Author: Anita Merrell, J & D Altizer

Gypsy – you are a treasure that can never be replaced. We found you, or you found us, depending on how you look at things, on a summer afternoon in 2003 at work right by the front doors. We will never know where you came from. You were in the company of an older female dog, rather feral in nature but not aggressive. I think you had been moving around for a while because you both must have seen better days. She looked like she had been living a rough life and we never knew if you were her puppy or not, but she had obviously been taking care of you. We bought some dog food and got some water and she ate every bite, not sparing a bite for you. She looked like she had a healed injury because one shoulder was obviously higher than the other; we guessed she might have been hit by a car and never got treated, so she healed crooked, but it didn’t appear to slow her down.

You poor puppy, were barking at her while she ate and after she finished, we fed you by hand so you could get a little nourishment. We were able to get close enough to find you had two collars, both so tight it’s a wonder you didn’t choke while you ate. You were wearing choker and I had to find some assistance and luckily someone came out with a pair of bolt cutters to cut it off; we couldn’t get it over your head. And you had a flea collar on that was so tight we cut that off too. A few days more and it would have been into your skin. Neither of you had tags. What a surprise…

I called your Daddy and he came out; we got you both into our van with the promise of more food and took you to our vet. He guessed you to be about four months old; but the older girl you were running with didn’t want to come out of the van and she had to have a technician get a long lead to get her out. She was being defensive now that people were around her and paying attention to her. You could tell she wasn’t acclimated to that. So, unfortunately, your companion was put to sleep. We don’t know if she was in any pain, but the vet could tell by looking at her lop sided body that something traumatic had happened to her. I hope to this day we did her a kindness.

After the vet gave you a once over and determined you to be healthy enough to be around our babies, we brought you home to Nikki and Chief and Tiki, the bird. Chief was still pretty much a puppy himself then and Nikki was becoming a little grump at 12 years old. Chief’s expression was priceless at your first meeting. He had a playmate! Tiki didn’t play with the puppies and you looked at him like he might taste like chicken, so we didn’t let you play with him either. But you looked so sad that first night, like you were missing your former doggie friend. That’s why we often wondered if she had been your mother. Because you had been wandering, I decided to call you Gypsy.

You grew considerably bigger than your former companion; we guessed you were a shepherd of some kind mixed in with Rottweiler. Goodness, I can hear people now gasping…only the ignorant ones. You were a wonderful puppy, but as a puppy, you did those puppyish things and one thing no one had done before – you chewed up my books! My hardback books on the bookshelf that I had had for years were a magnet for your little teeth. I managed to salvage some of them, but several I had to throw the book covers away. I lost a brand new paperback and had to buy a new copy. We refer to those days as your attempts to better educate yourself. Eventually, you lost your taste for the written word. We tried to encourage you to eat healthy treats and chews, but living on the street must have made you feel like you had to inhale everything you could get in your mouth and there were several times I was afraid you’d choke, so chewy treats were not on your menu.

You grew into a beautiful girl with a thick double coat and the sweetest temper. One time I heard you whining and prancing back and forth between me and your food dish. Nikki was eating out of your dish, and rather than growl at him or get aggressive, you were trying to call my attention to it. About two years after you joined the family, we lost our little Nikki and it was you and Chief. You two went everywhere together; you slept on the same bed together, including ours. It got crowded at times since neither of you were compact sizes. We did have to start watching your weight since you enjoyed eating everything.

A couple of months after Nikki crossed Rainbow Bridge, we got a call from our veterinarian’s technician. We were told we could get another Pekingese, a little girl. We were intrigued and went to the see her. Sabrina had been surrendered by a college student who didn’t really have time for her and the resident cats were bullying her. She seemed like a sweet little girl so we decided to adopt her. We took you and Chief to the vet to meet her on neutral ground and the tech told us you were the dominant dog. Hmmmm….that was an interesting thought. We went along with their suggestions and introduced you and you got along fine. Once at home we went through the introductory stages again. Sabrina was about a year old and had outgrown a lot of puppy-isms; she was even paper trained.

Through the years, it was a joyful thing to watch you guys play together. We had another trio. You brought us a lot of happiness and you were great with Chief and Sabrina. We introduced you to your grandmother and she was tickled to have another furry grandchild. She often slipped you things to eat that you really didn’t need.

2010 brought a lot of changes to the family. Daddy and I retired and we all moved to Texas in September, along with your grandmother and her dog, Samantha. Samantha had once lived with us, but developed issues we did not know how to handle, so she went live with your grandmother. It was the best thing that happened for both of them.

The drive was a long one, probably harder on Samantha who was about 14 years old at the time. She handled it pretty well. And having you all under one roof turned out to be fine. Her age had mellowed her out and there were no issues; or perhaps having Chief gave her a sense of security and she did not have to be the “alpha” dog. By that time you were about seven years old and you mothered everything and everybody. If someone was sick you stayed near; if someone went to the vet, you checked them out thoroughly when they got back. If someone got yelled at, you came to see what it was about and offer comfort to the one being yelled at (usually Daddy did the yelling). You always had to make sure everyone was okay, and Samantha was no exception. Sadly, Samantha crossed the Rainbow Bridge the following January.

We began living as Texans in earnest and we all went job hunting. For me, retirement was not what I expected, but hindsight is always 20/20. We never found a vet as good as the one we had in Florida. We ultimately went to four different vets; one was an hour long drive, but she was the only one who could do a VOM, a veterinary/ orthopedic treatment to help with a myriad of problems ranging from arthritis to recovering from illness or surgery. One was about 20+ miles away and was like an inexpensive clinic. One was six miles away and had a sister clinic. They actually had laser treatments but the one time I had them do it for you, I could smell burnt hair. Then we went on the hour long drive so they could laser you. You were starting to have a little trouble walking about them, arthritis in the joints and such. You had two breeds working against you then; the shepherd and our former Florida vet advised Rottweiler’s are known to have back issues. Four vets could not take the place of one…

The year 2012 was a bad one; Daddy found out he had Stage 4 throat cancer, the severity which he kept from me. He told me he had cancer and that it was curable, a fact which at that time had me relieved. Shortly before he began treatment, we added another family member. Spock (Daddy named him for Mr. Spock on Star Trek) was a street puppy like you. I had stopped on the road because I saw a big shaggy dog dragging a rope/chain/leash and I was afraid he would get hung up on something or get hit by a car. I stopped and tried to entice him to me, but he proceeded across the road towards a group of mobile homes. Several dogs, all sizes, were playing together and Spock started to follow me. I told him to go back home and one of the locals sitting outside said he did not belong there. The dog I had stopped for was long gone, probably sitting at home, but Spock continued to follow me. Long story short, Spock became an additional member of the family and a great companion to young Sabrina. You and Chief were becoming the senior citizens, although Spock ’s exuberance energized both of you and brought out the playfulness. He was our bright spot that year.

Daddy’s treatment was pretty brutal, but he got through it. While he was recuperating from treatment, you started drinking water excessively and naturally wanted to go outside much more frequently. My first thought was that you were diabetic. Imagine my surprise when I found you had Cushing’s disease, an adrenal condition for which there was no cure, but could be maintained. You were on a very expensive medication (thank goodness for pet insurance – except the cap ran out after about six months); you were on supplements because the meds could be hard on your liver. It calmed you down and we settled into a new regime of medical care.

It was also a time your grandmother had to have hernia surgery. Things just never seemed to ease up in 2012.

2013 was not a good year for any of us. However, Daddy’s niece unexpectedly added to their little family, a baby girl; it was the one bright spot in 2013. Unfortunately, while Daddy and I finally found part time jobs, our human family members were not faring well. Daddy lost his mama in April and we turned to you and your furry siblings for comfort. You, especially, were always sensitive and knew we were grieving. And then, more heartache, for you as well. Chief, a very special dog in his own right, struggled for a couple of months with his mobility and could no longer use his legs. He crossed Rainbow Bridge on September 25th. I don’t think you ever looked sadder and we know you were grieving. You had mothered and comforted for years, and now it was our turn to comfort you as well as grieve with you. Almost two weeks to the day, our brother-in-law fell to a heart attack and that’s when I knew it was time to cut losses and come home. Daddy’s sister moved closer to town and all our reasons for being there sort of went away. I was more than ready to come home.

2014 was a bittersweet year. Daddy’s daddy passed away and our family seemed to be shrinking. In October we came back to Florida. It was a long drive but you handled it well and you and Sabrina recognized your old home. Your house and yard wasn’t as big, but I don’t think you cared about such things. And one of the first things I did was get you back in touch with the greatest vet. They knew how do to VOMs and how to do laser treatments properly without burning your fur. You thrived with their care, but you too were slowing down. Spock and Sabrina were chasing circles around each other as always, but you were content to watch. Spock occasionally got fresh with you, but you let him know to knock it off. And Sabrina became rather a bully to you, grabbing you by your long neck fur and tugging. I never once saw you raise a lip or utter a growl. You were the most patient dog, a trait you shared with Sunshine.

In six months I was working again and it felt good to be back in the work place. I was starting to feel more secure again. You were doing well and we kept tabs on your worsening arthritic symptoms and the Cushing’s. 2015 and 2016 came and went with little drama; that was a reward in itself after years of angst and heartache. You continued to mother Sabrina and Spock, even when Sabrina started getting feisty with you. Thank goodness for all that fur. You were also starting to lose weight which at first was not alarming, but you lost continuously. Then you did one thing that surprised the heck out of all of us. Ducks were now living in our neighborhood, quacking, nesting, flying and just being ducky. Spock loved barking at them and running along the fence line. One day I heard some extra commotion in the backyard and I went out to investigate. I was totally blown away by the fact you and Spock were chasing not only grown ducks, but the ducklings. You had one in your mouth and I was fervently hoping you didn’t think it was a squeaky toy. I did get you to drop it, but it was already gone. I felt very bad for the duck family, but thought it was a case of mistaken identity. Imagine my shock when I found someone had regurgitated and there was a little bird, I’m assuming a duckling. One day in the yard I saw some of the ducks and you had come outside but hadn’t noticed them yet. When you did, I saw the hunter in you and you began to stalk them in a very focused manner. I had to get in front of you to get your attention diverted and to discourage you from your duck hunting. You very readily went back in the house without any problem, but from them on we always made sure the yard was duck free. I don’t know how it happened, but one afternoon a duck got in the house and you were after it. I was not home but Daddy told me all about how the feathers were flying. The duck was rapidly escorted outside. Daddy tried to compensate your cravings by getting you duck flavored treats; I was not terribly amused.

By 2017 you were causing us concern with the weight loss and the increased pacing at night. We checked your Cushing’s condition and it was under control. We learned you had a urinary tract infection which we treated successfully. But you were getting weaker and continued to lose weight. We increased your food intake and you continued to lose weight. We added canned food to your diet and you continued to lose weight. Your weakness made you tired and walking became more of a problem. Our vet said it was more about your back than your hips, but you had lost all your muscle mass. My once robust, bouncy girl was becoming skin and bones, and there didn’t seem to be anything we could do about it. Your blood work came back with good results, even your x-rays didn’t show any abnormalities other than the spondylosis which you have had for some years. We tried frequent VOMs, but they weren’t helping as much as we had hoped.

Friday, May 4th, 2017, we tried another VOM and Saturday you were walking on your own, going in and out the doggie door without help. You decided to lie on your doggie bed outside and went to sleep and we figured the fresh air would be good for you, so we let you sleep. You slept for hours and hours. When it started to get dark, we woke you up and you couldn’t stand. I attributed this to lying in place for so long, but you weren’t getting any better. We helped you inside and I fed you a good dinner. You never lost your appetite, but we could tell the motions you went through just to eat were tiring. After you ate we helped you outside for one more break and then helped you inside and it was then we thought we could not put you through more of this. Every movement exhausted you and it hurt to watch you try to drag yourself across the floor. You would do it, too. The spirit was there, but your poor body was just wearing out. I called your grandma and told her about our decision and she wanted to be there with you as well. Saturday night you slept very soundly, well into Sunday afternoon. I let you sleep. Then I got your dinner ready and you ate almost every bite. It was sleepy time again and you just dropped off and slept until Monday afternoon. Your grandma came over and I fed you one more time, a bowl of dry food and your favorite canned food, salmon and rice. You ate every bite and chomped down some ice cubes. Even though you still enjoyed eating, the effort exhausted you. Then I let you drink some water; I didn’t want you guzzling water after being asleep for so long. Not long after, you tried to get up and I helped you outside where we were both exhausted and you flopped to the ground. You did manage to do your business and I got you back in the house. It wasn’t long after you went back to sleep. It was breaking my heart to wake you up for one more car ride, one more visit with the vet.

It took a little doing, but we got you up and into the car. Grandma sat in the backseat with you to make sure you didn’t roll off. You had almost no muscle control at all. Daddy was able to get off work and he met us at the vet.

My beautiful girl, you were surrounded with love; I hope you understood. I think you would have continued trying until you had absolutely nothing left, but you deserved better and I hope we were able to give that you. You quietly stopped breathing and we knew you were on your way to a better place.

Gypsy, you are so loved and so missed. You have taken a big piece of our hearts, especially mine, but you have left a piece of yourself with me as well. You will always have a place in my heart, as well as Daddy’s and grandma’s. You have lots of friends to play and run with. Go find Chief and give him kisses for us. We love you baby girl.

Midnight was a sweetheart. He was so laid back and got along with everyone, two legged or four legged. Midnight belonged to a former co-worker who was relocating to south Florida and unbeknownst to her until it was too late, she could not take him. Midnight went to live with her daughter who was already overwhelmed with other issues. They were talking about taking him to the pound and as he was already 13 years old, I did not think that would end well. I offered to help find a home for him, and after keeping him with us for a couple of days, hubby said “we’ll keep him”.

Midnight loved to follow us throughout the house when we were home, so we dubbed him “Shadow”. He loved to bark at the ducks. He loved to bark at just about anything, but after a few days, he figured out what belonged in the area and what didn’t. His favorite toy was a “banana”. It had a plastic bottle inside of it and he loved the noises it made when he picked it up and threw it around. We took a few trips to the dog park where he was able to make some new friends and get some exercise. For a 13 year old dog, he got around remarkably well.

We never discouraged his company on the couch, but he never got on the bed or the furniture…unless we weren’t home. When we walked through the door he would look up and immediately get on the floor. He got bullied by Sabrina quite a bit, but he had friends in Spock and Gypsy. Needless to say, we had a full house, but we wouldn’t have had it any other way. Midnight was a joy and I stayed in touch with his first mom to keep her updated on his shenanigans.

Midnight starting having some tummy issues and we learned he had pancreatitis. We would seem to get a handle on it, but when we stopped the meds, it seemed to come back. If Midnight did not want to eat, he was not feeling good. After a few rounds of this, we had an ultrasound done and found a spot on his liver. At the time, we did not think it would be an issue, but within a couple of months, a follow up ultrasound showed that spot had grown very large very quickly. Because of his blood work and his increased lethargy and lack of appetite, we suspected he had liver cancer.

Sweet Midnight had ears like velvet, the softest ears of any dog I’ve ever petted. Midnight, I know you were a joy to your first family and I wish we could have had you longer. On December 8th, 2017, I petted his ears, kissed him and told him he was loved very much and he slipped quietly into that good night.

The sweetest boy that ever lived – Spock, my sweetest boy. I remember the day you found me. It was February 10, 2012. We were all living in Texas and I had stopped on the road because I saw another dog running around loose with a chain or leash dragging behind. When I stopped this dog had cantered off to what I hoped was home, and there you were playing with half a dozen other dogs, some bigger and some smaller. I went back to my car and you started following me. I told you to go back home, but the people living in the mobile homes around there hollered that you did not belong there. You were so skinny, but so friendly. I took you home and you spent the night. Thinking that we could not care for four dogs, the next day I took you to a no-kill shelter, but I knew you were sick because your nose was running and you were coughing. You actually spent the night with Daddy in his “man cave” because we did not know if you had something that our other babies could catch. I called that shelter everyday asking if you were ok and finally they said if I wanted you to come back and pick you up. I could not get there fast enough. We could not get you out of our minds. I think you were even skinnier when I picked you up and I don’t think they did a thing to treat you. You weren’t even wearing the collar I had bought for you, but they did provide another. Needless to say, you got another new collar.

I felt so sorry for you. I had never seen a dog your size reverse sneeze so much and you would do it until you coughed and then you coughed until you were sick. I took you to the emergency vet and they did squat. I took you to our regular vet and they suggested putting you down, even though they pegged you at being about a year old. I took you to another vet and she started treating you with steroids. We tried to minimize their use and I was able to get cough syrup for you. You would not take it off the spoon, but when I mixed it in your dog food turning it all a gooey pink, you slurped it all up.

We used to say you thought you were a cat because you jumped up on the kitchen counter. You were agile enough that you did not knock a thing over. Of course, this also got you half of a sugar free apple pie from Cracker Barrel. Things of that nature we kept on the top of the fridge from then on. You could not get that high, thank goodness. But we were astounded by your agility. You looked like you could fly when you ran through the yard.

Chief was not crazy about you the first time he saw you, which happened to be outside and you were on the other side of the fence. All he saw was a strange dog and he went into protective mode. When I brought you home, we put up the doggie crate and had you wait as I brought out your new siblings. Sabrina came first and you hit it off. Gypsy was next and she was so laid back she would have gotten along with anyone. Then I crated you again and had Chief come out. He looked at you in the crate and never growled at you again. I brought you in the house and that was good enough for him. You and Sabrina got to be the absolute best of friends and chased each other all over the place. She would jump up on you and nibble your ears and you would stick your nose under her and flip her. It was such a joy to watch you play.

Not long after you came to us, Daddy was diagnosed with stage four throat cancer. His treatment was grueling and you were there to cuddle with him. You would spoon him in the bed and it was so cute to watch you two sleep together. Luckily, Daddy recovered and is cancer free today. Over the years you had an endearing habit of “spooning” daddy, usually with your tail end facing him. There were some really aromatic nights. You were a good cuddler.

One day I was looking for you in the yard and could not see you. I know how you liked chasing squirrels and whatever was moving in the yard. I found you in the tree! You were not in just a low-lying branch, oh no, you were up at least fifteen feet! Daddy went to get a ladder but when he got back, you had already made it down. We discouraged any tree climbing after that.

About a year after you came to us, our family dwindled. We lost human family and Chief crossed Rainbow Bridge. Gypsy grieved and I think it took her awhile to recover. We grieved over all our losses. Your funny little face giving us kisses helped and you soothed our broken hearts. You were always there for us.

About a year after that, we moved back home to Florida. You adjusted nicely and had no problems with a smaller yard and a smaller house. I introduced you to our long time vet here and you were a hit with him and all his staff. He actually found a regimen that helped with your chronic coughing. It seemed like it never really went away. It was like an asthmatic condition and I could sympathize since I suffer from asthma as well. You didn’t need cough medicine anymore. You always jumped around for your food but you sat like a gentleman until we said “ok” and then you dove in.

Over the next few years, you saw Gypsy cross Rainbow Bridge and we did a couple of rescues for older dogs. Midnight only stayed with us a little over a year, but you were great with him. Hannah was with us just a little over two years and she was a little more standoffish, but you were a gentleman with her as well. Sabrina was getting older and while she still played with you, she could not roughhouse as much. She let you know, and you understood. You always went with the flow.

October 2019 we found out you had a thyroid condition and naturally, we got you what you medication. It seemed in January you started coughing a little more and the reverse sneezing started up again. Neither of these conditions had bothered you for nearly 6 years. We did a little tweaking of medications and you would be fine for a few weeks. But, your body seemed to adapt to whatever changes we made and gradually the symptoms came back. We had no idea what was triggering these spells.

Spock, our sweet, sensitive and gentle loving dog. Three ER visits, several vet visits and a recommendation to see a specialist were all conducted. We only wanted to help you. I pray that you did not feel we were abandoning you at the hospital. You had never spent a night away from us. All indications were that you would undergo tests and come home with us. Even the vet who treated you at the hospital could not give an explanation why everything went so terribly wrong. Please Spock, we did not abandon you. We only wanted to make you well and were doing what we thought best at the time. I’m so sorry we were not there, especially when I think that was when you needed us the most. My heart hurts because I feel we let you down. There is not a day that goes by that I do not shed a tear for you.

To honor you and everything you were, we are looking to adopt another dog that needs a home. I hope your spirit visits to calm her down and let her know we will do our utmost to see she is never in pain or ever gets hurt again.

I cannot describe how much you have meant to us. Everyone loved you. Your untimely passing has left a hole so big in our hearts. I see your sweet face in so many pictures and I try very hard to think of all the fun you had with us through all the good years. You have several other Altizer pups on the bridge to play with, and you can climb all the trees you want. Run, sweet boy. Till we see you again…forever in our hearts.

September 28, 2006 – August 8, 2020.
Sweet Hannah, you were truly something. I know Heidi missed you terribly, but you could not accompany her to England, so you got to live with us and you had a new little brother and “little” sister, although she was older. It must have been quite an adjustment for you and it did take a while, but you adapted. You certainly loved lizard hunting on our back porch and there are at least two black racers that don’t come into our yard anymore. You did like to hunt.

Not long after we brought you home, we discovered a lump on your hind leg and discovered you had a mast cell tumor. This was removed but your recovery was something else. You did not like that cone at all. In fact, you were an expert at removing it. You recovered well from surgery, but we were unsure about getting everything. Then, early this year you were diagnosed with stage 2 kidney failure. You were still spry and doing your thing so medication and a change in diet certainly helped. I wanted you as happy and as comfortable as you could be.

Ultimately, you learned to be playful but you did like your own space. I think you established a rapport with Spock and Sabrina so everyone knew where to be (or not)…it must have been quite an adjustment. Now that you have crossed Rainbow Bridge, I’m sure you’re racing after squirrels and lizards to your doggie heart’s content. You can run now, big beautiful girl, run, run, run! We miss you!

You are so loved and you touched us in ways that we will never be the same without you. I’ll never forget – you were our “planned” puppy and our experience with an actual professional breeder was new for us. They chose you for us based on our lifestyle and your personality. You were the most independent of your miracle litter (10 puppies by artificial insemination) and also tested as the smartest. In my opinion, you were the most beautiful puppy. And you came at a very difficult time for me as I had lost my Daddy just a few days before we came to get you. You were a great comfort to me.

Your independent nature made you appear sort of aloof, and you preferred to meet people at your pace. Your little life had a rough start when we learned about your affliction with your legs. We were so disheartened when we notified the breeder and she said she would take you back; we were very much attached to you from the moment we saw you, and although it was serious, your condition was fixable. What a brave, brave pup. Surgery involved cutting a piece of bone from both front legs and placing a steel rod between the bones, hoping new bone would then grow around. It worked, but you would forever have crooked legs and feet sticking out at angles. By the time we found out about all this your poor little leg bones were actually starting to crack. You probably had pain for most of your young life and just thought that was the way it was supposed to be. I hope we changed all that for you.

When you were about a year old Gypsy came into our lives as a stray puppy. You had a playmate closer in age to you now and you could leave grumpy little Nikki alone. You and Gypsy very seldom left each other’s side.

You certainly had a thing about birds. Every time birds (especially ducks) would fly over the house you’d run from one end of the yard to the other barking
and looking up at them.

Chief, you got along with everybody. You developed a special bond with your grandma because she babysat you all the time, especially when you were recuperating from your leg surgeries. And she is as heartbroken as we are. She loved all her grand puppies, but you were her special boy. We took you to doggie play dates and you behaved so well. You knew to stay away from any potential trouble situation, but you were friendly to all. You always got attention wherever we went. When my employer said there was a mandatory instruction class to attend, I made you and your breed my focus and you stood out.
Awe inspiring – that’s you.

You loved having your paws rubbed and we did it as often as possible. You would “pet” us with those heavy paws of yours and sometime we got wonderful, sloppy kisses and big old Leo hugs. We wondered at your flexibility in your sleep as you slept on your back.

You had a “woof” that would make anyone think twice about coming close, but you were the most gentle giant. You played nice with Nikki even as he got older and senile. You ran and played with Sunshine for a while and then got Gypsy as a new playmate. You were there when we had critical health issues for Daddy and me.

When we moved to Texas you were 8 years old and some gray was showing in your face. You handled the long drive like a trooper, but then you were always good in the car and loved going for rides. You loved prowling the new yard and got your first taste of snow. You saw deer and who knows what else. But your eyes were starting to dim and your hearing wasn’t quite what it used to be. Then you met Spock and at first you did not act friendly at all. Spock was apparently a threat and you were going to let him know who the boss was. But Spock was a sick little boy himself and when we decided to keep him you were okay with that. You met him inside the house instead of outside; did that make such a difference to you? But you actually played with him a little and I think his youth brought a playful side back to you for a while.

This year you had a bad ear infection and had a hematoma, first in the left ear and then in the right. And not long after that you started having the problems with your back legs. We knew it was serious when you couldn’t get up without help. Evidently, you were beyond the laser treatments and we knew what we had to do when your front legs were “knuckling”. The doctor suspected a brain tumor. But you were so strong, even with this latest affliction; you would not have an accident in the house and you did your best to get up. We helped you outside but you could not stand to do your business. The whole process had to be a terrible ordeal for you and we knew you were not happy with this. You are a dignified, beautiful, brave boy and this is not what we wanted for you; I’m sure you didn’t want to live like that.

Our hearts broke today as we said goodbye to your beautiful soul. You took a piece of us but also left a huge piece of yourself and we will never forget you. I hope you find Sunshine and Nikki and Samantha. Biggin is there somewhere and although you never met him, you would have been great together. Now I can picture you running around chasing birds on straight legs without pain, and my brave boy; I believe we’ll see you again. Run! Run! Run!

 

Samantha – what a treasure! You came to us and stayed with us during some of our darkest times.

I first saw you as a little black puppy after a co-worker pointed you out; you were outside the building where I worked and it had just stormed, so you were soaked! I tried very hard to find your family but had no luck and could only assume someone had lost your or more unthinkably abandoned you. I thought I found you a home with another co-worker, but his dog did not like you, so to our good fortune you came to live with us and three other dogs. Boy, was our house full!

Daddy had recently been in a car accident and you helped him recuperate although I don’t think he appreciated you chewing his watchband while he tried to hold you. One time you chewed up a bar of soap and I kept expecting soap bubbles to come out of your mouth.

You grew into a beautiful black dog that looked almost like a Golden Retriever except for your shiny black coat. You were a willful little thing, full of spunk and determination. You thought it was great fun to run away from us; and always when we were in a hurry would you refuse to come in from the backyard. You taught Sunshine how to dig and the two of you would disappear causing me a lot of heart palpitations. Sometimes you played too rough with her and Biggin would bark at you; just that would make the two of you stop. He was definitely your boss. Nikki would play between your paws, a little white Peke against that beautiful black coat.

One day many years ago, after coming in from romping outside you began to stagger around like someone who had one too many. You couldn’t stand up and my first thought was you had been stung or snake bit. Daddy and I called the vet and rushed you to their office (they had their own emergency service at the time). Of course this happened on Thanksgiving Day. We were more than relieved to find out you had a very bad ear infection that had affected your equilibrium. I always made sure your little ears were clean after that.

In May 2001 we lost our beloved Biggin and you assumed control as the alpha dog, a mistake we allowed to happen, but didn’t realize it at the time. In 2002 we brought home a new puppy, a little boy named Chief. I don’t know whether you liked him at the time, but after he came home your dominance became an issue and you really lit into Sunshine. We talked to “experts” about your behavior, but never got a satisfactory result. Fearing the worst might happen, I begged your Grandma to take temporary custody of you (that was eight years ago). This “custody” change became one of the best things that ever happened to your Grandma because this was the same year my Daddy passed away. She was alone and having you helped her so much. I’ll never forget the first night you spent with her, she called me and said “Samantha is growling at me”. I became alarmed at first, but then I heard you through the phone and I had to laugh. You were a “talker”. We still laugh about that and probably always will.

Grandma loved you and did all kinds of little extras, usually in the form of her left over dinner. We were constantly watching your weight. The next eight years you saw her through bouts of pneumonia, hurricanes, broken bones and surgery. You had your share of issues, too. In May of 2008 your toenail became infected and after unsuccessful treatment, had to have the toe amputated. It didn’t faze you a bit. The following year things got a little more serious. In addition to increasing arthritic problems, Grandma told me your eye didn’t look right. We found out you had glaucoma, probably due to some kind of trauma or injury though we couldn’t think what trauma or injury you could have suffered. Our vet did everything he could, but nothing he did worked so we were referred to a Veterinary Ophthalmologist who tweaked your meds, also with negative results. Ultimately, your beautiful right brown eye had to be removed and then we discovered there was a tumor, but it was removed with no difficulty. You did look like Frankenstein’s puppy for a while, what with drains above and below your shaved face; but hair grows back and again you handled it like a trooper.

Then 2010 came with a lot of changes. You must have been so confused with all the packing. After Grandma had her shoulder replacement surgery, the two of you moved with us to Texas and you reunited with Chief and two other dogs. I hoped you would all get along, but you pretty much just ignored each other. I know you probably missed patrolling your old yard. Being in your 14th year I was concerned how you would do during the move, but again you hung in there with your old stamina.

Poor baby – growing old is not for sissies and you were no sissy. Your arthritis was flaring up, your right side especially bad and I was having difficulty finding a local vet that could perform Veterinary Orthopedic Manipulations (every vet should be able to perform this treatment). Finally I found a vet an hour’s drive from our new home, but she was very kind, very compassionate and very patient. We liked her immediately and I think you did too. She gave you some great massages that made me envious and of course there were those famous doggie treats. Then she suggested a new laser treatment that might be more effective. We did try and I think they were to a point, but I think your poor body was getting tired of it all. Everything was such an effort, getting up, getting in the car, etc. Then, last week during a laser treatment, the tech discovered one of several fatty lumps on your body started to ooze. When she pulled the hair away for a better look, it started bleeding quite profusely and it took cauterization and styptic powder to stop it. Grandma and I were concerned about it starting up again, which was quite likely, so we elected to have it surgically removed. The vet was not keen to do so because of your age, but Grandma and I thought it would be best. Maybe the procedure accelerated things, maybe not…

You were pretty weak after the surgery and we helped you walk with a towel under your hips. For the first few days we helped you up and outside and you did walk by yourself, but you seemed to weaken and before long I was doing most of the holding up. We were hoping you would get your strength back and Grandma fed you pretty much anything you wanted. Your appetite never failed and you loved everything. We had to watch our fingers a couple of times, there was nothing wrong with your teeth. But at some point, I think it all caught up to you and every movement was effort, even lying down. I talked to the vet and I even called our Florida vet for some advice.

Grandma and I made the heartbreaking decision that you should keep the rest of your dignity. Your spirit was there, but it was tired and being held in a body that didn’t work anymore. You needed to rest. It was so difficult getting you in the car; did you know where you were going? After the longest car ride of my life, we arrived at the vet and two techs came out and carried you inside. We sat with you and talked to you telling you how much we loved you. The vet gave you a shot that let you go into a peaceful sleep, and we stayed with you. After a few moments, she gave you the last shot you would ever have and you stepped onto Rainbow Bridge.

I know that you are chasing cats and squirrels all over the Bridge, free of pain and fast as lightning with your bluish black coat just shining. We miss you so very much, but you will always be with us. We feel blessed to have had such an incredible being in our lives; we needed you as much as you needed us. Please, be nice to Sunshine –