He was 6 days old and fit in the palm of my hand, with room to spare, when I first saw him. Six weeks later I brought him home. Being my first Yorkshire Terrier, Pasha was, in my husband’s words, a “hairball.”

He was my dog; he ate and slept with me and followed me everywhere. He played with our cat, Michiye (Mee-Chee, that’s another story), and loved to chase the little birds on the beach at the ocean. As with all Yorkies, he knew he was a Great Dane, and nothing scared him. He was our “point man” when we hiked the foothills around Mt Ranier.

As he got older, he would go to bed promptly at 8:30 pm. He would walk to the bedroom door, turn, and give me that “Aren’t you coming to bed now?” look.

Pasha lived to be 14 years old and then had to be put down due to an unfortunate accident. I held my baby while the vet gave him the injection that ended his life. That was 6 years ago, and I still cry, as I’m doing now, when I think of that wonderful little dog.

We now have Beau, a Toy Poodle, (in the picture with Pasha) and Bear, another Yorkie. Dogs, and cats, enrich our lives so very much and bring us joy. All they ask of us is food, shelter, and an abundance of love.

Pat from WA

Found our beloved penny, a chow retriever mix, we think, tied to the fence of the local animal shelter. first look into t
those huge loving eyes were all we needed. she was part of home for almost 9 years until we brought her in to be checked because her eating was off. four days later she was gone. cancer took her but not before the surgery and waiting for biopsy reports. in the meantime she needed 4 tranfusions but continue to bleed out. i continue to cry because i feel i betrayed her. i was the one who led her into the operating area where she would never return the same again. hubby and i are in bereavement therpy, hope it will get better soon. tks for this corner that lets me vent.

Helen from NY

I only wish my story could be as positive as the others posted here but sadly it’s not. Even now it causes terrible pain and regret to tell you what happened to my beloved Shepard, Nick.

My ex-wife was a proclaimed “animal lover”. Indeed she was a horse woman and ultimately loved her horses more than me. But that is for the psychiatrists to analyze. She conned me into buying her a 20 acre horse farm in Vermont and once settled there she served me with divorced papers. I should have brought Nick back to New Jersey with me, he was my dog before we married, but felt that he might be happier living on the farm than being stuck at home in New Jersey while I was at work all day slaving to send her alimaony. He was a healthy 10 year old and I wanted what I believed best for him. During the divorced, in simoly an act of evil, my ex-wife had him put to sleep. There was nothing medically wrong with him. She used him as a means of inflicting pain on me. She told me after the fact, making up some bogus excuse for doing this. I was crushed. Had she stabbed me in the heart with a knife it would not have caused more pain. I wept reading your book Mark but wept more remembering my best friend Nick and how he trusted me and how I let him down.

Vin from NJ

i listen to your show as much as i can. When i first heard your story about your dog, i had to turn the radio off because i just couldnt handle it. I had to put my best friend to sleep as well. I will give you a bit of backround. I picked up Nastasha “Stoshie” as a puppy. She was badly abused at only a few weeks old. The people that i picked her up from had her and the rest of the litter in a kiddie pool all covered in their own urine and feces. When i picked up the dog, the woman wanted to know if i wanted a paper bag to put the dog in to take it home. I kindly refused and took her home in the palms of my hands.

She was relaxed almost as soon as i got her home. She would fall asleep with her head in my boots all the time. I guess the smell of a friend relaxed her. She slept with me till she was too big and was definately my best friend. Stoshie helped me get through some VERY tough times in my life. I never had her on a leash or in a collar (i didnt need to) she was by my side no matter where we went. She was ALWAYS happy to see me no matter what kind of day i had. Well i noticed one day that she was having trouble breathing. I took her to my vet (who i trust to no end) and he told me that she had an enlarged heart. She had been to other vets in the past for other health issues and they gave her 1 year at the most to live. This visit was about 4 years after that ordeal.
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I met my wife at our 20 year high school reunion. We were both single and 40 when we met one another. She had a 10 year old Cockapoo named Jesse, who was hand fed his dinner; had is feet wife before re-entering the house on rainy days; nipped at her heels if she forgot a treat when she left each day for work, or if he didn’t get one ‘before bed’.
I knew I had my work cut out for me to take his place.

We were set to be married after 2 years but found out that he had bladder cancer. Jesse lived for another 4 month, and I’d grown to love him just as my wife had for 13 years. We made the painstaking decision to end his suffering, and on a rainy, dreary Nov. 13, 1997 we sat with Jesse when the vet administered the medicine that would end his suffering. It took 3 years for my wife to be able or pet another dog. She cannot read these, nor watch an interview with Dr. Levin without crying, even now when our loss of Jesse 10 years ago. I ordered Sprite with the hope that she will be able to read it without too much pain.

Craig from PA

Nine years ago a dog showed up in the neighborhood and moved in under our neighbor’s shed. I would sneak her food and water much to my husbands’ discouragement. One day he noted that the water bowl was pushed back under the chain link fence. He realized she was smart. He challenged me, “If you can get that dog in our backyard, you can keep her.” I walked around to the neighbor’s yard and said, “Come on baby, let’s go home.” She followed me into the back yard and never left. She was filthy, and full of worms including heartworms. We took her to the vet and they healed her. We named her Poko. It is a Hopi Indian word that means- animal who does things for you., and she has done just that. She reminds us every day how fragile life is. She is about 12yrs now and we dread the day.

Denise from MO