My daughter had a dog she picked up at the pound, His name was Ryes, (reese). As you can see, a gangly dog with a personality that was almost human, so it seemed. My daughter moved out, and I inherited Ryes. It always amazed me, I would pull in the driveway, everyday, there he was, smiling. Yep, smiling, a ear to ear smile. I was so heart warming to come home to a empty house, except for Ryes. Ryes and Riley, my other, older dog, every morning when I would get up, let them out, and they would head to the river for their morning stretch. As i would be about ready to head to work, I would look toward the river and they would be on their way back. One saturday morning, they went the other way. Ryes was hit by a car. I could never understand why they went the other way that morning. the only solice I can come up with to this day, is that I gave Ryes the best 8 months of his short life. I do live out in the country, room for the dogs to roam. I am sure some would say that I should have kept them in a fence or tied up. But what life is that. The fact that Ryes lost his life on my watch is something I will bear for the rest of my life. As I picked him up, prepared to bury him, and then on through the following week, all I could think was, if this is this hard, to lose a dog, how on earth can a parent lose a child. It was simply unbearable. As I listened to your show, and your relations with your dogs, and taking time off the show to tend to your dogs and their situations, I could truly relate. I could understand that it was not just me, there are others out there that have the same feelings toward their dogs and pets also. I am 51, I never really let much in the way of death effect me too much, animals, people. But this one, I think made me human, humbled me. When I die, go to Heaven, and see the Lord, the only question I will have, is where is Ryes.

— Brett from Wenatchee, WA