I have read your book and it brought tears to my eyes. I can definitely relate to your book. I thought I was strange with the way I talk and feel about my dog, Daffy. My husband and I adopted her from a shelter and she is the light of my life, my in-laws don’t understand that she is my baby. We don’t have kids yet and when I talk about her I talk like she is my little girl. We plan trips that she can go on with us, she loves to swim so we go to the beach together. I always had dogs growing up and it is the hardest thing in the world when you have to make that decision to put them down, they take a piece of your heart with them. It doesn’t get easier but not having a dog in your life is like not having air.

Stefanie from NY

I just wanted to give my sympathy to the Levin family. I read about Sprite and cried through most of the book. Less than a year ago, we lost our girl Misty. We took her in when her previous owner had passed on. She was up there in years, we think around 10 when she came to live with us. In our time with us she was attacked by a porcupine and had to have surgery to remove quills from the roof of her mouth. She went totally blind. And she was so trusting of me that she would run next to me as long as I called her name so she could hear where to go. She had partial paralyzation in her face and wasn’t able to blink so we had to giver her eye drops every day so her eyes wouldn’t dry up. She also ended up with an abcess from a tooth that fractured. But through all of her problems she was the sweetest dog with no complaints.

I struggle to this day with wondering if we should have put her down but she didn’t seem to be suffering. She died in her sleep the day after we got back from a week of camping with her. I thank God she got that last vacation and that she was able to die at home. I agree that the pain will never go away, just become more tolerable. We have since adopted another dog from the shelter and he is helping to heal the pain. Thank you Mark for sharing your story. She was a mix of Husky and German Shepherd. Unfortunately my digital photo program is not working so I can’t share a picture of her.

Kristine from WI

I knew Penny for a year. She was my true friend. She was remarkable. In that time she touched me with a kind of love, compassion, tenderness and joy that I had not experienced in my life. She exasperated me with her passion for raising hell and getting into serious trouble. She knew how to get me mad and yet she was forgivable. She played me like a fiddle.

Penny was just thirteen years old when I met her. Her energy and enthusiasm disguised her illness and disabilities. I adopted Penny. I saved her from a group home and a prior abusive family.

Yep, I only knew Penny for a year. I chose to adopt her knowing her condition. Knowing the operations she needed would be expensive and knowing that despite the operations the end of her life was near.

Penny was a nut case. She was incorrigible. She was a ball of fire and soft as a pillow all within five minutes. Penny was a hellion and an angel in one body. She helped me understand that friendship is a journey, not a given, and that parenting has more meanings than we can count. She gave me strength. She made me laugh out loud when no one was around and she made me act ridiculously silly. Despite her physical and mental shortcomings she was unconditional and instantaneous in her love for me and in the enthusiasm she had for being alive. I guess it could be called unconditional enthusiasm.

Penny had suffered for most of her life. A genetic eye condition prevented her from seeing very well. An eating disorder made her skinny as a rail. She never complained. She overcame her disabilities. Her hair was always brittle and sparse. Sometimes chunks of her hair would fall out. She didn’t mind. She never really seemed to care what she looked like. I would try and help her look nice, but I could tell it was not a priority for her. She suffered from so many things, including extreme joint deterioration. She could not bend her knees, forcing her to walk funny. Even with her discomfort she loved to play hide and seek or keep away. Sometimes people made fun of her awkwardness. But she didn’t care. Nothing was awkward to Penny. She was free of all prejudice. (more…)

Dear Mr. Levin,

I wanted to thank you for creating this beautiful place where we can come and share the memories of our beloved companions. My dog Zeus was 15 years old and he was the smartest and sweetest little guy I will ever have the priviledge of sharing my life with. I have sent you a picture of him along with his best friend Sable, who died several years ago. They were truly like peas and carrots! My brave little man lost his battle with bone cancer last night, March 31, 2008, at 11:33 pm.

REMEMBER
(In memory of beloved pets who are gone, but not forgotten.)

I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying. You found it hard to sleep.

I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear,
“It’s me, I haven’t left you, I’m well, I’m fine, I’m here.”

I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea,
You were thinking of the many times your hands reached down to me.

I was with you at the shops today. Your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more. (more…)

Mark – Love your program. I am 66 years old and had to “put down” my Jessie yesterday. One of the toughest events in my life. I did get her to 16 1/2 years old. Not bad for a baby dog – a true mutt- rescued just be fore she was to be drowned. I’m devastated. I couldn’t read your book before, because I knew what was coming. I will do it now. I miss her!

Best always
Roger from VA- retired USAF

Dear Mark:
About a week or two ago I submitted a story to your website about our family pet, a Boston terrier named Teakup. Afflicted with Hemolytic Anemia in 2003 this was a dog that without the care of a great vet and lifelong drug therapy would have died five years ago. We had to put him to down today. We had seen him getting weaker and weaker over the past few weeks after a recent fall down a few steps. He fell because he had bone cancer on his right leg, could not support his weight well, and was unable to climb the steps in the usual way because the bone between his knee and ankle had become deformed. My wife blames herself for not carrying him that night, but it would have only allowed him to live a little longer in great pain. The bone cancer had spread to his lungs and was metastasizing in ball sized tumors. Our vet explained that he had only one or two more months to live and while we could give him additional drugs there was no guarantee that it would relieve the pain that would only increase as he neared the end.

Teakup was a dog that despite his own illnesses, and the great pain he had been in recently was always there to greet you when you came home. He was always ready to sit on your lap when you wanted to take a nap, or take a walk if you were so disposed. And he was always ready to lick your face when you were sad or cuddle with you if that was what you needed. We said goodbye for the last time today. It will be odd to not see him searching the house for a spot to lay down where the sun was strong and pouring through the windows. That was his favorite pastime. He was our sunlight and we will miss him very much.

George, Karen and Kristen from NY