Elvis was my Baby Sunshine and my shadow for almost 11 years.  His companionship was pure joy from the moment I held him as a puppy.  He was a sensitive soul whose expressive eyes could melt a heart.  Elvis was a big time Momma’s boy.  He was protective of me even on the day he died.
This photo captures his personality.  He enjoyed teasing us with his toys. His favorite toy was a squeaky ball.  He loved it even to the point of keeping it in his mouth while doing his numbers!
I miss him so much.  There will never be another Elvis.  He was truly special and deeply loved.

— Linda from Ft. Smith, AR

There is a dog room and a cat room. The dog room contains stalls and cages built into the walls along with large, wheeled fourplexes for the young and the small. Also in the dog room is an endless peal of barking, howling and scratching. The cat room is more like the section in the old Woolworth’s where they sold the goldfish and parakeets. Basically there are aquaria but with grillwork instead of glass and within the grillwork are tiny mewling bits of fluff, at this time all nameless. Little cards describe them briefly with a guess at their breed and a good estimate of their age which is given in weeks or months. In a dog cage in the cat room there was one enormous middle-aged creature who had already enjoyed a breadth of life far beyond what his cave-cat ancestors could have expected. His name was Arthur.

With the coloring and dimensions of a healthy penguin Arthur was an old man on the pediatric ward. Unlike the youngsters he already had a name and a history on his cage card. It was related so; Arthur’s family added a human baby and they did not feel they could any longer give him the attention he requires. Loosely translated this means that Arthur WAS the baby until an actual baby made its coming plain. Do not disdain the people who named Arthur then turned him in to the authorities after eight years as the receptacle for their love. Housecats can and do kill babies, ignorantly seeking their little chests as a warm place to sit. But however wise or just the change it is unlikely that it was explained to Arthur’s satisfaction.

He was skittish, released into the playroom he dashed for what little cover there was. Even the lady who fed him every day couldn’t coax him out, instead he cried as if he were trapped in a well. Sought, he fled and would only be drawn out with patience but in the open he was a sight to see; twenty-two pounds of turgid muscle, tuxedo style and dandruff. “Oh, you’re playing with my big boy!” the lady observed. Doesn’t he get into the room much? “People bring him out to meet all the time but somehow they never do the deal. He’s been here the longest of all of them now.” And you know what that means. So, although I had little inclination to replace The Rat, a long-haired night hunter who had finagled his freedom by urinating on me in my sleep, I decided that this was Arthur’s lucky day. I was the governor and called in a reprieve.

They give you a cardboard carrier for a cat. Arthur stepped right through it so they gave me a big, plastic dog carrier. He seemed well suited to high-rise living. Unlike his predecessor who had been the parking lot king at my old apartment, Arthur showed no desire to learn of the outside world. It was enough to watch the occasional flock of pigeons tear past the windows. The tiny dogs across the hall terrified him although he never saw them.

Arthur loved company, girls especially, but hated commotion. He liked to play in his water but mostly he loved to sit on a human being and press his snaggle tooth across some virgin flesh. He was often alone. I’m not at home much. When I had been away for a few days he always wanted attention more than anything else. Only once did he ever really complain. After I had been gone for a while and came through the door he came out from his hide and walked glumly to his food dish rather than to me. He looked over his shoulder and let out one, disdainful, weary hiss but it was nothing some canned food and a long shoulder massage couldn’t paper over.

Some months ago he quit eating and took up barfing but it seemed to pass. Then he lost weight dramatically, deteriorated and finally needed some real medical attention. He was treated with great competence and obvious humanity at the vet hospital down the street and proved to be something of a curiosity. They never could come up with a full diagnosis but the prognosis was another matter. Fluid drained from his puffy carcass returned in a matter of days so any serious improvement was not in the cards.

The end was not bitter. Arthur got a half hour or so of the one thing he ever craved: attention. He must have gotten used to needles in the last five days as he seemed to not feel this last one. He purred and purred, more quietly and yet more quietly. I thought it was over when his head slumped down on the stainless steel but no. As I tried to close his eyes he looked up at me and licked his lips with the nibbling sound, tucked his feet under and settled in for a nap.

— Ken from Atlanta, GA

Every night for many years, my dog Betty and I would take our two mile exercise walk at 4 pm pst.    One reason the walk would happen at this time was so I could listen to the MLS, uninterrupted.  Many times I would be tugging on Betty’s collar (a 13″ Beagle) to hurry it up.  She always wanted to stop and sniff.  Mark, there were too many times to mention that you would start talking about your dogs and your loss during these times.  It would make me stop, hug my dog, and appreciate what she was trying to tell me to do.   Slow down.  Today I had to put her down.  God Bless you Mark.

— David from Vancouver, WA

When we rescued our Anatolian Shepherd, Bear, we already had Dolly a MinPin.  From day one Dolly made it very clear to Bear that she was the boss of the house.  They got along peacefully and Bear was always respectful of Dolly\’s superior status.  Bear had a huge chew bone that weighed almost as much as Dolly, but that did not stop Dolly from trying to claim it as her own.  Finally, Bear took the bone outside and hid it.  It is unusual for an Anatolian to be so submissive since they are a dominant breed but we always wondered if Bear was aware that little Dolly had a very bad heart condition.  Her heart finally gave out, but up till the last she was her little MinPin self ruling the roost.  She passed away suddenly in my arms and we burried her in the flower bed near our back door.  The next day I witnessed something that was truly amazing.  I saw Bear coming across the lawn carrying his big chew bone that had been hidden.  He walked right to Dollys grave, placed the bone on the grave , and began a vigil that lasted the rest of the day.  I know it was his tribute to his little friend.

— Deb from McPherson, KS

Diamond was 9 years old when I married my second wife.  She and her Sister Emerald had belonged to my new wife since they were kittens.  All during the engagement Diamond shied away from me.

Returning from our honeymoon, the first night Diamond showed her anger at the new guy in the house by promptly leaking on MY side of the bed in the middle of the night.

The third night, she did the same and my bride asked if I wanted to give her to a friend.  I declined, deciding that I was going to make friends with this felonious feline if it was the last thing I did.

I took a year and a half, but one day, Diamond decided that I was her human and jumped up in my lap while we watched TV.  From that day on we were inseparable.  Each night, as soon as I turned out the lights to go to sleep, Diamond jumped up on the bed beside my pillow and spent the night.

Several years later, while recovering from major surgery she didn’t leave my side except to eat and use the litter box.
One night, about 8 3 years after my surgery, Diamond didn’t come to bed with me and I went downstairs to see if she was OK, and halfway afraid that her advanced age had caught up with her.  She was on the arm of the couch and mewled, glad to see me.   I took her up stairs and the next three nights the same thing happened.  Then, she seemed to recover and for a few weeks was pretty much back to normal.

Then, about a month later things started to change. Diamond didn’t come up to the bedroom anymore, prefering to sleep on the arm of the leather couch. Finally, noticing a decrease in weight and energy, I took her to the vet. Renal failure was the diagnosis and he prescribed medications and a special renal diet. Diamond didn’t get better though, then one morning she was more listless than usual and I knew it was time.

I took her back to the vet, my heart breaking and informed him of what I wanted done what I knew had to be done though I hated doing it. Diamond breathed her last with me beside her, petting her and I know that she knew that I would be with her to the end.

That night I cried like I hadn’t cried for years, In fact, not since my first wife passed away.  Diamond was special, very, very special and in this case, a boy’s best friend.

— George from McAllen, TX

Freckles woke up a new world everyday.  She was full of life and loved all the she came in contact with.  She was a girls girl with her dainty body and flirtatous ways.  She was 5 lbs. of love.  She developed a mass cell tumor in her sixth year.  Lost her leg and never changed.  The cancer spread and unknown to her bumps made it hard to pet her as we humans knew what it meant.  We put her down with broken hearts to save her the misery we knew would come.  She did not escape all suffering but bounced back and gave us hope for her that did not come to passl  I believe she waits in Heaven and I look forward to the day we meet again.

— Liz from Sunnyvale, TX