I don’t know where to begin except to say I am totally heartbroken and crying as I type this.  this past Wednesday we had to put down our beloved cat, Java.  He had finally succumbed to gastrointestinal cancer.  We had him for 6 1/2 years and he was healthy up until about a year and a half ago.    We don’t know why he got cancer.  He was such a joy and a happy little cat. We rescued him from the street.  I miss him so much and I feel as if I my life will never be the same.  I wanted to share my story with you all and especially Mark Levin because he is so kind to animals and loves them and I knew he would understand my broken heart.  Thank you all for listening.

— Jan from NJ

The first time I saw Stella she was emaciated and frightened.  Her backbone and hip bones could be seen at a distance and she looked more like a prehistoric creature than a dog.  When I would try to approach her, she would cower with her tail between her legs walking sideways and backwards at the same time.  One of her front legs appeared injured as she could only hobble around on three.

Stella was found running down a major highway by a neighbor living near the barn where I board my horse.  Although it was admirable that this neighbor picked up a stray dog, within days it was evident the little dog was, once again, being neglected.  There was something very haunting about Stella.  When she looked at me her eyes were pleading for help.  And every time I left that little dog, I knew she thought her plea had fallen on deaf ears.

On August 10th, the hottest day of the year in 2009 (heat index 109), I found Stella wandering through the barn, no one around, no water, and obviously dehydrated.  I prayed, went to the neighbor, knocked on the door and begged them to let me have or buy her.  I told them she reminded me of my first dog (an honorable lie) and I know it sounded “crazy” but I just had to have her.  So they agreed to sell Stella to me for $100.

When I got in my car with Stella in my arms I cried all the way to the veterinarian.  I know it may sound silly to some, but it was as if the world stopped to shine its light on Stella.  For a moment, all the goodness in the universe joined together to help a little creature of God and blessed and entrusted me with her care.

After Stella’s examination at the vet, it was determined she was underweight, dehydrated, positive for tick-borne illness (her coat had to be shaved for removable of over 100 ticks) and VERY PREGNANT!  Weighing in at only 8.4 pounds, 7 weeks pregnant, I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed.  How was I going to find homes for these pups in today’s economy…I didn’t know.  All I knew was that I was Stella’s keeper no matter what.

After 13 days of staying up through the nights, worried about the delivery, Stella gave birth to 3 males and a female runt weighing-in just over 2 ounces.  Stella never made a sound perhaps because there had never been anyone to heed her cries.  To have been so neglected, she gave her undivided attention to her pups…the only things in life she loved and that loved her back…only to be taken away time and time again.

Since then it’s been determined, by veterinary specialists, she was either a puppy mill dog or the result of a backyard breeder specializing in “designer dogs.“  The only difference in the two is size; however, the conditions are often just as horrific.  There were at least 3 different sires.  She suffers from seizures (controlled with medication) due to exposure to distemper with inadequate vaccinations.  At the age of 2, she had at least 2 to 3 litters.

Her leg is permanently deformed due to constant caging and most days walks on just three legs.  Corrective surgery is not recommended as the benefit does not outweigh the risk.  She was on tranquilizers for 2 years because she is was afraid of everything; the sun, grass, wind, feeding bowls, and, mostly, humans.  My fingers are her “toys“ as the stuffed creatures from the pet shop are foreign and frightening to her.

She tries to lick saliva out of my mouth to let me know she’s thirsty indicating that her only source of moisture was from the mouths of other dogs.  She is still afraid to drink or eat from a bowl.  Puppy mills throw gruel into cages as bowls are too much trouble.  She graduated from an eye dropper to a small cup which I hold for her to drink.  I still hand-feed her every morning and evening as she will not eat on her own due to anorexia.

Stella no longer limits herself to a pillow on the bed all day and night long, as it’s probably the same size as the cage she lived in most of her short life, but walks around the house and yard (supervised) exploring.  And, depending on the day, the sun on her face and the grass at her feet can actually be a good thing.  Stella’s recovery will probably be a process encompassing most of her life.  The only thing I know for sure is that I will be there to encourage every step she takes forward and comfort her every step she takes backwards.  And when all is said and done, I am the lucky one.

— Robin from Wake Forest, NC

We adopted a pound puppy in July of 2009.  He was a mixed breed and about 4 months old at the time of adoption.  Within about a week of the adoption we knew something wasn’t right with his health and during a thorough exam by our vet, we found out he had congenital liver disease.

The vet told us he could live a week, a month, a year or 10 years.  We decided to take our chances.  The past 3 1/2 years were filled with great joy, great anguish and eventually broken hearts as we put him down on December 7 of this year.  His liver finally gave out.

I thought that when we made the decision to adopt him that we were saving his life because of our commitment to him but in reality, he saved my life.

He helped me get through several years of job issues, 2 long periods of unemployment, etc.  He was my best friend and my hero.  He never complained about how he felt, he was always trying to make me feel good, and I will never forget my pal Cooper.  He was an amazing blessing from God and my best friend during a very difficult time in my life.

— Kelly from Austin, TX

My Fried Charlie Brown is an 8 year old boxer. She has probably succeeded in adding 20 years to my life. 8 years ago when I got CB as pup. We named her after my youngest son’s favorite cartoon character. Well somehow CB and I became buddies over the years and she insists on being walked each day rain or shine. Well, during this time period I have managed to drop 51 pounds. I feel better and my wife certainly thinks I look better. When she takes me for a walk it is a time for meditation, prayer, or just enjoying being outside with my friend.

— Kim from Carrollton, TX

My baby Pomapoo, Pepe, was given to me by my sister when we lost our mom to lung cancer.  Pepe is the most loving, loyal little guy.  He is always happy (he wakes up from his naps wagging his tail and wanting to cuddle).  Although nothing can ever fill the void of the loss of my mom, Pepe certainly helps with his on-going unconditional love, which reminds me of my mother’s love for me and my sister.  I can’t imgagine my family without Pepe now.  I am certain God created him just for us.

— Deena from Camarillo, CA

Yesterday, after around 13 years of having a great friend, we had to put our cat Dakota to sleep.  We rescued Dakota back in 2000 at the local Humane Society in Tampa, FL.

I’ll never forget the day that my wife was begging us to get a dog.  We weren’t married yet, but we went down to the local animal shelter on Armenia Ave to see what we could find.  Unexpectedly, we went past the cat cages and there was Dakota rubbing her face all over the cage putting on the charm.  Right there, I saw an instant companion – Or at least I thought I did.

When in the visiting room, I was holding Dakota in my lap saying “Jenny, this is a lap cat.”  Really, Dakota was NOT a lap cat.  At the time, she was extremely scared but I had seen enough charm in her cage that I knew she was friendly.  My wife had a different opinion.   So, needless to say, we didn’t adopt a dog that day (that would be a few years later).  When we got the cat home, she hid under the chair for 3 days.

Slowly, Dakota became adjusted but definitely had some behavior issues and we thought we brought home a nightmare.  So it was off to the vet to get her checked out and see why she was acting like she was in heat.  Surely she was already fixed, right?  WRONG!  The cat was still going into her heat cycle!  So, she got fixed a 2nd time.  I guess only part of her ovaries were removed?  I don’t know but that’s what the vet said.  The Humane Society was shocked but actually felt horrible and reimbursed us for part of the procedure.  After all that, she became a much more balanced (still some minor issues from time to time) cat and really became a sweet companion.

Dakota really didn’t get along with other animals but around 2004 we adopted a Great Pyrenees (Chloe).  I never wrote before about Chloe but we lost Chloe in October of 2010.  Chloe had a heart murmur that eventually took her but she lived a good long life to the age of 11.  Well, when we first brought Chloe into our home, the cat was furious.  But Dakota was able to adjust and get along with the dog the best she ever would and I think they actually had made some kind of bond because every now and then, we found them hanging out in the same room together.

Not too far after Chloe passed on, Dakota started to exhibit some strange neurological behaviors.  The vet thought she might have had a mini stroke but it was apparent that Dakota was becoming arthritic as well.  It seems that this was the slow decline of her longevity.  She was no longer able to jump up without losing her balance and she was beginning to have problems the litter box and upset stomach. Dakota also had a ravaging skin allergy which we were treating her for with Atopica.  So after a period of about a year and a half, and after exhausting all remedies and providing as many comfort stations as I could, it was apparent that she could no longer live a normal life with dignity.

Yesterday, I took Dakota to the vet to see what else we could do but the realization came that really, there was nothing else.  Dakota could no longer tolerate examinations and the medication we gave her was starting to change our relationship with Dakota.  So we made the decision to let her go but I know in my heart of hearts it was the right thing to do and we did everything we could to make Dakota as comfortable as possible.  I guess Dakota could have kept going as she never quite lost her appetite but her digestive problems were the most significant concern and I could no longer stand to see her straining.

Just a few weeks ago, for the first time ever, Dakota actually laid in my lap and became my “lap cat.”  Dakota, we will always miss you.

— Pat from Fleming Island, FL