Here name is Cheddar, we rescued here from a breeder. She spent the first 4 years of her life in a 10×10 horse stall giving birth to $700 hunting dogs. On her last litter, she spent too long in labor and most of the puppies died, that is when the breeder decided to put her down. That is when she came in to our lives.
She has a good life now. She goes on walks, goes camping, goes to the beach and gets plenty of food. She is never more than 5 feet from my side since we have been together, don’t tell anyone but she even sleeps in our bed. I am sure that she would give her life to protect either me or my wife.

Now she is 12 years old. The last 6 years have taught me much about love and kindness. I will miss her when she is gone and am not looking forward to that day. She is getting slower but still is still doing fine.

I hope all of you have a chance to know a dog as good as my Cheddar, if you already have then you have been blessed.

Thanks for reading my story.

Mike from Oregon

My cat came to school to find me. I treach in a Bronx high school. One day as I was coming in, I saw a kitten who kept running into the building every time the door opened. The security guards would throw him out, but everytime someone opened the door he would run back in. I wasn’t going to take him until the guard said, “The kids will mess with him.” So I got a plastic milk crate and a carton of milk an kept him in it in an office until I could take him home. I figured if he was smart enough to keep trying to get IN school. when the kids were always trying to get OUT, that he had to be my kitty. I had lost a dumpster kitty I’d adopted and had for over twelve years just the year before.

I was going to call him Dusty because he had gotten pretty dusty in the builidng but he wouldn’t answer to it. Like all my cat,s he picked hte name he liked (I guess dusty was not macho enough for him) His name is Nutcase, and he is a really friendly cat. He visits all my neighbors. Give him food and he'[s your friend, but mommy is the only one who gets kissed for it.

Judith from NY

Yesterday, July 15, 2006 our beloved cat Rusty died. We will forever miss her. She was truly one of a kind, and we are grateful for the nearly nine years we spent with her.

Deb, Mike and I spent the night of July 14, 2006, at UCSB, where Mike was registering for Freshman Fall semester. Andy was in Riverside visiting Grammy. A few days ear-lier, on Sunday, July 9, the whole family returned from a 9 day trip to Maui. We think Rusty waited for us to return from Maui, before she went off to sleep.

Our neighbor Lisa last saw Rusty on Friday evening at about 6 PM, when she fed Rusty. In the morning when Lisa returned to feed Rusty breakfast she noticed the litter box was used during the night, but Rusty was nowhere to be found. We believe Rusty wan-dered off to a peaceful place to die, the Morning of July 15, 2006.
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Our son Michael was 3 when we adopted “Murphy’s Law”. We call him “Old” Murphy because we’ve since named the new Dog, Murphy as well. His original name was originally “Princeton” but that lasted all but two hours because we’re Naturalized Cuban immigrants and all our relatives that still had accents were mispronouncing his name as ”Clinton” and mans best friend at that time, 1994, was in no way related to Slick Willy!

Old Murph was a nipper terrier, for the uninitiated, a nipper was the original RCA dog, a mutt. We knew Old Murph was the one immediately when we first saw him. We went to a dog breeder in Princeton and we saw about 15 corralled pups all nippers bouncing around, hyper as hell, like Mexican jumping beans. I yelled out the word “sit” and the only one that sat attentively in a sea of uncontrollable terriers was Old Murph. He was calm, cool and collective and without even looking him over twice we all said together “that’s the one”!

Murphy quickly became my son’s best friend and he was more remarkable then we could ever imagine. We never walk him on a leash so became accustomed to following us around everywhere. The kids rode their bike around the block and I felt safe because Old Murph would keep up with them. He never let anyone near them or even raised their voice to them. He became their protector and friend. He was also incredibly independent and we felt comfortable letting him walk out the front door. He never left home or got lost. My in-laws lived around the block and he used to visit them on his own and he’d walk in the back yard and he’d bark at the kitchen window so they’d let him in for a visit to drink coffee and milk and some times toast. When he was done he’d always make it back to the house and wait on the front porch until our car pulled into the driveway or someone let him in the house. He was so smart that the stupid dog tricks were boring compared to all the other things he was able to do.

We’ll never have another dog like Old Murph. He was one of a kind! A Loyal, protective, loving and a real member of the family. He lived 10 years. I can go on about this old friend but that would require a lot more website space and room for pictures but he got very sick the last two years of his life. He had grown week and developed Cancer of the liver. We had him operated a few times but the ulcers kept coming out and he was suffering.

In the end it was the hardest decision my wife and I ever had to make. Everyone knew he was sick. We never told anyone, especially the kids that we had to put him to sleep because they may not have forgiven us. Michael was 13 at the time and Jacky was 17. The news of his death was hard enough and I knew that I would come clean with them at a much later date in the future which has not arrived yet.

Putting Old Murph down was harder than I thought it would be. He was on table looking up at me with his big brown eyes and I just lost it completely. The doctor let me have some time alone to say goodbye. I just hugged him and kissed him and cried. I held his head with the little life that was left. We look into each others eyes and then he was gone. No heart beat and just a frozen stare.

I had him cremated and when I brought him home, we just hugged and kissed that little box with his ashes. Three years later we still cherish that Old Mutt. He taught us how to really love animals. We now have 3 Irish Jack Russell Terriers The mother, The Father and we kept one from the litter before we gave the remaining four to family and friends. The pup is the spitting image of Old Murph and they are the most loved and best cared animals anyone has ever seen. Thanks for writing your book Mark! It’s going to help a lot of people cope. I want to do want you did and burry Old Murph’s ashes under a tree on the front lawn but I don’t know how long I can stand living in New Jersey and Old Murph is coming with us.

Rafael from NJ

This is a “cat story” actually as I have had so many cats in my life, but you said it was okay.

I had one cat who lived to be 17 years old. Poor boy; he had lost most of his teeth and could no longer groom himself. He also had cataracts and couldn’t see. BUT, he could smell my chocolate chip cookies, and if I didn’t watch him, he would “swipe them” from me.

It was a sad day when I finally took him to the vet, knowing it “was time.” The vet let me stay in the room while he administered the shot and then asked if I would like to spend a few minutes with him. I nodded yes, as my eyes were full of tears, and said my “goodbye” to an old friend.

I ordered your book from amazon.com the other day and I’m sure I and my husband will read it with pleasure and sadness.

We don’t get your program “live” so listen every weekday evening from 9:00 to 11:00 p.m. We wouldn’t miss it! I am glad to see this “softer side” of Mark Levin, as well as your outrages at what our government is doing to us!

With love,
Mary from CT

Cocoa was a miniature chocolate poodle. His name suited his color – hence the name given to him by my husband. He was my friend for 13 years. He was an indoor dog and even had his own dog door so he could go outside whenever he wanted to in order to chase squirrels, chipmunks, or rabbits. However, the only thing he ever caught was a huge turtle – lol. It was his prize and he brought it in the house with his pompom tail held high – so proud that he’d finally caught something.

He had many rubber toys to play with but had several favorites – a red boot and a pink poodle. We’d play chase with him all over the house.
After my husband and I parted company Cocoa began sleeping in the bed with me. We’d go to sleep back to back and wake up nose to nose. His regular bedtime was 10:00 P.M., come rain or shine. Daylight Savings Time blew his mind, especially when we went OFF Daylight Time. Promptly at 9:00 he’d leave the den and go down the hall to bed. If I didn’t come to bed soon he’d come down the hall and peer in the den and give me a dirty look, as if to say, “Where in Sam Hill are YOU”?

In his 12th. year he developed a disease called histoplasmosis. Our veterinarian did everything he could to cure him to to no avail. He got sicker and sicker. At first I’d take him to the vets once a week for treatment, then twice, and on until it was everyday. One day when I took him in Dr. Nall was standing at the receptionist desk. He just looked at me and I burst into tears. We talked and I said that I was waiting for him to tell me I should put Cocoa to sleep, but I knew now that he wasn’t going to do it, because if he did, and I took his advice, and then I was sorry, I’d blame him. I also told him that I’d been selfish because I wanted to keep Cocoa, and I knew I should let him go. The doctor told me to go to work, and let him know my decision when I picked him up that evening. He also said he knew how much Cocoa meant to me. That afternoon I told the doctor I’d bring him in the next morning to be put down.

In my anguish and sadness I took Cocoa home for his last night on earth. It wasn’t a pretty evening. Cocoa’s breathing became labored, then he’d breathe normally for awhile. This went on for hours. At exactly at 10:00 P.M. (his regular bedtime) Cocoa breathed his last breath lying next to me on the couch. It was as though he was saying, “NO, you’re not going to put me to sleep, I’ll do it myself”.
The next day my son and I buried Cocoa in the backyard. We made a tombstone for him with his name, birthday, and the day he died on it. I had cried so much in the last year for him, I’m not sure I had any tears left.

Epilogue: A year later I sold my house and moved to a condo. I had reason to call Alabama Power Company. I talked to a nice lady about my problem. After we conducted the business I’d called for, she said, “Do you remember that house you sold in Cagaba heights”? I told her “yes”. She then told me that she and her husband had bought that house, and had wondered all that time what pet was buried in the backyard. I told her about Cocoa. She said that I could come over anytime I wanted to visit Cocoa’s grave – although I never did. My memories of Cocoa are in my heart. She also told me that his grave was a selling point in them buying my house, thinking that anyone who would bury their pet in their backyard surely were good people.
Cocoa died in 1978, and I don’t think about him everyday, but I still miss him, and I still love him.

Nancy from Alabama