Author: Dan and Kathy

We had gone to the shelter to adopt a miniature dachshund puppy, but immediately realized that the puppy would find a home very soon. So we looked in the kennel next to him and saw an old basset hound with a giant tumor on his front leg. Realizing that no one was going to adopt him and that he would probably be euthanized, we decided to take him home. After taking him to the vet, a biopsy of his tumor showed that it was malignant, and the vet gave him 3-12 months to live. But Otis loved us, and he hung on for almost two years.

He was Mama’s Big Boy to my wife, and she adored this family dog, who she said had an old soul. Otis was the most affectionate of all our dogs, and loved to rub against anyone who would let him. If he could have fit, he would have sat in your lap. There was a special bond between my wife and Otis, and he always wanted to be near her.

The few times we accidentally took our eyes off him outside, we could see how his hound’s nose would have led him to disappear on his previous owner. Although he moved slowly, he would just keep going, following his nose. Fortunately, we always caught up to him. Otis became friends with the other dogs in the house, Annie and Bella, and after Bella died, Buddy. He even got along with Midnight, my wife’s cat of 16 years.

Sadly, his cancer finally caught up with him, as he had been incontinent for several months, lost a lot of weight, lost his ability to use his hind legs, and was in pain. We made the decision to euthanize him, and since we are both opposed to the practice except in cases of irreversible pain and suffering, it was a very difficult decision. Otis was very happy living with us, and was very loving to everyone. He was the epitome of a Good Dog.

Our Little Man, our joy and our love, our protector and best friend, passed on Friday, April 9, 2021 at 3:35pm at the age of fourteen. We are heartbroken. Buddy was the best dog ever, incredibly intelligent, loyal, loving, playful and always protecting mama. A dachshund-corgi mix, he had been found as a puppy roaming the streets in Everett, Washington in 2007. Initially, we were just going to foster him until we found a permanent home, but Buddy had other ideas. He won us over with his personality and brains. We adopted him, and he happily accompanied us all around Washington and California as we moved numerous times for work, and he was always happy to explore each new place, never nervous or afraid.

We rescued dozens of dogs over the years, and Buddy was the smartest of them all. He was the best dog for many reasons. He was Kathy’s protector, he was fearless, he helped raise or take care of dozens of animals, not just other dogs, but cats, bunnies and more. And they all loved him. But at times, he had to show the others who was boss, and I once saw Buddy chest bump a 100 pound black lab who was not behaving. The lab backed down. Buddy was truly one-of-a-kind.

Although he was from the Puget Sound area, he loved the hot summer days of California’s North Valley. He would often lie on the concrete when it was 100 degrees outside, soaking up the sun. But his favorite place to be was on the lawn on a warm, sunny day, when he would roll, rub his face on the grass, and just lie there.

He loved to chase tennis balls, especially the squeaky type. That was our favorite time together, when I would squeeze the ball to get his attention, and he would run to get it from me, growling the entire time he had it. And there was no taking it back! We always needed multiple balls in order to continue playing. In his last couple of years he was mostly blind and partly deaf, but he could still hear the high pitch of the ball’s squeak when I squeezed it, and he would make his way to it. When Buddy took the ball from me, he would jump into his his bed, chewing on it and growling, until I squeezed another ball and then it would start all over again. Even in his last weeks, I squeezed the ball until it squeaked, and Buddy gently took it from my hand, growling his adorable little growl.

Buddy, we love you, now and always, from the time that you came into our lives, and until we breathe our last breaths. And if there is a heaven, I only want to go there if you and all of our other animal friends are there as well. Rest in well deserved peace, Mister Buddy. Your spirit will be with us forever.  

 

Buddy, Spring 2007 – 4/9/2021

We had gone to the shelter to adopt a miniature dachshund puppy, but immediately realized that the puppy would find a home very soon. So we looked in the kennel next to him and saw an old basset hound with a giant tumor on his front leg. Realizing that no one was going to adopt him and that he would probably be euthanized, we decided to take him home. After taking him to the vet, a biopsy of his tumor showed that it was malignant, and the vet gave him 3-12 months to live. But Otis loved us, a
nd he hung on for almost two years.

He was Momma’s Big Boy to my wife, and she adored this family dog, who she said had an old soul. Otis was the most affectionate of all our dogs, and loved to rub against anyone who would let him. If he could have fit, he would have sat in your lap. There was a special bond between my wife and Otis, and he always wanted to be near her.

The few times we accidentally took our eyes off him outside, we could see how his hound’s nose would have led him to disappear on his previous owner. Although he moved slowly, he would just keep going, following his nose. Fortunately, we always caught up to him. Otis became friends with the other dogs in the house, Annie and Bella, and after Bella died, Buddy. He even got along with Midnight, my wife’s cat of 16 years.

Sadly, his cancer finally caught up with him, as he had been incontinent for several months, lost a lot of weight, lost his ability to use his hind legs, and was in pain. We made the decision to euthanize him, and since we are both opposed to the practice except in cases of irreversible pain and suffering, it was a very difficult decision. Otis was very happy living with us, and was very loving to everyone. He was the epitome of a Good Dog.

 

There has been a place in my heart for all of our animals, mostly rescues, but Annie was the one I loved the most. Many people would not understand, for when we rescued her in early 2006, she was already old and in bad shape. She had no teeth, was partially blind and partially deaf. Apparently, she was rescued from a drug raid in the Tacoma, Washington area, and had suffered an unhappy life. Annie was never one to cuddle, and when we first took her in, she would stand in corners. She got over that, but to her last month, she was always restless, constantly pacing around the house until she was tired and then would sleep.
And she slept a lot.

But there was one thing about Annie that endeared her to me: every morning after she woke up and we took her outside to relieve herself, she would come in the house and run with absolute, unbridled joy, glad to be alive. It was a sight to behold! She ran with both front paws in unison, like a puppy, and her rear legs propelled her, sometimes getting airborne! We called her Jumpin’ Annie, and at times, Airborne Annie. She only had the energy to do this for a short while, but watching her run, tongue hanging out, mouth open, joy on her face, filled me with love for her. As she got older, she would still try, and her front paws came off the ground, but her rear legs could not propel her as well, and sometimes she just hopped in place. During these morning runs, Annie would also playfully bite at one of the other dogs’ ears.
It was so cute!

Annie, I am sorry that I could not save you. The day before you died, you gave me a look that said, “What is wrong? Please make me better!” But I was not able to do anything. We brought you to two different vets, and they were unable to do anything for you either, and the experience only traumatized you. I am so sorry that I failed you. I feel that I betrayed you, that I should have been able to save you. You had a terrible life before you came to us, and I wanted you to have many years of happiness with us. For the three years that you graced us with your presence, you taught me the meaning of unconditional love, and there will always be a big place in my heart for you. I hope that there is a happy afterlife for both dogs and people, and that someday we can see each other again. I love you, my dear Jumpin’ Annie!

 

We rescued Bella four years ago, in the summer of 2003. She was a red miniature dachshund with a broken tail, and we were happy to have her join our family. One of my favorite memories of Bella was when she played “defend the bed.” This would happen when I worked evening shifts and would come home at 11:00pm or so. If Bella was on the bed with my wife, and she usually was, she would see me come in the door and would start running all over the bed. I would get on my knees at the edge of the bed and peer over the top, eyeball to eyeball with Darling Bella. She would dart and dodge, make very playful bark/growl sounds, advance as if to attack me only to draw back at the last second, and we would play for about 5-10 minutes this way. It was so cute, and we both loved it.

Bella died this afternoon, September 2 2007. It was very difficult to watch her the last couple of days. A week ago she seemed fine, but now there is a hole in our hearts and our home. We miss you beautiful Bella.