With profound sadness, I had to euthanize our beloved Princess on 7/7/13.  Princess was a Shih Tzu and only 13 months old. We had her for a little less than a year. However, she was a complete joy and smart. She learned to be house broken in about two weeks. She was smart, adorable, playful and followed me everywhere.  If my wife went left and I went right she was always behind me. My wife jokingly called her my shadow.  I always found it amazing that if I entered a different room in the house, she would wait by the door until I invited her into the room. Unlike other dogs I had that just entered.

After several months, she began having episodes where her hind legs failed her. She would get nervous and start shaking when these episodes occurred. On Thanksgiving 2012, I rushed her to the emergency pet hospital. She underwent 3 days of hospitalization, but all diagnostic testing such as tests for toxins, blood work, liver tests and more showed nothing wrong. Over the next six months, she had several more episodes and each time I sought different vets and nothing was ever found. One vet even refused to believe there was a problem. So I took a video of her on a typical day showing she was fine and then another during one such episode where her hind legs failed her and showed it to the vet.  To cut this story short, on 7/4/13, she had another episode. This time it looked like she was breathing under stress. We were laying down on the floor watching television and she got up and put her head on my hand. That was my signal that something was wrong. So I rushed her to the animal hospital in NYC. An MRI showed that the part of the brain which controls motor control was dead. She became blind and loss use of all limbs. At that moment I knew it was time to let her go. My wife and I visited her and she looked tired. On that last day, I put her head in my hand and stroked her telling her it was ok while the doctor administered the lethal dosage to put her down. She went quietly. The doctors still have no idea why her brain tissue was dying. I consented to an autopsy of her and asked that the results be published in an effort to help other dogs in the future. We loved our Princess dearly.

— Robert from New York, NY

Pete came into my life when I was about 6 years of age, in 1995. I got to name him, and since he was a stubborn little fat pup, Peter it was, then changed to Pete. He had been found by friends of the family on the side of the road, barely able to be away from his mom, so they gave him to us.

He was fattened up by them and he was the fattest little dog you ever saw, just waddling around. He was adorable. All the way home he was in his little cardboard box trying to get out so I was the one to calm him down.

He had a great life, he loved to run around. He was a pit/lab mix and the friendliest dog, and a great protector too. My family was away from the house and the front door hadn’t been latched the whole way, so it was swinging open. Our neighbor came over to shut the door, but Pete was right in the doorway and gave them a low warning growl to not come any closer. He didn’t move until we got home. Pete was the type to bolt out the door first chance he got too, so it was a real surprise.

I remember being angry at him only one time, I had gotten a stuffed dalmation that I absolutely loved, and we came home and it looked like a couch had exploded with all the fluff that came out of that stuffed animal! And Pete sitting on the couch just thumping his tail all slow with a guilty hang-dog look, knowing he was in trouble.

The day came in 2009 when he was an old dog of 14 years though, with white all around his muzzle and bad arthritis. When he couldn’t really go places happily anymore and started not being able to use the bathroom properly, we knew his quality of life was gone. We made the decision to put him down.

I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. The only pet I’ve known for 14 years, this poor, vegetarian (he was allergic to meat products in dog food), arthritic dog was the result. He looked so sad just laying on the table, and I remember when they put that needle in, I was petting him and just crying so hard because I didn’t want to let him go. I didn’t want my little Pete to not be there when I got home from work. I wanted to just scoop him up and take him away so he didn’t have to die. But I knew that it was best for him as he was in so much pain. But it wasn’t best for me, that’s for sure.

He was so still after they did it. He didn’t wag his tail or whine. He didn’t breathe anymore. In front of me lay my pet of 14 years and I felt like I just killed him myself. This shell of a dog lay before me and I’d never seen him be so still. I cried for two days after that. I still have his collar and his name tag on my keychain.

Even though there was so much pain with his passing, I would do it all over again because he was such a special dog. He wasn’t the perfect dog, nor the worst dog. He was my little Petey-boy, and he’ll always have a special place to me.

I told myself that I’d never get another dog, but I know eventually I will, because the joy of loving overshadows the pain of passing.

— Brynna from Rockford, IL

About 6 years ago we rescued an older adult dog (Vicki the Canaan Dog), and she quickly became part of the family. During that time she survived two surgeries on her skin, one cancerous, the other not. She survived both nicely. About two months ago she got very sick very fast.Vicki got a salivary gland infection and her lymph system failed. Sadly we had to put her down.  We think Vicki may have been about 14YO. It broke our hearts. Going out the next week, “just looking” we came across Gracie the Cattle Dog. When we brought her out of her kennel to meet her, she jumped up on the bench beside me, lay down and put her head on my lap! Game over! We took her home that nite and it’s almost like we always had her! Thank GOD for dogs!

— Andrew from Hauppauge, NY

Back in December of 2012, I decided to get a cat as a companion since I live alone. Long story short, I decided to rescue a cat from a local shelter I found on the internet. I was attracted to a little guy that had a hard start to life. At about 1 month of age he was found cold and alone and very sick. He was going to be put to sleep because he had such a terrible respiratory infection and his eyes were so infected they had to be removed. Yes, “Timmy” was only about 1 month old , sick and now blind ….When a lady that worked for the Vet saw he was going to be put to sleep, she said.. “I’ll take him and care for him”…. she raised him till he was about 5 months old.

Timmy has been a wonderful addition to my life and has adapted to his blindness so well you would probably not notice if you were not paying attention. He is a true friend, and a very loving and healthy little guy.

I work during the day so thought he may need a companion when I was gone. I adopted another female cat, Sunshine, who also has major visual impairments, nystagmus and corneal scaring and then some… Her story was also sad, a lady saw a man who was going to drowned her and her kittens in a lake and rescued them. It is terrible when people are so cruel, and see no value in life.

They have both become good friends and now have a loving home. I have worked, part of my career with deaf-blind and blind individuals, so have an extra insight in to their special needs… There are many blind and visually impaired cats out there that need adoption. They adapt so well that people should not make this a determining factor on whether to adopt them or not. In fact, you may find their depth of bonding makes it a positive factor.

— Thomas from Delaware, OH

Last Tuesday was a terrible day for Charyl, me and our animal family.  Our wonderful dog, Goliath, a Great Dane, died tragically from a gunshot wound.  He had chased a deer into the woods and never returned.  We’ll never know what actually happened but we know that Goliath was never a threat and was, in fact, very frightened of guns.

Sadly, we recovered his body and buried him by the fence line near the barn where he spent so much time with us.  Through our tears, we remembered all of the special times we had with him.

When we adopted him nearly a year and a half ago, he was a handful.  At first it was a real challenge.  He had to learn to live with all of our other animals, dogs, cats, horses, even birds and a ferret.  The rule around here is if you want to stay you have to get along.

Goliath, we quickly learned, picked things up fast.  Oh, he always chased cats and growled grumpily at the little dogs, and he loved to bark and chase horses. But he always did these things while wagging his tail.

He quickly learned that getting too close to running horses was dangerous.  If he caught a cat, he merely licked it and set it free, and he would actually let the little dogs push him around.  That’s what he was – a big pushover.

I knew from the beginning that he was a lady’s man; I was merely his buddy while Charyl was gone.  When she went to work he would look dejected and sad, but he would perk up when I went out the barn.  Oh boy, he knew he was going to be able to run with the ponies. Afterwards, he was my companion, lying on a large comforter beside my desk while I wrote.

I must admit that writing with Goliath at my side was sometimes quite a challenge. Oh, it wasn’t because of his size or noise, but because he was frequently gaseous, causing me to take frequent breaks. If I could have heated the house from Goliath’s output, I would be a millionaire.

Often in these situations when the evening weather was nice, I would let him out on the deck.  He would patrol the fenced in yard and notify any unwelcome critters, be they raccoons, possums, or coyotes that his farm was off limits.

Before midnight on Charyl’s work days, he just knew that it was time for her to come home. I would let him out and he would stand by the locked gate waiting.  When I went out to let her in, he was ecstatic, and he would try to climb in the truck to greet her before she could exit.  She would always come in the house with love marks of slobber.

He loved truck rides, playing with his sidekick, Molly (a jack/rat terrier), and just barking at the fence line, always letting the outside world know that Goliath was King of the Farm.

While Charyl loved him at first sight, it took time for him to “grow” on me, but he won me over in quick fashion.  We loved him and we miss him. He will always remain in our hearts.

— James from Hawthorne, FL

About 15 years ago, my mom, son and I moved to Florida. A few months after settling in to our home, two houses in the neighborhood were broken into, the only times in the 25 years of the development that this had happened. When we learned about it, my son looked at me and said “I think it’s time we got another Doberman.” We had shared our lives with several Dobermans over a number of years but the last one had died more than 10 years earlier and since that time we had several smaller dogs, none of whom would be a deterrent to someone trying to break in to your home. My mom was 88 at the time and we were concerned about her being home alone if anyone should try to break in. So we began looking for a Dobe puppy and before long we found her, an 8 week old red little girl that we named Juno. She became our faithful, loving companion and our always devoted watchdog. She grew up with my mom around and learned to be careful and extra gentle when approaching her to be petted. She clearly understood that my mom couldn’t handle being bumped or nudged firmly as she was not that steady on her feet. Junie would go on walks with me at night and I always felt safe. She watched anyone who was walking in our vicinity and would keep her eye on them until they were far enough away that she decided it was alright to turn her attention elsewhere. She loved our cats and would nudge them and lick them when she got the chance. She loved being noticed for her “tricks” and developed her own, like strutting around with a piece of napkin or paper towel in her mouth, or better yet, one of my slippers, and would carry it in her mouth, walking around wagging her little cropped tail and looking at us out of the corner of her eye, as if to say, “I’m bad, look what I’ve got!”

She developed another little trick where she would lay on her dog bed and turn her head so that she was looking at us upside down. We’d laugh and clap our hands, and call her “Upside down Junie” and she clearly loved it, and would do it over and over to get her applause.

She went to Obedience Class as a young 6 month old dog and never forgot the lessons she learned and would always respond instantly until as a very old girl she couldn’t sit comfortably anymore and we no longer asked her to. Last spring she began having some medical problems, but we were able to nurse her through them and she celebrated her 14th birthday. When she slipped on our back porch and hurt her leg, which then swelled up to nearly three times its normal size, we had to carry her outside for about a week, several times a day, and help hold her up so she could to her business. We were able to get the fluid out of her leg, and she was once again walking normally. We were relieved and grateful as we didn’t want to think about losing her. She was soon her old self, just a little slower and we hoped we’d get to her 15th birthday this spring. But in mid November she was slowing down again and we were doing everything we could to keep her going. On Thanksgiving Day, she didn’t want to eat her dinner and I sensed that the end was near, so we did everything to make her comfortable. The next morning I helped her walk out to the back porch and she stood there leaning against me a bit for quite a while just looking around her back yard, and enjoying the sunshine. The neighbor’s dogs were out and she could hear them and smell them. It seemed as if she was enjoying this routine of 14.5 years for the last time. She drank her water and did her business and came back in with me to lay down on her bed. She didn’t want to get up or go out after that, though we tried to encourage her and offered to assist her as we had before. She just wanted to lie there near us, and so we stayed close through the rest of the day. She was still aware and watching us come and go through the house. Later that evening she had stopped lifting her head to follow us with her eyes and I pulled a chair over next to her and sat there petting her and talking to her for quite some time. She seemed to slip into a peaceful sleep and was quiet and then she made a couple of odd noises and opened her mouth widely twice and then she was still. I felt her chest and her heart had stopped. I sat there for a while and let the tears fall as I petted her for the last time.

We haven’t decided yet whether to get another dog, or Dobe.  We know if we do, there will never be another Junie. She was one of a kind, a beloved companion who wanted always to please and loved her people unconditionally. We miss her every day.

— Stephanie from Gainesville, FL