that time. We have lost the older 3 but I have adopted 3 other little unwanted misfit pups.

Oliver was special beyond words or description and I was not the only one who felt that way. My entire family is feeling his loss. My mother used to call him my shadow, as a young dog he was always where I was. I had to teach him “I’ll be back” because my absence didn’t thrill him. My husband said as a puppy he would cry when I left. He learned to feel secure and happy but always had one eye on me to make sure I wasn’t leaving without him, especially when visiting family. He was always so well behaved and sweet, he was welcomed everywhere. I am a nurse, and when I worked an overnight shift, Ollie would stand at my feet after I put my scrubs on and look up and down at me…then walk away and settle himself for the night. He knew where I was going and that I’d be back. He was found on a bench in my front window looking and waiting. But on the days off, I couldn’t get out the front door without him. He was the only one that I could teach more than sit and stay, and gave me a “high five” on request his entire life. He was also the only one that I could walk off leash….he had no desire to leave my side. Even walking down stairs, he would walk next to me and If I stopped, he stopped. Of course a lot of that subsided as he went into his senior years. But he slept on my bed with me every night. Oliver overcame several health issues throughout his life, including Pulmonary Hypertension which usually has a very poor prognosis. But with medication he did really well for a year. Ollie succumbed to cancer, and we are struggling not only with his loss but with the guilt, self-loathing, “what-ifs, whys, and if onlys” because he was diagnosed in late stages. We had no warning that he was sick, and it was found at a routine visit too late to treat. Ollie went into cardio shock, was severely anemic, and a treatment or cure was not to be. I Love you my Angel!

Kona Lee Kraus-Temple

Our beloved Kona Lee joined us on December 31, 2011.  We went to an adoption fair to see a dog on a website we were interested in and ended up bringing Kona Lee home instead.  We remember that she was laying on a blanket on the black top with a macramé blanket covering her.  She would look up on occasion to see what was going on but generally seemed calm with all the chaos going around.  They called her Precious and while she was very precious we kept thinking about the Lord of the Rings so we knew we were going to change her name.  Lori, my spouse, came up with the name Kona Lee since she was the color of coffee and her middle name because it was mine.  So, Kona Lee joined our pack of Maxie Yodo and Colton Benjamin along with our cats, Brindie Brat and Calvin Casey.  The best way to describe her attitude was “don’t worry, be happy.”  People would comment that her Hawaiian name matched her personality.   We made her signature color Pink. 

She enjoyed going to the dog park every Saturday, at times to find the mud to roll around in, going for rides to Starbucks to get a “Pupa Chino”, and hanging out in her dog pool.  She was my little shadow.  No matter where I went in the house, she would not be too far behind.  If she wanted to let you know she was near sometimes she would nudge your knee or elbow.  I really miss her presence and her wagging tail.  I would sing her a song which was,” I gotta be me, I gotta be free, who else would I be, but Kona, Kona Lee.” 

She had medical issues such as allergies and itchiness among a few other things.  Unfortunately, the last few months of her life were not the best when she was eventually diagnosed with Cushing’s Disease which may have also been Cirrhosis of the liver.  We changed her meds, ran tests, etc., but it kept getting worse and it was finally time to let her go.  She left us on April 25, 2017.   She is now free of itchiness, allergies and pain.  Run free, wag your tail and enjoy the mud puddles!  We will see you on the other side one day but know we love you and miss you so much our dear little sweet pea, Kona Lee.  

Michele Kraus & Lori Temple

Lacee was given to me at 12 weeks old- she was a very special “pick of the litter” so to speak.  She was the only girl along with her two brothers in the litter.  She was not sold due to her having a “Cherry Eye”.  I immediately fell in love with her, took her home, had her spayed and her eye repaired. She was a full bred tan Chihuahua with the perfect apple face and huge brown eyes. 

She was very over protective of me.  She was not your typical stereotyped Chihuahua.  She loved people and children especially.  She loved being cuddled and having her belly rubbed.  She was such a sweet, kind, and dainty little girl.  She was very sharp, with a masterful mind for mischievousness.

The highlight of her day was getting her “doggie biscuits”.  She brought so much joy to my life, my family, and my friends.  EVERYONE adored her.  Lacee died at 11 years old from Diabetes and heart failure.   We all love and miss her so much,  and know she’s now one of Gods’ special angel dogs.

R.I.P. my sweet Lacee-Girl (her nick name).

Remembering Sally Anne (February 2005 - February 2017)

I purchased Sally Anne along with her sister Sadie King in May 2005, they were 8 weeks old.

Sally Anne was a proper character with a scraggy rough haired appearance. 
She had her front teeth removed a few years ago due to an accident with a patio wall. Her missing teeth added to her character and her tongue often poked out.

She disliked going out in the rain or wearing her dog coat, noisy dustbin lorries, buses, cows "mooing" or visiting the vets.

Her favourite things were - going for at least 4 walks per day and barking at every dog, eating chicken and chopped pork at any opportunity, perching on the chair keeping guard of the garden, snoozing in the chair, visiting the allotment and going out in the car.

All this has now gone and our lives are a lot quieter.
Sally Anne recently passed away after a short illness.

Sal the last 12 years were a blast. Your crazy mad ways were great and I wouldn't have changed anything. I am blessed to have had you in my life.

Maya- Our beloved angel

It had been few days, when we had decided that we would buy a Golden Retriever, but due to some problems we could not bring the puppy to our home. It was the 6^th of November, when I had a fight with my hubby regarding bringing a puppy to our home. That particular day I lost my patience and tried frantically every pet shop for this particular breed. Luckily, one pet shop had a Golden Retriever pup. We were so happy and on 07^th of November, we went to pick her up (our little bundle of joy). She had beautiful eyes. The very 1^st moment I saw her in crate, she wagged her tail and I knew we had found her.

We named her Maya (illusion, magic). She was a 45 days old puppy. The very first day we brought her, we knew life would be so beautiful from now. First few days were bit frustrating for me (potty cleaning and all), and one fine day we had thought about returning her, as we were not able to manage because of office hours and all. The very next day, when we had made up our mind to return her, she suffered rectum prolapse and we rushed her to doctor. I remember when she got operated for 1^st time, she was in lot of pain, and that moment, we decided, she is our 1^st girl, and we would never give her away. After that, she started remaining sick, because of rectum prolapse, series of operations, medicines, and much more. We started taking lot of care of Maya. I remember it was so fun feeding her playing with her, she used to sleep on my lap , play with chew and balls, I used to brush her daily under the sun and she loved it. Suddenly, in the 1^st week of December, she started having blood in her urine and became anemic. We rushed her to hospital and our vet told us, that her case is quite critical. She got admitted, had blood transfusion and one major internal surgery, which she could not survive and left for heavenly abode on 10.12.2016. We buried her on 11.12.2016 with full respect and prayers. I remember the moment when the doctor handed me her dead body. (I was devastated and could not believe that I won’t be able to hold my bundle of joy any more).

Maya, wherever you are, please know that we love you a lot. You will be our 1^st child always. For the short stint she had on earth, i.e for 2 months, she brought lot of changes in our life. Lots of positive things happened. Our little bundle of joy, in spite being in lot of pain, never complained. She was brave, very intelligent, very mature at this small age and most of the time she understood our thoughts. Wish, we could save her, but in spite of our best efforts we could not. There is a big void, in our life, which I don’t how to fill up. We have some really good memories with her and I know she is at least relieved of her pain now. God bless her soul and give her all the love that she needs now.

Love and love- Nivedita and Abhishek

Dearest Hawk,

In the first six months of your goofy wire-haired dachshundness you taught me that you would do tricks ONLY for treats. I fought with you and tried to tinker with your spirit, only to learn that you were steady as Atlas. And none can shrug you. You told me you were going to use your eyes a lot because you loved talking. You also are the reason I spell dachshund right J. I got you in my home as a companion for BJ, your best friend, the eternal puppy labrador and both of you soon grew to define all the beauty and peace in my life. 

As time flew, I noticed your favorite things were centered on me. When I stepped out, you wanted to go no matter where I was headed to. I would say I am going here, there, and this and that, and that I cannot take you along. And your answer would always be, “take me”. This and that and can’t do. Yet, you are saying, “take me along.”. You loved the car rides and the open windows, and jumping onto my thighs, your little paws pressing onto them. When I lay on the ground, you would come and crawl right onto my stomach, not those crevices or nooks of the arms and legs for you. When I sat down to meditate, you would hop onto my lap. And I would always tell you, “Hawk I cannot meditate like this.”. But I guess it now feels you were the meditation. You loved to lick me smack on the lips, and sometimes I would say no. I am sorry for each of those times now. You let me brush your teeth only because you bargained your treats in the end. You held me in your kindest and gentlest and most powerful gaze when my world seemed dark and unsteady. You healed me in many ways and I think I will always feel your love around. Your love is the purpose I have been searching high and low for, so pure, so unconditional, so giving, and so spiritual.

You stayed spotlessly healthy and fit your whole nine years and in 36 hours, your heart said it was time. I can only imagine that your big, big, big heart has much more healing to give me, wherever you are. Stay happy, stay free, stay warm Hawkadoo, wherever you are. I can feel you in my heart and will carry this light forever. Thank you.

With so much love,

Mama

Juju The Best Dog Ever

Juju was an eight pound ball of fur with a BIG personality. God took him far to soon and now all I am left with is wonderful memories. He loved to play with squeak toys, chase cats, birds, and yes, even snakes. He also loved following me everywhere I went.

Juju had a vast understanding of human language and he always  knew what you wanted him to do. He knew what you wanted him to do and was always eager to please, except for take a bath them, he would run and hide.

Juju was sad when I was sad. He was happy when I was happy. He was a source of strength and a great companion. He was my special little friend. I will always love and miss him very much.

From a dog lover, EB

Odyssey with Tessa

Tessa’s predecessor, Mike, a black lab and pit bull mix, had been gone over two years. One day, over two years after Mike had died, my husband begged me to get another dog. He said he still missed Mike, but realized he “needed” a dog. Finally, at one shelter, just as we were about to go, the volunteer said to wait because they had just rescued a dog from death row at the Newark shelter. They called her Moon because they said she had a calm way about her. They brought her out and she immediately jumped up on the bench where my husband was sitting and leaned into him. He put his arm around her and the rest is history.

Tessa was a big girl, 75 pounds, about 2-3 years old at the time we got her, a beautiful brindle Pit Bull with eyes that could melt ice. She was strong and wasn’t fond of other dogs or maybe she just had a bad experience at some time. I never knew which. We brought her home and I was resistant to opening my heart to her. I wanted to be loyal to Mike. I told her she had some big paws to fill.

My husband died a little over two years ago. The year he was ill, she’d sit by him for hours, not moving, just sitting by him. When he was in intensive care, I asked the staff to let me bring her to see him. She stood very still by his bed. I lifted the blanket so she could sniff his foot, then his hand. She stood by silently and took it all in, not squirming, not crying.

After my husband died, Tessa and I began our journey together. We cemented our bond with each other over the 27 months he was gone. I’ve always loved dogs and to have one for me is a commitment to a lifetime of care in every way. So I watched all the Cesar Millan videos to see if I could learn something that would help us, something that would help her.

Many times people would cross the street when they saw us coming; Tessa, a very large rather intimidating looking dog but she was so good. Through all the sorrow and upheaval in my life I came to know her, appreciate her and love her more deeply than I thought possible seven years ago.

She was the most undemanding, unusual dog I’ve ever had the privilege to have in my life. She would eat anything that was put in front of her. When I was cutting up vegetables she come running into the kitchen so she could have some. She loved lettuce and kale and broccoli. Truly. She was the only dog I’ve had that always had to have a stuffed toy in her mouth when she walked around the house. You’d think a child lived in the house, her toys were on the floor in every room.  She never barked at anyone who came to the door. She would stand silently there. Her presence was enough of a statement to anyone. Her presence, too, was that of a calm strength.

In the last six months of her life, she developed a new habit, one that endeared her to me more than ever before. Every night around 10 PM she would come into the TV room and look at me. That meant “Let me out.” I did. She’d go out for a few minutes and I’d let her back in. I would settle back to watch TV. Then she would come in and sit by me. Just sit, not wanting anything that I could see. So I would put my arms around her, kiss her on her strong jaw, tell her I loved her and that now she could go to bed. And she did. She’d climb on the couch and I would cover her with her blanket. She looked so peaceful, so content, like a sleeping child after a happy day. I will always remember that sweet and gentle memory.

Tessa grew into my heart slowly over the years, through my some of my most difficult days, coping with the loss of my husband and then my own illness. She was there. I thought wrongly, after Mike died, that I could never love another dog as much as I loved him. I was wrong. And it’s not about loving as much as, it’s about loving as deeply as, but in a different way. Tessa expanded my heart. I grew to love her so much that now it’s very difficult to live without her at times. Dogs come into our lives at different places in our own journey. We are different people when they come in and we are better people when they leave. I believe all my dogs taught me things I needed to learn at the moments of time we shared our lives. When they left, they took, I willingly gave, a piece of my heart with them and they left a piece of theirs with me.

I hope my girl knows I loved her and will forever. She was a grace in my life, a steadfast, gentle and calm creature whom I believe was wise beyond what I knew of her. A friend who knew Tessa and was with us when she died always called her a “mother dog.” I think she was.   

For Rudy

You were my best friend and protector. We understood each other with a look. You cared for our family with steadfast devotion, and loved us unconditionally.

You were the best part of my day and gave me a thousand reasons to smile. I talked and sang to you and you responded with smiling eyes, a wagging tail and a bounce in your step as your tiny feet followed me around the house. We were inseparable. 

Holding you as you took your last breath was the saddest moment of my life. Not one minute has passed that I haven't thought of you. I am overcome with sadness throughout the day and feel your loss as a constant ache in my heart. 

I know that if there is any possible way, you are with me and watching over our family. Your love and dedication to us was without question. 

We will never be whole without you; you made our family complete. 

We love you and miss you beyond words. Someday we will be together again and our hearts will be full. I wish you comfort and peace, my faithful friend. 

Riding in “your” Kubota, hiking in the mountains with mom.

Searching for a lost subject, chasing balls, watching TV and playing with “hog”.

The brightness in your eyes, the wag of your little nub.

That lip raised smile, let everyone know you were sending them love.

 Our sweet baby girl we had a bond so strong and you were taken way too young.

No other will ever take your place, for you will forever be missed and forever be loved

 Our hope is now that you have arrived on the other side.

You are training to be the K9 cop you so desired.

 Getting peanut butter from daddy, running crazy through the field and jumping like your legs had springs.

Diving in the pool after “ducky”, cuddling with mommy and belly rubs from dad, they were just a few of your favorite things.

 With an intelligence unlike any other, you knew exactly what we asked.

You did your best to please, making people happy was your number one task.

I adopted Harley in 2002. He came from West Virginia shelter and rescued by an organization in NJ. He lived until 9/3/16 when Lymphoma took over his little body. He would have turned 14 on 9/20/16. He was the most lovable, grumpiest, stubborn beagle ever and I would never change that for the world.

He loved it when he saw me take his leash out. He knew he was going somewhere. He loved car rides, going to parks, the beach and daily walks. Anywhere as long as he was outside. He loved chasing squirrels and barking at the garbage truck. He was my shadow. Following me every where. He knew when I was upset and would just lay there with me, like he understood and was trying to comfort me. Every day I miss having my little four legged shadow following me around the house. 

Both myself and my other dog, GoGo miss him so much. Not a day goes by that I don't think about him and would do anything to have him back again. I love you Harley and miss you dearly. "You were my favorite hello and my hardest goodbye".

My dear Indi,

I knew you when you were just 4 weeks old. I chose you from a litter of roly-poly puppies - to me you had the cheekiest face and the boldest character as you waddled straight up to me and licked my face. I felt we had chosen each other, we such a bond from the start. I named you for the colour indigo after a painting I’d once done of another black Labrador. A shiny black dog on a green field under a sunny sky has subtle purple-blue highlights in its fur. So that’s how you got your name: Indigo, Indi for short and you grew from that cheeky puppy into a wonderful dog.

You were born into a loving home; your Mum was the sweetest dog I’d ever met, your Aunt such a fun character and we knew that your Dad was a well known prize-winning working dog. I was so proud when at 9 weeks old we brought you back to our loving home. You gave back love, affection, protection and friendship and you were such a lot of fun to be with! You were so responsive to training I was told you should have been a guide dog or a helping dog (like your brother) or been in the movies – you were once even offered a role - but I knew you would be happiest at home with us, just ‘being a dog’, just being yourself.

A couple of weeks ago, aged just over seven years old, you died. The day before, I was listening to the car radio as we drove along sunlit lanes on the way to walk in our woods. I heard the Simon and Garfunkel song, Sound of Silence with its line: ‘Silence, as a cancer, grows...’ Like that song, your illness was truly silent; creeping up on us totally undetected until it caused you to collapse. The vet who operated on you called your cancer a ‘silent killer’ and we are still reeling from the shock of losing you so fast. Our only consolation is that you did not suffer for long.

When I announced your death on Facebook there was an outpouring of grief from your friends and family. Everyone it seemed had something lovely to say about you. In your short lifetime you helped children overcome their fear of dogs with your calm nature. You helped ‘train’ unstable, fearful dogs and you were the best friend to a shy, little cat. You were a rock to our young son when he lost his Granny just as you were a sweet, patient friend to our one-year-old daughter, laying your head on her tiny lap as she grabbed at you with sticky hands. You were my husband’s running buddy and like the typical Lab you were - the most appreciative of his roast dinners and barbeques!

But mostly, you were my dog - my shadow and I adored you. You were my comfort. We went through some tough times together you and I, just as we shared the joyful times. My best memories are walking through shady woods or along windswept headlands and sunny beaches with you. Recently I felt so bad when you had to wait time and again at the front door, ready for your walk while I messed about endlessly with pushchairs and baby bags. You came to know the command: ‘Wait girl!’ so well.

So now I ask you, my Indi to wait again. If there is a heaven, then you and all the other dear departed dogs are in it – wait for me there and one day we will walk together again. And in the meantime on sunny days I will look for you in every indigo hue which graces my world.

LF 9 August 2016

We faced many problems finding a pup because at that time there was not any small pup available in our area, but we were lucky and finally got our lovely jerry on 24 April 2016. When we adopted Jerry, at that time she was just 26 days old and looked like a little angel.

She was just not a pet for us,she was like a family member, a companion, a little friend of mine. Her best quality was her lovely and lively nature. She always enjoyed her life. Whenever we arrived at home after work she always greeted us with her loving smiles and her licking kisses. She always liked to sit in my lap for hours. Her favourite work was eating sweets and playing with us.  She understood our feelings more than humans understand. She always followed me like shadow. She was a real fighter and a brave heart. She loved singing of birds.

The saddest day of our life come when she infected by Parvovirus on 16 July 2016. Even during her last few days she provided us her all love and affection. After a hard and 4 day battle with the cruel and sadistic parvovirus she left us and the whole world on the evening of 19 July 2016 around 8 PM. The hardest work of my life was to say goodbye to my lovely little Jerry whom I always loved more than me. She was my one and only best friend and a little sister. She was that stormy wave of love which touched us, drenched us and passed through us. You will always remain in our hearts and we will remember you til our death. See you at Rainbow bridge my little friend.

RIP JERRY)

 We called her sunshine because she was always happy, always had her tail up. We got Galadriel when she was just a puppy. Around 8 or 10 weeks old. I suppose you could say she was your typical puppy, full of playful energy. But then she grew up, matured. It was at that point when we knew we had someone special. Sure she was the typical yappy chihuahua. But she never bit. And once you got in the house and sat down she was on your lap. She loved everyone. She was also very motherly. She knew when someone wasn't feeling well. And when she sensed that she would not leave your side for anything. Also very intelligent. She would perk up her ears when anyone spoke to her. We called  them satellite dishes because they would always turn towards whoever was speaking even if she didn't look at them. We miss her every day, the way she loved to lay on our laps, the way she greeted us at the door every time we came home (even if we were only gone a few minutes), the way she gave hugs..she would lay on your chest and lay her head against you, the way she would walk on her hind legs and spin around to get a treat. We will always miss you.

We adopted Duke, along with his brother, Toto, from the Monmouth County SPCA in December of 2011.  He and his brother came as a team.  We were thrilled to have these two new additions to our family in time for the holidays.  They were already middle-aged dogs.

Duke won my heart from the start.  He wasn’t particularly fond of other dogs, but he loved people.  Whenever I took him for a walk, he would always go up to our neighbors so he could say “hello” to them.  The neighborhood kids loved petting him, and he loved being petted.

What was most special about Duke was what he taught me, particularly unconditional love, patience, and selflessness.  My love for him also inspired me to become much more involved in advocating for all animals.  One of the things I miss most is the way he waited for me at the top of the stairs, wagging his tail, when I came home from work.  Unfortunately, he had mitral valve problems which led to congestive heart failure.  I miss him every day, and will love him forever.