Author: Helen Malinauskas & Joe Bielinski

Echo “Miss Pudge” our little “bowling ball with legs”. You looked like such a fat cat but truth be told you were so small and petite, all fur. You wandered into our yard one cold November so long ago, and decided to hang around. At first you appeared to be feral, so we fed you and wondered how we were going to go about catching you. After about a week of feeding you, you started getting closer and closer to me and I realized you weren’t feral at all–just a little skittish. I was thinking of getting the live trap out and one day I went outside and you were sitting on the deck. You let me pet you and we became friends. I got up to come in the house and you followed me right in–the rest is history.

You had a lazy eye (an old injury our Vet said) and when you got excited it rolled up into your head and it made you look sort of deranged or something. You were very independent and arrogant and knew your mind. You only wanted love and affection on your terms but over time you seemed to crave both. I have had a lot of cats in my life, and loved them all, but you were my soulmate and greatest love. There was something about you that stoled my heart and soul.

We had many good years together as you took over our house and our hearts. You knew your place, you were the “queen”. You weren’t mean or ornery you just knew what you wanted and how you wanted it and weren’t bashful about letting the other cats and dogs know. There was always an aura of excitement about you as you kept everybody in their place.

We had just recently lost Jewel another one of our cats and we were grieving for her and trying to console her kids; Mo and Bonkese who were beside themselves with grief. Suddenly one day you vomited, something you had never done in all the time we had you. We thought nothing of it, as it’s not uncommon for cats to do. The next day you did it again and we noticed you weren’t eating. We still weren’t overly alarmed, thinking you just had an upset stomach. By the third day you still weren’t eating and still vomiting, so off to the Vet you went. After drawing blood we discovered your liver enzymes weren’t good. An x-ray revealed a mass on your liver. A biopsy came back with our worst fear–cancer. So suddenly and peacefully you left us. You were gone before we had a chance to realize what was happening. We are still in shock and miss you terribly–it is so hard to believe you are gone.

We were allowed to save you any suffering and for that we are grateful, but in our hearts it never should have happened like this. You have crossed the Bridge and are now with our others who have gone before you and we know you have everything “under control”. You crossed the Bridge quietly and with dignity–the same way you came into our house and our lives. We miss your presence and your goofy looking eye when you were excited. My soulmate and love of my life–“Miss Pudge”–there will never be another like you. Be at peace baby girl, till we meet again.

 

Goofy Rufy or B.O.B (Burnt Out Beagle) as you were commonly known–you were definitely one special guy. Through no fault of your own, you “marched to a different drummer”.

You came to me as a birthday present from Dad. The year before you came,I lost my beloved Ginger Beagle who I had had for almost 16 years. Although we had 8 other dogs at the time, I missed not having a Beagle. Dad rescued you from a place that bred beagles for research, so in a way you were saved from a life of pain and suffering. When we got you, you were 4 months old and little did we know the adventure you would take us on.

The second day we had you, you had a full blown grand mal seizure. Luckily we were familiar with seizure dogs, as we had rescued many in the past. The thing that was different about you is that you seizured bad and often, right from the beginning. This was not a good thing at such a young age. After the first week of almost daily seizures, we took you to the Vet to look for a cause. Preliminary testing showed nothing abnormal so we attributed it to epilepsy. You were started on Phenobarbitol and hopefully we could get the seizures under control. The seizures lessened in frequency but not severity. Without doing an MRI we could only assume that it was epilepsy. We couldn’t afford an MRI so we changed the dose of the Phenobarb and added Potassium Bromide. That seemed to do the trick. The seizures lessened in both frequency and severity. You were down to maybe 1 or 2 seizures a year and you maintained at that level for many years.

The thing was however, you acted like you were “on drugs”, probably because you were! You were never quite with the program. We had to keep a careful eye on you because you were prone to getting yourself in situations that could have been disasterous. You were pretty much in your own little world but it didn’t seem to bother you and you were happy and content to live your life your own way. Your were never “normal” but it didn’t matter, we loved you just the same and you were very special to us.

We were told early on that you probably wouldn’t live past maybe 4 or 5 years old because the drugs you were on would cause liver damage because they would become highly toxic over time. We had to keep you on them though because at some point the seizures would have killed you–they were that severe.

Despite everything, you were a typical beagle–NUTS! You loved to eat and to howl at everything, sometimes we think only things you could see or hear. You were a world-class lover and into your comforts. You were the only beagle we knew that couldn’t stand the elements, you freaked when you got wet; be it snow or rain or the garden hose. You never would have made a hunter, getting mud on your paws upset you too!! You were certainly different.

When you were about 10 years old, we noticed you were losing weight even though you ate like a horse. We took you to the Animal Hospital and had all kinds of tests done. It appeared you were leaking protein somewhere and they couldn’t find where. We started feeding you high protein food which normally isn’t good for a dog your age, but it appeared to help keep some weight on you.

Life went on and you were happy and content and best of all pretty much seizure free. Our Vet and all the other Drs. at the Animal Hospital were just amazed at how well you were doing and that you were still alive–nobody thought you would live as long as you did and more astonishing that your liver and kidneys both looked good even after all the years of the drugs. You were a wonder dog and didn’t even know it!!!

We knew from the start that we were on borrowed time with you and unfortunately that time was starting to run out. Suddenly you slowed down on your eating and began acting weak and disoriented. Off to the Vet and to everyone’s amazement, you had gone into heart failure. It caught us all by surprise because we thought and expected the end to come in the form of either liver or kidney failure. We couldn’t treat the heart failure because of the other medicines you were taking. We couldn’t take you off of those medicines because we couldn’t risk the seizures starting up again.

With very heavy hearts we had to let you go because we were not going to let you suffer in any way, you had already had a lifetime of problems. We had at least 8 “bonus” years with you that nobody thought would have happened. For the dog who should have died at 4 years old, you lived to be 13 and flabbergasted some of the best Drs. around here.

You gave us so much joy and love, we are forever thankful to you for letting us share your life. Your will and determination and our love and care made it one hell of a ride. You taught us patience and perserverance and gave us a different view of life. THANK YOU for choosing us Beagle B.O.B, your memory will live with us forever, we will never forget you, there will never ever be another beagle as special as you.

Be at peace with our other “kids” who have crossed the Bridge–we are looking forward to seeing you again

 

You came to us as a package deal, you and your son and daughter. You were maybe 8 months old and your “kids” were about 8 weeks. You were originally rescued by our good friend Paula. She had rescued you on the Thursday before Memorial Day and had made arrangements to take you to the vet to be spayed on the Tuesday after the holiday. Unfortunately, Paula was killed in a tragic car accident two days after she rescued you. She hadn’t even brought in the house yet. With all the commotion following her accident, you disappeared. I wondered what had happened to you as we took several of Paula’s other animals
to come and live with us.

I didn’t have to wonder for long, because the following Labor Day weekend you showed up at her house–with your little family.Unfortunately you weren’t spayed in time. A phone call from her husband brought us up to get all of you. You became a part of our menagerie.

You were the sweetest girl, a lover to the point of being obnoxious! You always did “eskimo kisses” and were none too shy about it either. Any and everybody who came to our house were showered with your kisses and constant need for attention. You even insisted about giving them to the dogs–some of them who were not real happy about it either, but you were persistant and we all learned
to accept your loving ways.

You and your “kids” were inseparatable. The three of you could be found cuddling ang playing together continually. When you took sick they were beside themselves. We noticed you were having trouble eating, so off to the vet you went. You ended up staying there for a week getting IV’s and trying to get you to eat. At first the tests showed nothing abnormal. On the fourth day a follow-up x-ray showed a mass on your pancreas–a biopsy showed it was cancerous. We never got to bring you home. We feel terrible that you spent a week in the hospital, had we known sooner–you would have come home to be with your kids in the end. We had to let you go and you never got to say good-bye to them. They haven’t been the same since you have left us and they miss you terribly, as we do. Your son Mo walks the hallway every night looking for you and cries the most mourn cry we have ever heard. Bonkers, your daughter is still looking for you too, and clings even more to Mo than she ever did. The three of you had never been apart
and it is very hard for them.

We all miss your kisses and your loving ways–you left us way too suddenly and too soon. We know that you were happy here and your kids will be here and loved until they join you at the Bridge. You have a lot of company there with all your “brothers and sisters” who have gone before you and we’re sure they are enjoying your kisses. We are so sorry that we couldn’t do more for you but you are at peace now and no longer suffering. We are looking forward to your kisses when we meet you at the Bridge.
You were the sweetest girl—

 

Mykye “little talker”, the cat who had an opinion about everything. From the time we got you at the age of six weeks; you always had something to say. Over all the years we had you, we didn’t know what you were talking about most of the time; but you were happy and so were we.

You were our “forever kitten”; never getting very big but always a lover and a cuddler. You were such a good boy, always accepting all the additions to our household and suffering through all the losses. In your entire life you were never once sick or had any problems. Unfortunately you saved all that for the one and only time at the end.

On Christmas Eve Day you started vomiting and wouldn’t eat. Something told me that it was more than a little upset stomach. Being the holidays we decided to take you in to the vet immediately. Dr. Melissa knew too, it was something serious. She ran tests and did x-rays and spent her whole holiday in the hospital with you. All of Christmas Day she tried to get you to eat, but to no avail. The day after Christmas, we got the news–the tests were back and you had pancreatic cancer. It came so fast and was so aggressive. We had to let you go that day, there was nothing that could be done. In a matter of two days you went from a happy, talkative boy to being gone from our lives.

Christmastime will never be the same–our lives will never be the same without you. We miss you terribly and all the “conversations” we used to have. We know you are in a better place and with all your “brothers and sisters” that went before you. We’ll “talk” to you at the Bridge some day but until then you are forever in our hearts
sweet boy. Be at peace.

 

You came to me by accident, but it was obvious from the first that we were meant to be. You were at our local Humane Society and my best friend Diane was looking for a beagle and asked me to go with her to see you. You and I bonded the minute we laid eyes on each other and needless to say, Diane did adopt another dog but she also bought you as a birthday present for me. I had no intentions of coming home with a dog that day and Dad was not very happy with me because we already had nine other dogs.

I found out from the people at the Humane Society that you were surrendered from a breeder who showed his dogs in field trials. You had too much white on your tail for breed standards, so he tried to dock your tail (hence your name Doc), but took off too much so you still didn’t meet breed standards. You sadly became disposable to him and ended up at the Humane Society. That turned out to be a blessing though, because we found each other. You never would have excelled in field trials anyway because you were a real couch potato, definitely into your comforts. You were a very self-confident guy, in love with life and just happy doing whatever you were doing at the time. You were the biggest lover and my “baby” right from the very first day. You had your own pace and your own way of doing things and just happily went about your business. Love and happiness radiated from you and you were a favorite with all our friends and family. You rarely had much to say but when you did, that howl of yours would rattle the windows!

You were very special to me and in no time to Dad too, it was hard not to fall in love with you. You became extra special when suddenly in October of 2004, my dear lifelong friend Diane suddenly passed away at the age of 54–we had been friends for 36 years. Having you made me think of her everyday and how thankful I was that she gave you to me.

You and I should have had a lifetime together, but it wasn’t meant to be. Losing you came so suddenly and unexpected that I still can’t believe you’re gone. There was no warnings or symptoms, a total shock. It started with a plugged anal gland, which is normally not a big thing. Well, we had it cleaned out and it plugged again in less than two weeks. The second time we had it cleaned, Dr. Melissa found a polyp. We had the polyp removed and thought that was the end of it. About a month later, same thing happened again and again she found a polyp. The second time she went to remove the polyp, an abnormal sound in your lungs prompted her to do an x-ray. Unfortunately that x-ray revealed a very aggressive and rapidly spreading cancer, there was nothing we could do. Dr. Melissa was as shocked and saddened as we were. You showed no signs of any distress and remained your happy-go-lucky self through it all. We brought you home hoping we would have a little more time with you, but you started slipping and the disease became apparent in less than a week. We did the best and only thing we could for you and it broke our hearts; but your gentle, loving spirit is still and always will be with us. We know you are with Diane and your “brothers and sisters” waiting at the bridge for us and we are looking forward to the day when we are all together again. Although we still have all the other kids, we feel your absence–you were a very special lovable guy and you will be forever in our hearts. We miss you terribly.

 

From the first time you set foot in our door, you were lord and master of the house. You were Dad’s baby and spoiled rotten. We never even left home to get you, you came right to our house so to speak. We had a contractor doing some work for us and he had you out in his truck. Dad asked about you and the guy explained he was going through a divorce and didn’t know what to do with you. The guy noticed all our other dogs and brought you in the house while he was working. By the time he was done he was satisfied that this was a good home and asked Dad if he wanted you. The answer was yes, and you stayed.

You sort of moved right in and took over. As with all dachshunds, you were a cocky little thing and you strutted around like you owned the place, which in fact you did! We nicknamed you Professor Barney Noodlesock and you reigned supreme. Although for the most part you were a lover, you had an ornery streak too. You were Dad’s kid and you made sure all the other kids knew it. You were also a very persistent little bugger–
you got your way one way or the other!

And, you were so protective. I think you thought you were a guard dog or something. If you didn’t know somebody, you really checked them out. If you did know somebody, you were ready to go home with them if they as much as petted you! Everybody thought you were a little doll and several friends and relatives tried to sneak you out of the house. You wouldn’t have stayed gone for long though–not unless Dad went with you, you followed him everywhere and were his right hand man.

I remember the time you and Ginger and Trouble got a muskrat cornered out in the yard. Boy, that was a sight. I was hollering for Dad while trying to keep you all away from it. Ginger and Trouble got their noses ripped open and it took me and Dad to get you away from it–you were ready to kill–we never seen you so intent on protecting your territory. You sure could be a scrapper when you wanted to be.

You ruled the house and took over our bed for 10 years. Everything was fine, we lost you so quick–we still can’t believe you’re gone. One night you started coughing. I thought you had a slight cold and decided to call the vet in the morning. Got you there first thing and she took a chest x-ray because she didn’t like the sound of your lungs. She also didn’t like the looks of the x-ray. Wanted to send you to the Animal Hospital, but it was during the holidays and we couldn’t get an appointment until after the first of the year. She sent us home with antibiotics and said things would be fine. That same afternoon you started coughing blood. We didn’t wait–we rushed you
to the Animal Hospital emergency.

When we got you there, they put you on oxygen and ran some tests. It appeared you had pneumonia, but they’d have to wait until the next day for lab results. We wanted to stay at the hospital, but we had all the other kids at home and there was a blizzard raging and we had to get home. They said you had a 50-50 chance, and they would get you stabilized and we could call when we got home. It took us almost 3 hours to get home and when we got there the phone was ringing–it was the hospital. You had taken a turn for the worse and there was nothing they could do, they wanted permission to euthanize you.

I was so shaken, as I handed the phone to Dad, it was too late–you crossed the Bridge in Val’s arms. Dad and I were inconsolable, we felt so guilty and so helpless. We didn’t want to leave you to begin with and then to have this happen. The only consolation was, if we couldn’t be holding you we would want nobody else except Val, your guardian angel. We know you crossed peacefully and with love.

You’ll never know the guilt that we still carry and the shock of losing you–you were gone in less than 18 hours and we had no idea it was coming. You left us too unexpectedly and way too soon. We still have not gotten over your loss. Dad still struggles with it every day–he can’t believe you’re gone.

We love and miss you very much. We know you’re waiting at the Bridge doing your hoppy-sock thing. Be at Peace, Barney, until we meet again—–

 

You found us totally by surprise. We went to the Humane Society one day, as we frequently did to drop off some donations and Dad had to go in the back and visit the “kids”. Next thing he comes out and says to me, “We have another dog.” When he spotted you it was love at first sight. You were about six years old and just the happiest dog he had ever seen. When I came to look at you, I had my doubts because you were an older dog, a male, a bigger dog, and we already had five smaller dogs at home. But, Dad was right, you were the happiest dog and love just oozed out of you. So, from dropping off donations,
we came home with you.

There was no need to worry, you were a very happy, carefree dog and were content to take your place in the pack–never trying to be dominant, just happy to be with us. You accepted everything just the way it was and went about everything in your own carefree manner. You loved everybody and everybody loved you, animal and human.

You were somewhat of a clown and always found ways to amuse yourself. We knew nothing of your past, but we found it hard to believe that you were an unclaimed stray. You had an air about you, somewhat dignified but yet full of fun and excitement–everything made you happy and that tail of yours never stopped wagging. And you always had a smile on your face, never seen a dog so happy and full of life.

You seldom barked, thankfully, because when you did it was just one low, very deep bark that literally rattled the windows! You also had a thing about fish. Not that you ate them, you were just intrigued with them. When Dad came home from fishing, we had to watch the bucket as he was cleaning fish because you weren’t above taking
them out and playing with them.

One time Dad had some pretty good size catfish and he told me to bring him the last one in the bucket. I went to get it and there was no fish, the bucket was empty. I’m looking around and don’t see anything. Suddenly we look in the front room and there you are playing with a 10 lb. catfish!

I was not real happy with you because you dragged the slimey thing across the carpet, but you were so happy with yourself it was hard for me to holler at you. Besides, we couldn’t do anything but laugh, you were so happy. How you got it out of the bucket without getting stabbed by the fins, is something we never did figure out–but you showed us more than once that you knew how to handle them.

Imagine my terror one day when I found a large tumor in your mouth. I was in a state of panic. We were off to the vet immediately. You had surgery the next day to remove it. It turned out it was cancerous, but the vet said she got it all. The surgery didn’t seem to bother you in the least and you went about life as usual.

We thought things were back to normal when two weeks later the tumor was back. I didn’t know what to do. The vet said she could remove it again and take a bigger area. I was doubtful, but we went ahead and did it anyway. You came through again as though nothing happened, but I was starting to get really worried. Things were okay for about three weeks and it reappeared again.

We decided we weren’t going to put you through another surgery. I talked to Val a very good friend and super vet tech and guardian angel to all our kids. She suggested that we bring you to the Animal Hospital and let a specialist look at you. She has never steered us wrong before and we did not want to let you go, so off to the hospital we went. The specialist you seen Dr. Bruce, was excellent. He said he could get all the cancer but he would have to go really deep. I didn’t want to put you through a lot of pain and I had serious doubts, but Dad and Val convinced me, they had a lot of faith in the doctor.

After the surgery, I was horrified. They had to remove half of your jaw. When I seen you in the recovery room, I hated myself for what I let them do to you. But, when you woke up it was as though nothing happened. Your tail was wagging and you were smiling like always, only your smile was a little crooked! You gave us a big kiss and acted like everything was alright and you were ready to go home. Even the Dr. was amazed how well you did. It never bothered you or caused you any problems with eating or anything–you just accepted it and life went on.

We forgot about the cancer and things were fine, for about a year and a half. Then one night I found a mysterious red lump on your side. I had no idea what is was, but it looked ugly. It didn’t seem to be bothering you but you did seem a little sluggish. The next morning I went to check on you and there were two more lumps and you weren’t acting like your normal energetic self. As soon as the vet opened, we were there. She wasn’t sure what the lumps were either, but aspirated one to find out.

The next day the lab report came back and it was a very aggressive, deadly cancer. It was obvious, because by then you were dying before our eyes and there was nothing we could do. After everything else you went through and then this happening–we were crushed. It was time to let you go–your eyes told us you were ready. As I held you as you crossed the Bridge, you still managed to wag your tail and give me that famous smile—letting me know that you accepted this too and that it was okay. We only had you for 7 years, but they were great years and you truly left pawprints on our hearts.

We will never forget you and your love and acceptance of life. We are so sorry that things happened the way they did, but we know you are at Peace. In our eyes you are truly a hero. Thank you for sharing your love of life with us. Until we meet at the Bridge, dear sweet George, be happy—–

 

There is nothing cuter than a beagle puppy, and you were my first. My cocker, Honey, needed a playmate and because I was so crazy about Snoopy in the Peanuts comic strip, I did some research on beagles and decided that I wanted one. You were 8 weeks old when I got you and were a character from the start. You were definitely your own beagle, sometimes I could imagine you doing the things Snoopy did!

One day I even found you out in the yard, curled up with a baby rabbit that had gotten inside the fence, neither of you aware that something wasn’t right with this picture! You had your own agenda. Throughout your life you had two speeds, slow and stop and two things that motivated you, food and sleep! You were really into being comfortable.

Given the chance, you also liked to run–with your nose to the ground in true beagle fashion–except if you went too far and noticed that you were alone, you laid down and shivered until I finally found you. I remember shortly after we moved up north, you got out of the yard, and nose to the ground took off. Unfortunately, you were so intent on smelling–you ran right into a light pole and almost knocked yourself out!

I think you scared yourself too, because once you got your act together, you came running right to me–tail between your legs and ready to go home. You weren’t so quick to take off for a long time after that.

But, you also had other problems. A week after I got you, you started having seizures. Vets back then didn’t do the kind of tests and stuff like they do today and I was told you had epilepsy. We started you on phenobarbital, but the seizures continued. The medicine wasn’t working and it was making you drugged, so I took you off of it and we managed your seizures the best we could.

Luckily, you didn’t have them too often. When you were 9 years old we moved up north, and I had to find a different vet. I explained your problem to him and he asked me if you had ever had x-rays. You hadn’t, so he wanted to take some and do some other tests. He found your problem immediately. You had cardiomyopathy, probably from birth. He told me it was a miracle you were still alive having gone
untreated all those years.

I was mad that this wasn’t discovered earlier. You were started on medication, but I was warned that due to your age and the severity of the problem that I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Well, you did great. I was preparing myself for the worse and as it turned out, we had 7 more happy, fun years together before you went into heart failure.

I was devastated at losing you, but you beat all the odds and the years we had together were the best. You not only made me a lifelong beagle lover, but you inspired me to help animals with health problems and to question diagnosis, because like with doctors–vets aren’t always right either.

I have since gone on to doing animal rescue, mostly special needs animals and some of them beagles. You were truly a love and an inspiration and I know you’re waiting for me at the Bridge–hoping I’ll have a treat for you! I miss you terribly and think of you often–still laughing about the crazy things you used to do.

Rest in Peace, sweet girl and
keep being your own beagle
until we meet again—-

 

I truly believe that God sent you to me to lift my spirits. You showed up on my porch one day, all dirty and matted and scared to death. At the time I had two dogs and my then husband said no way could I keep you, so I took you to the Humane Society. Back then they held you for seven days and if you weren’t claimed I could adopt you or you would be euthanized. I thought about you for the whole time. You looked so much like our other Fluffy who we had lost about a year earlier. Actually, you could have been one of his offspring (he roamed a lot!)

After the seven days, the Humane Society called and said no one had claimed you and I had 24 hours to adopt you. It didn’t take much deciding and I went down and got you. It caused a lot of problems and eventually the husband left but you stayed–good deal as far as I was concerned!

You were about a year to eighteen months old when you came according to my vet. When I took you for a check-up it was also discovered that you were pregnant. On the vet’s advice we aborted the puppies because he said they were too big for you to deliver naturally and you were pretty malnourished yourself at the time. Veterinary medicine was a lot less sophisticated back then. But everything turned out okay and you turned out to be a wonderful “kid”, so much like our other Fluffy. You had eyes that were almost human and I used to call you ” my little people in a doggy suit”. You seemed to sense and understand everything and although you had your snarly side at times you were generally a good girl. You were pretty much your own dog and
did things on your terms.

We had a good life together, a little over 15 years–some good times, some bad but we got through them together. It was truly sad when old age took it’s toll. You developed arthritis and eventually went blind. Your quality of life was not good anymore. Even though you were blind, your eyes told me you were ready to cross the Bridge. I had two lifetimes with similar dogs who both taught me a lot and put things in perspective for me. You went very peacefully and although I mourned your loss, I celebrated your life, thank you for sharing it with me. I know you’ll find me at the Bridge–just like you found me in life. Be at Peace—-

 

You were the dog of my childhood. Actually, you were the family dog but seemed to have bonded with me. We got you was I was about 12 years old.

You were the nicest dog. I could dress you up, play tug of war, cuddle and watch TV, whatever; you were just glad to be with me as I was to be with you. You were more like a little brother instead of a dog.

Throughout my teen years you were there for me. Sometimes I felt like you were the only friend I had. You sat quietly and listened to all my problems and gave me kisses and cuddled when you seemed to think I needed that. You knew all my dreams and wishes and you kept all my secrets; I couldn’t have asked for a truer friend.

Even after I got married and moved away from home, you were the first one to greet me when I came to visit. We always had to have our private time together too–usually going for a walk. You were a part of the family for 16 years and are responsible for giving me my love of animals. Because of you I vowed I would always have a dog in my life and as things have turned out, I’ve done animal rescue of both dogs and cats for most of my adult life. The bond we had and the love we shared has made me a better person and I am grateful to you for instilling that in me. When old age finally took it’s toll on you, it was time to let you go. It was a terrible heartbreak for me–I’d lost my dearest friend. I miss you and think of you often.

Thank you dear friend, companion and confidante for sharing your life with me. I know I will see you at the Bridge where you are eagerly waiting as always.

 

Our gorgeous girl. You came to us in a roundabout way. As a pup you belonged to a neighbor of ours. When he went to work, he would tie you up outside all day until he came home. We didn’t know him, but one day Mom went and talked to him and asked if it was okay for you to spend the day at our house, sort of like doggy day care. We had eight dogs at the time and thought you’d enjoy spending the day playing with them instead of being tied to a tree. So began 2 years of doggy day care for you.

You were a very happy, energetic pup and loved being at our house playing with everybody and enjoying yourself. Then your owner’s job forced him to travel and he only came home on weekends. At the time we didn’t know this, but suddenly you were gone. Through the grapevine we found out he had given you to a friend of his. We were crushed, he could have asked us–we would have taken you in a minute.

Time went by, almost two years, and suddenly you were back. During this time we had not talked to your owner so we didn’t know the circumstances. Well, we noticed you tied to the tree again only this time 24/7 and some other neighbors feeding and watering you occasionally. Mom watched on the weekend and when your owner came home she went and talked to him. Turned out the friend that he had given you too was badly abusing and neglecting you. He took you back but didn’t know what else to do with you because he still had to be gone all week. When questioned, he said you weren’t offered to us in the first place because he didn’t know us and figured because we already had eight dogs we wouldn’t want another one. Boy, was he wrong! You would have been spared a lot of pain and suffering if your owner would have just asked us. After clearing this up, you came to live with us immediately.

By now you were almost 5 years old and the abuse you suffered for those two years you were gone took it’s toll. You were no longer carefree and happy, you were cowering and afraid. We gave you all the love and understanding we could but you never trusted anybody again. It it so sad what ugly people can do to beautiful dogs.

We had to watch you around the other dogs now because you were nippy and agressive and we also had to watch how we approached you, even though you knew us and knew we would never hurt you.If we hollered at you, you became submissive and lost bladder control. We loved you all the same and you stayed with us until one day you attacked one of the other dogs and it became apparent we couldn’t trust you anymore. You were no longer a happy dog and the fear that was instilled in you was taking over your life. One day you bit Mom. We took you to the vet to see if there might be an underlying physical problem for your behavior. After running tests, it was discovered that you had bladder cancer.

There was no cure and we would not let you suffer any more than you already had during your life. With heavy hearts we let you go. What changed your behavior was not your fault and you did the best you could. We understood that and that’s why we brought you to be with us. If only at the time your owner would have thought to ask us, things could have been so much better for you. You were a beautiful girl and we loved you in spite of everything. There is nothing to be afraid of anymore–you are at peace now and nobody will ever hurt you again.

 

You were a very unique looking dog. (Our vet thought you were probably the result of inbreeding.) The minute we saw you, we knew you were coming home with us. You had been abandoned–tied up outside our local Humane Society. And boy, you were a mess! Your coat was matted and filthy and you had a severe ear infection and smelled something awful. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed. We brought you home,cleaned you up and treated your ears. A beautiful boy appeared! We figured you were about a year old and such a lovable guy, we couldn’t understand how someone could abandon you.

You were so happy and playful and full of life. You loved to be loved and gave love in return. It was fun to watch you–you were so comical and strange looking. People told us they thought you were the ugliest dog they had ever seen, but to us you were beautiful; inside and out.

One day you started acting strange. You would sit and stare and the wall and howl and you became very uncoordinated. We took you to the vet and he thought it was something neurological. We made an appointment at the Animal Hospital for more detailed tests. They took X-rays, drew blood, did everything and found nothing. Finally, Dr. Chavez (the neurologist to whom we are forever grateful) had an idea to check your liver. We had an ultrasound done and it revealed you had a liver shunt. That explained your behavior, your ammonia levels were effecting your brain. We were told that this can be easily corrected in most cases with surgery to repair the shunt. Without hesitation you had surgery, figuring the problem would be solved and things would return to normal.

To this day, we are still asking why–but when then opened you up, you had hundreds of shunts not just one, they didn’t show up on the ultrasound. They were unrepairable. We were told this is seen in maybe 1 in a million dogs. You were the one. Nothing could be done and we were sent home with medicine, the prognosis of maybe six months and broken hearts. The medicine seemed to work and your life was pretty normal–for exactly six months to the day. You started acting strange again and vomiting profusely. We knew it was time. You were with us for such a short time but brought us so much joy and love. In so many ways to us you were a 1 in a million and we know we will never
see another one like you.

We know you are happy and at Peace and that we will have an eternity to spend with you. We miss you terribly–you left your pawprints everywhere. We’ll never forget you.
Until we meet again—-

 

We got you from some friends of ours when you were about five years old. Due to a career change they could no longer keep you because they travelled a lot.

You were a very contented cat, just laid around and enjoyed life. You always had a smile that reminded us of the Cheshire cat. You also had a nasty sinus problem that we were constantly treating with antibiotics. You earned the nickname Boogly for obvious reasons. Finally, we took you to the Animal Hospital to see if they could do something because we were worried that all the medicine was doing something to your immune system. It turned out that all that needed to be done was to have your sinuses “drilled” out. We had that done and thereafter you were never bothered with problems again.

You had a long and happy life with us until you developed kidney failure. We treated it best we could but eventually you just quit eating. There was nothing more we could do and it was time to let you cross. You went as quietly and peacefully as you lived. We will always remember your smiling, inquisitive face and the contentment you enjoyed and spread to us. We miss you but know that you are resting across the Bridge and waiting for us.

 

We got you when you were about a year old. You were a stray and had apparently been outside for a long time. You had lost the tips of your ears and the end of your tail to frostbite, but we still thought you were a very handsome boy. And you were such a BIG boy, by far the largest cat we ever had. You looked like such a bully. The first time we saw you we wondered about bringing you home, you weren’t exactly the friendliest cat around. But Mom fell in love with you and when she looked into your eyes she said they were full of love, your attitude was just an act.

It turned out she was pretty much right. You got along with the other cats and were loving towards us, but you put a fear in the dogs. They gave you a wide berth. That is, until we got the chihuahuas. You were scared silly of them and wouldn’t even come into the room if they were there. We never could figure that out because you were easily three times the size of any one of them. It was actually sort of comical because as big and bullish as you looked, they turned you into an instant sissy.

You were very happy and loving for the nine years that we had you. Losing you came as a jolt totally out of the blue, we never even suspected it. It happened all because we took you in to have your teeth cleaned. Whoever thought that would result in your passing? Two days after you had them cleaned you quit eating and started vomiting. You looked horrible. On the third day we took you to the vet and blood work showed you had acute pancreatitis, possibly triggered by the anesthestic. There was nothing we could do but let you cross the Bridge. We were in total shock, we had know idea we were about to lose you. We did the humane thing and let you cross over. We miss you terribly because you were such a good boy and we were honored that you allowed us to share your life.

Rest in Peace Big Guy–you left pawprints on our hearts. We will find you at the Bridge and be together again.

 

You came from a very neglectful and abusive situation and we got you because of a tragedy. For several years we seen your original owner letting you breed continually because he wasn’t smart enough to get you spayed. He also ignored you and you were forced to fend for yourself. Finally when you were about 4 years a old, a good friend and fellow rescuer, Paula, rescued you. You were finally going
to have a loving home.

Unfortunately, a few months after you were rescued, Paula was tragically killed in an automobile accident. Mom and Paula had a pact that if anything happened to either of them the other would take care of the animals.
Hence, you came to us.

You still were recovering but we noticed you were having what appeared to be balance problems. We took you to the vet and she said it was a problem with your ear. She gave us medicine but it didn’t help. After about two weeks we took you to the Animal Hospital for an evaluation.

It turned out you had either a brain tumor or a brain lesion. We didn’t bother to do an MRI to find out which because neither one was operable. They sent us home with prednisone and little hope, we were told maybe 6 months. The prednisone corrected your balance problem and you got back to normal, except you were blind. It didn’t really affect you much because you followed the other animals around and seemed pretty normal. You adjusted to us very well and appeared happy and healthy–but we knew
what lurked in the background.

Amazingly you maintained a very good quality of life for almost 2 1/2 years. Suddenly the balance problems came back and you started having coordination problems as well. We took you back to the Animal Hospital and after further checking, they discovered that whatever was on your brain had shifted and the medicine was no longer working. The next thing that would happen would be seizures–probably very violent ones. We couldn’t allow that to happen. Your quality of life was not good anymore.

You were such a sweet girl and deserved a better life than you had and at least we tried to make the last years as good as we could. The day we made the decision to let you cross the Bridge was a very sad day because Trouble was also having problems and we had to let her go too. She always worried about you and guided you and in the end she helped you across the Bridge so you didn’t have to go alone. We know you are at peace now and enjoying the happiness you deserve. We are sure Paula is there with you and we will also see you again some day. Rest in Peace sweet angel,
you were a brave little girl.

 

You were a six week old fuzz ball when we got you. We bought you home to a house with three older dogs and we weren’t too sure how things would work out. As it turned out, we had nothing to worry about. Contrary to your name you were anything but trouble. Right from the beginning you took over as the alpha dog and looked after everybody else.

You were always somewhat of a loner and seemed uninterested but you were the matriarch of the family for many years and were always aware of what was going on. You were right there when someone was sick and forever watchful of everything.We called you “Trizz Head”(you never fully lost your puppy fuzz!) and ” Oafy Doafy Somebody’s Puppy ” but you knew whose puppy you were.

You had so much compassion and such deep feelings that at times we worried about you. Whenever someone was sick you got all nervous, like a mother hen and stayed by their side until they felt better. When one crossed the Bridge, you sat and cried with us for days, the only dog we’ve ever seen actually shed real tears. We know it was hard for you because in your lifetime you witnessed 13 cross the Bridge and you grieved with us for every one of them.

As you got older you developed arthritis and eventually you could barely get around. When you started having problems with incontinence you became a nervous wreck because it bothered you so. It was time to let you go, something that was very hard for us to do. The day you crossed the Bridge you did not go alone. It was the worse day of our lives because we not only had to let you go, but Lady too. She was so very sick and couldn’t go on anymore. Even in the end you looked after the others, because Lady was blind and you helped her cross–forever the caregiver. We cried so hard that day and still grieve in our hearts, you were a very exceptional girl. You were such a help and a comfort to us.

We miss your gentle ways and watchful eyes, but know you are still watching over everybody on the other side–just waiting for us to come. Rest comfortably, sweet baby, you have no more worries and no more tears to shed. We’ll be together again some day.

 

You were so little when you found me. You wandered onto my front porch all by yourself, not another cat in sight. I checked with all the neighbors and nobody had a kitten that was missing. So, I adopted you. You were about 2-3 weeks old; which was scary for me because I had no experience with kittens that young. The vet said I would need to bottle feed you for a while because you were too young to eat. We sure bonded during those many feedings.

You grew up actually thinking I was your mother. You slept on my pillow every night; suckling on my hair and licking my neck and face, all the time purring away. I used to get annoyed with you because it was hard for me to get any sleep. You did that for almost ten years and I have to admit I wish you were still doing it, I wouldn’t be annoyed—–

You were a very handsome boy; sleek, muscular, quick and with gorgeous green eyes–my mini panther. Although you wouldn’t hurt a fly, you gained the respect of the dogs, if they got too close you would slap them and were so quick about it that you were on your third slap before they even realized you hit them once!

It was hard to watch you as you developed kidney disease. I did all I could but finally you just refused to eat. I tried feeding you any and everything and it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t eat. You rapidly started losing weight and you clung to me because you knew something was wrong. Sadly, it was time. When you crossed the Bridge a big part of me went with you. You were my baby and we shared a bond that I will never forget. I think of you every night, because that was our special time. We’ll have that time together again,
be at peace until then.

 

When we got you,at the age of 8 weeks, you took to Ginger, a beagle we had at the time. You spent your life life never realizing you were a cat, for many years you two were inseparable. And boy, could you talk! You were the most vocal cat we ever had. You were always sickly but determined to fight it. You had allergies and respiratory problems. It never seemed to bother you, but it took years off our lives!! By the time you were 2 years old you’d been through all of your nine lives and then some. Our vet told us you’d never live to see 4 years old. Well, with your spunk, our love and a combination of medications; we proved that wrong. You did so well for 14 years and eventually actually outgrew the allergies.

Unfortunately in your last few months you developed diabetes. You still fought like a tiger and we did all we could. You were insulin resistant and we just couldn’t get it under control. You never quit fighting but we couldn’t watch you suffer. From the day we got you, you never gave up on anything, your will to live was so strong–we loved you and admired you, and we weren’t going
to let you lose your dignity.

We’ll never forget the day you crossed the Bridge–we have never seen such a peaceful look as the one you had and we know we did the right thing. You are healthy again and don’t have to fight anymore. Be happy, you are with your beloved Ginger again. Until we meet again——–

 

You were such a timid little girl, and so afraid of people. When you wandered into our yard in the dead of winter you couldn’t have been but about 2 months old. It was too cold for such a young kitten to be outside and alone. We started to feed you but you wouldn’t even come out to eat until after we went back in the house.

All through the winter and into the spring; we played that game. Finally after about 6 months, you came out from hiding but wouldn’t let us near you, We watched you grow and so wanted to bring you inside.

Finally, you let us come near, you even talked in a very quiet voice–that’s when we named you. Eventually you let us touch you and even pet you. Soon, you were watching for us to bring your food. We were so happy, because you started to trust. Soon you let us hold you and you loved to be petted and talked to. We took you to the vet to have you checked and spayed. That’s when we learned the devastating news; you were FIV positive. The vet said the most humane thing to do was to let you go. That was a very agonizing decision after the many months of getting you to trust us. We did the right thing for you, but it hurt us deeply and that decision still haunts us to this day.

We truly never meant to hurt you, we just wanted to give you a loving home. We are so terribly sorry you never got to enjoy a good life. We carry the guilt of losing you and feel as though we betrayed you. We know you are in a better place and are not suffering. Please wait for us at the Bridge and don’t be afraid anymore, we love you dearly.

 

You were the first dog that belonged to only me. You came to me at a very difficult time in my life and we went through a lot together over the years.

You were so sweet, gentle, patient and full of love. You were always there with big sloppy kisses when I needed them the most, you always seemed to sense just when. My “Cockle Doodles” as I called you. We had 15 years together and a lot of beautiful memories. You will live in my heart forever.
I’ll see you again at the Bridge.