Always an animal person but living in apartments, I keep a kitty or two from alocal shelter. A barking dog would be just too hard for nieghbor relations,

One stormy night changed all that when at a job, in ran a muddy dog with no ID.(In an ID requiried entry-point I might add…)

Long story short, no one claimed her. It’s been over a year, and guess who only barks a little….

Someone from that job read your book and sent me a copy. I’ll tuck it away for when I need to read it again someday.

For now, it’s time for nightly fetch …

Kathy from PA

I wanted to Thank
You for writing such a wonderful book. My boyfriend and I adopted our son Ben from our local Humane Society 2 years ago. He is a Corgi mix.
My parents had to put down my dog Sugar Baby that I had since I was in 4th grade. I could not bear the thought of going home and her not being there it broke my heart. We had her for 14 years. I had been begging for a puppy and he thought that it would be easier going home if I had a new puppy to keep my mind off of Sugar. So the next day I got Benjamin Dale.
I think that when you rescue a dog they know that and thank you everyday for it. Ben is so spoiled and truly thinks that he is part Corgi part human. While reading your book I could not help to think about what it will be like when it is time to make the decision of letting him go. It was such a wonderful book and I cried the whole time. I could not put it down and read it all in one day. I still get choked up when I talk about your story and Sprite, or when Ben is outside and gets lost in the breeze like Sprite did.
Ben is a huge part of our lives. He goes to work with Ryan everyday and spends his time listening to Mark Levin and Sean Hannity on XM Radio. Thank You for your wonderful book and for you amazing Talk Show.

Ashley from MO

Cesar was a lovable, shaggy mongrel, part Collie, part Shepard, and part something else that was special — he had a soul.

The boaters, of the family marina, fed and played with him. And he never jumped on kids, knowing that he might scratch or tumble them.

Cesar lived a good life, but in his last year he was deteriorating rapidly. But I didn’t want to put him away, if possible. As long as he didn’t suffer. On his final day I gave him my T-Bone steak; alas he just sniffed it and nibbled a bit, which made me fully aware this might be good-bye.

The next morning we couldn’t find him. We realized, during the previous night, he quietly walked off into the bush, the forest around the property, and peacefully lay down so as not to bother anyone.

My Ojibway-Elder friend, Duke Redbird, of CITY TV said this was a natural way.

Edmund from Ontario

Mark. This Christmas I bought a few dog books for my 11 daughter since she loves to read, and loves dogs. Of course, one of those books was Rescuing Sprite. It took her about 3 days to finish the book and it touched her heart. She then past me the book and insisted I read it. I cried through the whole thing, it was such a beautiful story, and I felt every bit of pain that you have a few years back.

When my husband and I were married, I couldnt wait to get our first dog, and I wanted a Shih-tzu, just like the one I had at home with my parents. Before long, we had 2. Not to long after that they had a liter of 5 pups, and my family members couldnt resisit and adopted the pups, and we kept one. So here we were, a newlywed couple with 3 dogs that were like our children. They went everywhere with us, they traveled to the South with us in 20 hour car trips, and went with us camping a lot! Over the next 10 – 15 years, they shared with us the birth of our three children, new houses, and many ups and downs of family life. They were the best dogs.

When the youngest of the bunch was 11 years old, we noticed he wasnt feeling well, and he started to urinate blood. I took him to the vet who told us, it looked like a bladder infection, or stones. We left him with the Dr for the weekend so they could do Ultrasounds, and other tests, and will call us on Sat to pick him up. Sat came and went and they called us on Sunday to tell us he passed away overnight. Probably due to advance stages ofBladder cancer. Oh the grief I had was unbearable. To think my baby was at a animal hospital, alone, and scared and in pain and I wasnt around. I would of done anything to be with him his final moments to comfort and say goodbye… The other two at home were depressed, they wondered where their baby was, and I couldnt explain. Over time, our hearts healed, but we never forgot, we have his pictures all around the house. (more…)

I’m a volunteer with beagle rescue, an occasional foster parent and adopter of 4 beagles. Chance, Trooper, Hopper and Crimson are my life and my passion. Although you can see us all at www.hanoverbeaglepatrol.com I wanted to tell you about Hopper and Crimson my 2 former fosters that I just had to keep.
Having been a outside dog all of his life Hopper had many challenges. The ringing telephone, the dishwasher, alarm clocks, even the television scared him into a panic I’ve never seen before. Every time I tried to turn the television on he would run outside or hide in the bed upstairs. I felt so bad I went without television for 10 days.

Hopper and Trooper started playing together in the backyard almost from the start. And we slowly got him used to all the household sounds. For four months I took him to the BREW adoption days. Barely any interest at all. Seems as though folks preferred lemon in their tea and not in their beagles. By the fifth adoption day (or the fifth month) I was getting pressured to make him part of the pack. I made a deal, if he got through adoption day then he could come home forever. We arrived at adoption day shortly after noon, one o’clock, two o’clock…no takers. By three o’clock I knew I was going home with another beagle. About 3:30 I pulled the pre-made check from my wallet and signed the paperwork. The house would never be the same again.

He’s really grown in the past 2 years, but we still have some issues. Hopper will no go in the basement, the doorbell still freaks him out and he cries very loud if dad leaves the house and doesn’t take him too. But he is the most loyal of the group and no matter which room I’m in (except the basement) Hopper will be curled up at my side. (more…)

Mark, I want to tell about a remarkable dog I never met or saw in life. She died years before I was born. Peggy was my dad’s childhood friend and my grandmother told me her story. both my grandmother and my dad and others who knew Peggy have died, so I will tell about Peggy. She was a tiny rat terrier(10 lbs or so), white with a black head and ears that stood straight up. She grew up with my dad in rural West Virginia and they were inseperable. He taught her endless tricks and took her everywhere he went. Until the day he left on the train for the Army during WWll. The family (Peggy too) saw my dad off at the train station. As the train vanished into the distance Peggy sat on a railroad tie between the rails staring down the horizon at the dissappearing train. And refused to leave. My grandmother had to carry her home. She instantly ran away and resumed her vigil on the tracks. My grandmother retreived her many times but she always escaped and returned to her railroad tie. Grandma gave up and took food and water to the station. The railroad workers also put out treats for her. Many tried to make friends with her and she ignored them all, waiting for my dad on her railroad tie.

She sat there for days, months, for almost two years until the night she was hit and killed by a train. My grandmother had taken pictures of her on the railroad. they were eerie, spooky black and white images of a tiny dog on a railroad tie in the middle of the tracks. My grandma snapped the pictures from behing Peggy as she stared down the tracks. She did not react in any way to my grandmother, did not move, did not waiver. I could not see her face, just the back of her little black head with ears straight up and straining forward to hear the train. My dad would get choked up whenever he talked about Peggy, even over half a century since she had turned to dust. Once he pulled something out of his pocket to show me. It was one of Peggy’s old collars with a license labeled “Wetzel Co Wva 1936” He had carried the collar for over 5 decades.

Teresa from AZ