This is a note I wrote my brother some years back when I lost my dachshund Sweetles to cancer in 2004. He wanted to know how she was doing…

” Sweetles reached the end of her struggle against cancer on July 10th.

Her earthly remains, in a position of rest, were creamated on the 11th.

From the onset of symptoms to the inevitable, I had a little less than three months to enjoy her, tend to her, to praise and love her.

There is a hole in my heart that cannot be filled.

The worst part was taking her to the room and holding her as the gift of life left her body.

Before the eager glint in her eye vanished, she was still licking and barking — not as she did in her youth, but with a growing weakness leading to a gruesome end save human intervention — the time to enter heaven chosen, in part, so she would “die with her boots on.”

It was the humane thing to do.

Still, I can’t help thinking that on some level, I killed her even though I know cancer was the cause.

If I had noticed sooner, force fed her a little more or a little less, authorized more proceedures or stopped while we seemed ahead, etc. etc. etc. maybe she would have survived.

Thinking like this can lead to nothing good because where does it end.

This is part of the bargin I suppose.

Parents know they shouldn’t outlive their children.

But as a parent to child that was Sweetles, I knew the day would come to say good bye, no more pain, no more hunger, no more fear — only love and the promise that the Lord willing, we will meet again, renew our friendship and enjoy it forever.

With a very broken heart, I am,

Your brother,

Bob from VA

Let me tell you about “Wolfer”. He was a rust colored Husky, and I always said Huskies should have the name “Polaris” in there somewhere. Why? because it seems that when they would stray away, which is always, their eyes, and their heart point northward toward an ancestral home.
Wolfer was so loved by all in the family. We were always tolerant of his wayward jaunts, and would with worrisome apprehension, set out on a recovery mission.
The last time Wolfer had the opportunity to step away from home, we weren’t so fortunate.
As a rule, our search pattern would take us but a few square blocks from home, and there he would always be—eager to get into the car for the return trip home.
This last day, in the fading light of an Autumn afternoon, we just couldnt find him. I took my daughter home, and resumed the search with a growing sense of anxiety. I went through all the familiar trails, hopeful to find him. I did not.
Then, as I turned toward an uphill road leading out of town, I saw a bundle of rust colored fur lying on the side of the road. I drove on, and turned around, pulling up slowly to where this “thing” was. I got out of my car, and walked forward. As I looked down, I saw that it was Wolfer. He was dead, and I wondered if he had died naturally, or had been the victim of a hit and run driver.As I gathered him up in my arms, a car pulled up and a young man got out. He came to me, and admitted that he was responsible for the death of my lopving, and much loved pet. I assured him that there were no feelings of anger within me, and I accepted his sincere apology.
Then came the ride home with my little buddy lying motionless in the back. I knew my daughter would be even more heartbroken than I was and dreaded the short ride ahead.
By now it was growing dark, and when I pulled into the driveway at home, my daughter came out hurriedly, and asked if I had found our wayward Wolfer. With a tear in my eyes, I simply motioned to the back seat, and asked her to go into the back yard.
I carried Wolfer carefully to the back yard where we laid him to rest on his favorite blanket. Mark, I can not begin to tell you how reduced to a numbed mass of humanityI was as I sat on the steps watching keri cradle Wolfer in her arms, saying nothing, but conveying a lot to me. She sat that way for a full hour, and finally, I told her it was time to put him to rest. We did, and I cried the whole while, remembering all thew times we had had so much fun together. A father, his daughter, and their beloved Wolfer.
We planted flowers above his grave, and to this day some ten years later, when the first warm days of Spring send forth the floral reminders of our wonderful friend, I sit out back and reminisce. My daughter also joins me, and we sit there in silent rembrance.
As apostscript to all this, the father of the young man who hit my pal threatened me with a lawsuit aimed at recovering the cost of repair to damages suffered by his late model Jaguar. I invited him over to discuss the matter more fully, but wisely, he declined,

Thank you Mark for allowing us to share our loss with you and your audience. We are grateful.
Steve and daughter Keri from NJ

How to start
This is a story of not only a animal lover but a father that is missed and a hero to many including me. He was a sheriff for a county in michigan and also a animal control officer AKA dog catcher. He would always smile when he was called that cuz it was by the people that cared enough to retrive there pets from the dog pond and thank him for his care that was given by him to make there pet safe while it was lost.In the year of 1969 he was doing his runs in the back streets of ruel areas in a old beat up truck that would more look like a ice cream truck, a car passed him cuz he was going slow so not to stir up dust.He back off a bit to let thigs clear and as he came up to a farm house he seen a young boy holding his small rust and white begal crying. My dad pulled to the side and asked the what had happened. The shakeng and crying boy told dad that the car ran over pete and didnt stop to help.

My dad looked the pup over. There were no broken bones that he could feel the only blood was a cut on the dogs lip. Dad put his finger in the arm pit of pete a there was a palse he looked in the eye of the pup there were fixed there was a heart beat. Dad figured that the pup was just knock out. He looked at the young boy and ask if he was to bring his dog back to life would he promise to keep him on a leash when he was next to the road. with the tearing eyes and the hope that this strang man was truthful the boy said yes. My dad picked up the dog by the back legs held the neck gave it a shake and the dog started kicking the boy started yelling hes alive hes alive my dad put pete down and he ran to the house.The young boy went to his dog, dad waited to make sure all would be well and then the boys dad came from behind the house and was talking with his son. He seen the fingure point to him and the boys dad started walking over to my dad. Ray the boys dad looked my dad in the eye and said that, the guy over there is god he brought pete back to life Well needless to say the dog was knock out not run over and dad went by that house every day to see if the boy keep his word. Time went by and pete was no longer seen so dad pulled in the drive way and asked about pete. Well pete lived a full life and the boy Steve was in high school ray and dad were good friends for a long time. Dad got out of being a dog catcher and became a full time cop in 74.

He had been a cop since he was 21 and he loved it just like he loved life itself. well ray died in a car crash his wife was alone with a boy that missed his dad and was haveing trouble dealing with life with out his dad. Dad had the night shift and him and nick got a call to that farm house from the mother. Steve was in his room and wouldnt come out. Nick took the mother to another room while dad tried to get steve to answer the door he never did.Dad went thru the door to find the young man dead from a OD. Dad yell out to nick to call a ambalance. nick went outto the car the mother went into the room where dad was giveing cpr. She was crying and looking at my dad as he was working to try to save a life, Nick came in and was trying to get her out and all she could ask was you saved pete now can you save my son. Dad and nick worked on steve but it was to late. Nick went and filled out the report dad stayed with the mother till 8 AM the next day. Before he left the mother told my dad she always heard her son call him god but she said you are no god your a god send.

Yes i know your all thinking was does this have to do with the love of pets. Its not just pets that are loved and missed its the ones that give us love.

My dad died in 2001 of alzimers(if thats the spelling) AFTER GIVEING 41 YEARS OF HIS LIFE TO THE PUBLIC AND PETS What a man what a dad what a husband what a friend. I miss my hand in his i miss his smile and the blue eyes that could calm the waters in the worst storm. Its another year of deer huntng with out you but i still can feel your hand on my shoulder telling me to be true with my shot. I miss you and as long as i remember you, you will always live.

Randy from MI

I had to put my pup Mel to sleep several years ago – he had lymphoma and I chose not to put him thru Chemo – A few months passed and one night he jumped off the couch and barked and looked at me and at that moment I knew what I had to do. The next day my Vet and her Assistant came to my home and we all knelt around him and said our goodbye’s – I had already placed a call to Abbey Glen Pet Cemetary to come and pick up my pup for cremations – the gentleman came within the hour and I helped lift him onto the stretcher and carry him out to the waiting Van….Two weeks later they had a little service for him and we picked up his askes. I could not bare coming into the house where there was not that wet nose to greet me so two months later we adopted our pup “Sam”. Mark, we brought him home into our strange house and it was like he belonged there. Never, ever once have we had to correct anything from him – he is truly a “special ” dog and I can honestly say that when that time comes again ato say goodbye – It will be devastating for me – not that loosing Mel wasn’t – but there is something so different about Sam – it’s like he is almost human. It will be my great pleasure to meet you at Bookends on December 1, 2007.

Prayer from church bulletin (I’m Eastern Orthodox but don’t know if this is-Didn’t save source):
“Hear our prayer , O Lord…For animals that are overworked, underfed and cruelly treated: for all wistful creatures in captivity that beat their wings against bars: for any that are hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry: for all that must be put to death…and for those who deal with them we ask a kind heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words.”

Nadia from MI

This is one of the many dog stories of the several dogs I have had in my life. Believe me there will be a whole herd of dogs waiting for me when I get to that rainbow bridge. This is about my Henry, an English Bulldog we adopted when he was three years old. A friend came up to me at work and said I heard you like bulldogs, I know someone who is trying to get rid of one. I replied “like them I love them” (I had owned two previous to this). She said well he has been abused, I said “I don’t care” she said he was blind in one eye, Once again I replied that I didn’t care. We drove one state over to Nebraska to pick him up. We actually got him from the people who rescued him from his original owner who abused Henry terribly. Seems the original owner filed a lawsuit against the kennel and lost then took his frustrations out on Henry.

The original owner paid $2000.00 for Henry he was of championship bloodlines and a beautiful animal. How anyone could abuse such a docile and loving animal is beyond me! Even the people that rescued Henry had no idea of how to care for an English bulldog one of the sweethearts of the dog world, so laid back and so well behaved, he should have never been kept in a cage, but they had kept him caged most of the time, So much so that an impression the grating on the side of the cage was pressed into the fur on both sides of his hindquarters. (and stayed that way for weeks) I was told when I picked him up, that he probably wouldn’t eat or drink for a couple of days, he would just stand up in the cage, they couldn’t have been more wrong, for one thing I would never put him in a cage. He immediately made himself at home and went to sleep beside me on the couch. It was as if he was always ours, what a wonderful animal with such a gentle disposition for all the evil that had been delivered to him! You would have never known that he had been a victim of abuse, other than being a little timid, and then eventually the head tremors. I figure he sustained injuries that I could never even fathom! We enjoyed four wonderful years with Henry in our lives before he became ill. Seems he had some type of neurological ailment, probably a result of injuries sustained in the first part of his life most likely incurable and would progressively get worse. He got to the point where he couldn’t stand steady enough to eat, so I would hand feed him “dog food sandwiches”. I realized that soon I was going to have to face one of the worst decisions in my life, I realized could not allow his suffering to continue because I couldn’t cope with the loss of him in mine. For two weeks we went on this way, me crying everyday whispering in Henrys ear as I held him in my arms, that we should have had him when he was a puppy that it was so unfair that he was sick and that I loved him and was sorry for all that he had suffered through at the hands of humans that were supposed to take care of him.

Then I made the appointment to end his suffering, and my suffering became so much more intense, I found it hard not to cry 24/7 and was not looking forward to his last visit to the vets office, the last appointment on that fateful Saturday afternoon. I went in the room with him when the final shot was administered because I couldn’t bear the thought of this gentle soul spending his last moments on earth with strangers. As I held him in my arms, tears running down my face (as they are right now as I am writing this) he slipped peacefully away. The whole family was devastated and mourned for weeks. He was a wonderfully loving companion and I still miss him daily. A few months after Henry’s passing my son in law (a terrific young man, was an intern for Fred Thompson) bought me a puppy, another bulldog, we named him Elvis, and as well we have another dog Ophelia that we purchased from the local shelter as a puppy. Which only means that we will be going through this grief all over again when the time comes, but until then we will enjoy the love and companionship of these two wonderful dogs. Not only are they allowed on the furniture, they both sleep in our bed under the covers, and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Leann from TN