My wife, daughter and I had a shepherd / sheepdog mix for thirteen wonderful years. Gretyl was the runt of her litter – I think the runts of litters make great dogs – and she gave us years of nothing but love and the pleasure of her company. Among other things, Gretyl endured years of being dressed up in nightgowns by our daughter and her friends. And all the kids in the neighborhood loved to see Gretyl when we would walk her around the block and they all wanted to stop and pet her. In her later years, Gretyl graciously tolerated the indignity of having to allow two cats to be brought into her house. Gretyl loved all kinds of “people food” but she really loved cookies and could hear the cookie jar open even when she was sleeping. One night, we knew there was a big problem when we offered her a cookie – putting it under her nose and she didn’t even lick it. Sadly, we lost her that night to a severe heart problem. We had to make the decision to put her down and I couldn’t even look at the doctor when we had to sign the papers. When I lay down on the floor to comfort Gretyl in her last moments, I looked into her eyes and I swear that she looked back at me as if to say “its OK, I’ll be alright. It’s my time”. That moment is seared in my mind and will be forever, even though it was 15 years ago and as I write this I have tears in my eyes. The tears are for the heartache of the final moments, but I also know they are because we had thirteen years of Gretyl sharing herself with my family. Now my wife and I have an eleven year old dog named Bear (who still thinks she’s a puppy) but she’s another story for another time. Thanks Mark, for your book.

Mark from NJ

Enjoy your show through Podcast here in Liberal land Canada. You and Rush are my sanity. Your story of Sprite touched me.

I would be described by most as a strong Conservative, tough guy, gruff in nature, loyal to a fault, a no nonsense man. At the age of thirteen, I had the worst day of my life. Some friends and I were playing boot hockey on a freshly frozen pond. A half hour into the game, a friend approached me, frantic, and said that he had seen my long time companion and best friend, Clarence Estavan the Third, my basset hound, fall through a hole in the ice. We as a collective ran to the area. With the ice being as thin as it was, we witnessed the horror of my friend’s struggle for his life. We could see him swimming, tapping his nose to the ice in his desperate search for air.
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First Mark, we want to thank you for welcoming us to come forward as a family Saturday night at your book signing. We are the family whose dog Mocha-Java passed away last Sunday at home. Your words and compassion meant a lot.
Mocha was rescued at North Shore Animal League

when he was around 3 months old. He, like Sprite was an amazing dog. He protected our family and gave us so much unconditional love. He touched the lives of family, friends and neighbors who felt an immediate bond with him. He never left the property when out on the front lawn unless we did and said to him it was ok. If I was outside gardening in the front yard I NEVER was afraid that someone would approach our property. He was right there watching over me.
About a month ago, Mocha stopped eating while my husband had to go upstate for two funerals. I wasn’t too worried about it because sometimes he did this. The day after my husband came home we noticed he was dehydrated. We called our vet and got the 24 hour emergency service directing to bring him in. We chose to treat him at home, my husband being a physician and myself a registered nurse. We gave him two liters of I.V. fluids that our vet said saved him. The next morning we brought him in for blood work and found out he was in kidney and liver failure. We got that corrected but the one test that was done was this rare blood disorder called

AHA, autoimmune hemolytic anemia. His blood count was critically low. Working with his vet, we kept him home where we know Mocha would want to be. For two weeks we gave him steroids, vitamin B shots, medication for his stomach and cooked him chicken and hamburger just so he would eat. His back legs were weak and he had difficulty standing so going outside was a chore. Going up the stairs were impossible so he slept downstairs on the second level several nights.
The morning Mocha died, my husband for some reason carried him upstairs to our bedroom. He heard him moving around during the night and was up with him every hour. Mocha made his way out to the hall way and Joe put his bed underneath him. He was breathing deeply, but not in any distress or pain. It was 4:00 am when he passed. My husband woke me immediately.

My week has been painful. I walk through my front door and his nose is not coming around to greet me. He’s not at my bedside for his scratch good night. I keep looking at his water bowl thinking I have to fill it. I think I have to be careful not to step on him at the foot of the bed in the morning. The loss of my dog is so painful that there hasn’t been a day I haven’t cried.

I never thought I could love an animal so much, but since losing and loving him I look at people and life so differently.
Mark, thank you for listening and for sharing your story of Sprite and Pepsi. I do enjoy your show and wish there were more Mark & Sean’s in the world. It would be a happier place.
May God Bless You.

Renee from New York

Her name was Ami (Amy); she was an Alaskan Malamute, and I loved her so. I still do and always will.

Ami came into my life a little over 11 years ago when she was 10 weeks old. About this time last year, Ami was diagnosed with lymphoma. I was devastated. The veterinarian told us that though lymphoma was not curable, it is the most treatable form of cancer, but she could not promise more than about six months; 12 to 18 months was possible. At some point, the lymphoma would come back with a vengeance, and Ami would begin to wither away. In addition to six to 18 extra months that I would have her, the only other good news was that lymphoma is painless. The worst news was that I would have to eventually make the decision to put her to sleep. All in all, there really was no decision as to whether we would try chemotherapy; of course we would, and we did.

Ami responded very well to the treatments, and within a few weeks, Ami’s lymphoma went into remission. Her treatments went on for several months, and though she experienced some nausea and diarrhea, with the help of other medicines, this was minimal. Otherwise, Ami seemed healthy and in good spirits. She seemed normal, but we knew the real story and dreaded what we knew would come.

Sometime around March of this year, Ami’s treatments were over, but in a very short six weeks, I once again felt the swollen lymph nodes. The vet confirmed the return of the lymphoma and recommended another round of chemo. Again Ami responded well, and again the lymphoma quickly went into remission. The treatment continued for several more months with the same results as before. When I wondered why we could not just continue the treatments indefinitely, the vet said that Ami’s body would not be able to stand the medicine indefinitely and that the lymphoma would eventually return anyway. I continued to live with the fact that I would eventually have to put her to sleep, and I dreaded it throughout every day.

About six or eight weeks ago, the vet said we should change the chemo drug, as the one she was using would weaken Ami’s heart and she could suffer heart failure. The alternative drug was better and would not have this effect. This was a bit of a surprise to me, as the vet had not told us this before. I wondered why we hadn’t started with the better drug. Though I never really asked that question and the vet never volunteered that information, I presume it was because the other drug was much more expensive. That didn’t matter; of course we would switch. Again Ami responded well, and the treatments continued.

I left for work on the morning of October 29, thirteen days ago. In the evening, I returned home with no thought that anything was wrong. My wife met me in the yard crying. I thought of all the things that could be wrong, but not a single thought of Ami, as I thought she would live until I made the decision to put her to sleep. An hour or two before I got home from work on the 29th, Ami probably suffered a stroke, and it was over. Only a day or two before, I thought quietly to myself that I would rather Ami go naturally and that I could be relieved of the burden of putting her to sleep. Perhaps the way she died was Ami’s final gift to me or perhaps a gift from God so that I would not have to suffer the agony of an inevitable decision.

I don’t think I’ve ever loved a dog more than Ami. Ami was my constant companion, and I took her everywhere that I was allowed to take her. Though she was a typical Malamute in that she was never a lap dog and never liked a lot of petting and hugging, she was never far from me, always within a few feet.

With a very few brief periods, I’ve had a dog all my life, but I don’t think I’ll have another; at least that is the way I feel right now. Ami was more than a dog to me; she was my love, and I will miss her the rest of my life. If this seems silly to anyone, then they really don’t understand and have never experienced the great bond and love between one of God’s greatest gifts and mankind.

Jerry from VA

I almost stopped reading your book when I saw Pepsi’s name. My old girl Cairn Terrier’s mom was Pepsi-Cola. Zoe’s full name is Zoe Squirt McDufus. Zoe is 13 1/2 years old. You did the right thing with Sprite, however hard it was. And, giving Griffen a life is honoring Sprite even more than you will know. By the way, I really think you are right that Griffen is a Cairn Terrier mix. It’s all in the eyes! Bless you and your family.

Paula in Colorado with Zoe Squirt McDufus going strong, and the rescue Houston, aka Huey, also a Cairn Terrier

Paula from CO

Mark: More than likely, due to the vast numbers of dog lovers out there who have read your latest book, my post will get lost. No matter. It is comforting to me to just write a fellow member of this wonderful “club” of people who treat their dogs as members of their family. Two years ago I had to let my minature Schnauzer, Harley, go. I have never taken on a more difficult or sorrow filled task. Harley was with me for 12 years and even now, I find myself crying at night, a time when most of us have our guards down. I have been embarrassed to admit that I had a harder time with her death than that of my brother’s several years ago. I just wanted to share something with you that a wise lady told me after the death of Harley. She told me to talk to her – out loud. And so I did – and I do. It has helped….some. The memories of our “furry children” stay with us forever and they become a part of our soul. I had thoughts of not getting another dog after this loss, but a friend of mine said, “why would you deny any dog the kind of love you have to give them?” And so, Wrigley, who was on “death row” for being a “biter” has found a permanent place in our home and hearts. After a few months of love, security and regular meals, Wrigley has become a “love machine”…..and once again my husband and I find ourselves in the throes of exquisite joy and abounding love…daily. We wouldn’t have it any other way. I loved your book. You can tell Sprite hello for me…when you next talk with him. I’m happy to introduce you to the new love in my life, Wrigley, whose photo is attached.

Vicky from GA