The day I ventured to look his way. Those big brown eyes and wagging tail of excitement stole my heart away from the moment I saw him. I had to have him. He brightened my world from the very beginning…At 7 weeks of age, he and his brother were ready to take on the world, as Jack Russells that was a tall order. You see, Jack Russells are a very special breed, and they know it. Known as the biggest dog there is in a small body. Weighing in at 29 pounds, there wasn’t a Pit Bull, Doberman, or Shepherd he wasn’t ready to take on. Bred for hunting by an Englishman by the name of Reverend Jack Russell, they were created with the tenacity of the fighting pit bull, and the intelligence and perseverance of the beagle, all wrapped up in one tight ball of force. Patch was first in the litter, Wishbone last, and their personalities reflected such that he was the older brother, reserved, proud, regal, and protective of his younger brother, Wishbone, and even me, his dad. He was in his mind, the leader of the pack.

Once arriving in their new homes, they quickly set the perimeters, and code of expectations. As the evening wore into the night, they climbed to my chest, one to the left, and one to the right. Like children, I could hear their hearts beat full of life, waiting for the next moment to chase something, or just play catch with the tennis ball. I had many dogs over the years, but none like this. My researched showed an ability of cognitive thinking only known to one other dog, the Border Collie, and an IQ equivalent to a 5 year old child. They soon became my closest friend, confidante, and bearer of all my secrets for it was they, and only they that gave love unconditionally.

As life is, difficult to say the least, I always had Patch there to count on no matter what. He loved me through the bad, the ugly, and the happy times. No matter what, if I was not there, at the door he sat and waited for the sound of the exhaust, ready to be the first to greet me, and smother me with kisses, he and his brother coming at me all at once. That moment, all my troubles from the day, left my mind, for they had quickly erased them from my mind, and showed me what really mattered, and what was important, a treasure to behold, for it was precious, and now I have learned temporary too.

I can’t begin to list the joys, the successes, and the trials too, that we faced along the way, those 15 years of routines, and habits, that made it all worth it. His need to always be closest to me, touching me when he slept in the bed, arm over me, and many times, when I opened my eyes, there he was looking right at me or was it right through me. Either one, I knew he loved me no matter what, with all my faults, and good traits too. That’s the meaning of unconditional love, so desperately needed in today’s society. What runs through the mind today is so many things, so many times, and so many moments. I remember after the plane went in above my head in 9/11, and as I picked my self up off the ground, I had to find away to communicate to doggy day care, I was alive, and watch out for the “boys”. I think about the trust fund set up for their care if anything ever happened too many. It was the least I could do for 2 beings that loved me unconditionally everyday and night, and asked in return that I love them too. I remember the 10 spinal fusions, the bodycast, the loneliness it brought, and the kissing and licking of my face when I came home from the hospital. The many days in lying in bed with them at my side making the days bearable. I remember all the walks, the times they scared me to death after they waited patiently day in and out, for that one moment to escape and give the chase of my life worrying to death about a passing car in the chase. I remember all the rides in the trucks and cars, by my side, sometimes asleep on my lap after the vet.

Patch was such a well mannered, regally sculptured being, proud when he walked and even when he sat. He trusted me and not many others. He was and his brother too, always had this keen ability of knowing who was good, and who they didn’t want near me. So many times they fought over being the closest, on my lap, and in the bed, too many times to count. I loved the way he looked at his brother when he would try and steal his food, as if to say, no problem, Dad will give me more. I must say, I have yet to meet someone of his caliber, the truth, the honor, the loyalty, and the love, all wrapped up in one, never failing. Always prayed with them each night, and thanked God for the angels he bestowed upon me. They taught me so much about people, ourselves, the type of love to seek, and what not to chase. We had our moments of terror too, quickly avoided with the mad dash to Dr. Goodnow, every time with Wishbone on my lap waiting for him to recover. The two, you see were inseparable, never apart, so when the “vet” stay was needed, we made sure we knew when the visiting hours were. One day of absence, was enough but 2 Wishbone would start to make known his displeasure, as would Patch in reverse. 15 years seems like a lifetime, each day, and every day, but I assure you, it is not. Your heart hurts so bad, you can’t sleep, can’t eat, and forget about thinking. Quite simply, if you loved your best friend as he loved you, you are simply a huge mess.

I can remember the hiking in the mountains, them diving into the waves to pull out the huge Horseshow crabs on the beach, the simple mornings and evenings cuddled up against each other between my legs, on the couch as we hunkered down for another day in the rat race. I remember watching his 2nd generation brother together in the movie “my Dog Skip’, and me hugging them with tears, and telling them they had to live forever. I remember all the lunches made for doggy day care, the toys, the coats, and the Coach collars, nothing but the best for my best friends in the world. Certainly God’s angels bestowed upon me, only temporarily, but me never believing anything but forever. I remember the snow and the swimming pool too. The rides on the pool raft, and the chasing of those tennis balls too. Everyday filled with adventured, me always wondering what the night would bring. I remember the nights when they refused to sleep in their own queen sized bed, instead, having to be in the other bedroom too, with my other half. I remember the times when some tried to force me to make a choice, and without hesitation, it was goodbye, and let’s start over boys…

There are so many stories to be told, too many for the small number of pages here, for they were my life, my kids, and my best, best friends, so perhaps another day, in another way, I will attempt to cover everything they conveyed. For now I will just say, it was the last adventure we sought, finally our dream come true, the beaches, and the sun everyday. The new home, the new life, and the happy weather all year, so we could take advantage of the remaining years left. For life along the way does as it always does, leave scars from battles, aches and pains too, for age is never kind to the things we still want to do. So we began the project, and started to pack. We were headed out of here, last winter we will see. For now my boys and I were going to make the most of what was left. The national project I worked on for over a year, was now coming into fold, the partners, and investors too. The place was perfect, everything all planned precisely, so nothing could go wrong. I believed as I have always, I covered everything.

Unfortunately, 2 weeks before we were going to leave, Patch fell to the ground, and as usual I rushed in carrying him out the door, and to the vet for another miracle once again. We waited in the waiting room, as the X-rays came back, the doctor this time, came out slowly, with a look of distress.

Both Wishbone and I said it couldn’t be so, not our Patch, NO, NO, NO! The doctor called us in, and with the pictures on the screen, and he said, “he may have cancer here in his hip”. No, No, No, not my Patch. Something is wrong, it just can’t be. Go back in the files, and take another look see. Away we went home that day, and waited for his real Doc, Dr. Goodnow to follow up. As the days past, the tears got heavier as did the heart. I now gave Patch the prescribed Ramidyl medication produced by Pfizer, to alleviate the arthritic pain as such. This time, I did as I had never, I didn’t go and research the drug as I did always before. Day 3 came, and no call, the tears were all day now, but Patch didn’t fall. On day four, the phone rang, it was the doctor, as I took a deep breath, and he began talk about everything but Patch. While he spoke, my mind wondered off, “what about my Patch, what about my Patch”. Finally I interrupted, and said, What about my Patch? Oh don’t worry about Patch, it isn’t cancer, and he will live a lot longer, to play a lot more. My heart felt suddenly into a prayer of grace. I picked up Patch, hugs and kisses for all. I won another battle once and for all!

Our excitement grew as the days came near, but then something strange seemed to occur. I continued with the med as told, Ramidyl, as recommended and prescribed. Patch at times seemed to swagger, and possibly fall. I was told don’t worry, it would take time. So I continued to carry him in and out, up and down, and into and out of the bed each as called. Wishbone too, started to hang his head low; while I hurried it all hoping the warm weather would take care of it all…

With the vehicle all set, the magnificent beds made, in the back seats, and front passenger too. The boys would be comfortable like kings all the way down. Each night, a planned stay at the nicest motel would occur, for nothing but the best for my boys, they deserved it all. The trip went well, and even at times, driving in the night, I felt Patch’s eyes fixed upon me, and when I turned on the interior light, I found this to be true. The look of all looks, just looking at me, and saying I love, or was he worried. Was he worried for me, worried for his brother, if he was not here? Was he wondering who would protect all 3 of us? Would I be able to handle his loss, would I collapse to my knees and poor Wishbone too? Was he wondering and saying I cannot leave yet, they both just aren’t ready for it yet. I decided to pull over once again, to get another night rest. It was 1:30 am, and hoped we wouldn’t be turned away because of some rule calling them dogs not allowed. Tired, I stumbled in, the manager was a woman, and looked wide awake. I said to her, ‘Mam, we are tired, us all, my 2 Jack Russells, and I, and we need a place to sleep for the night. At that moment I believed it was God, for she pulled out her cell phone and low and behold, she said, I have 2, myself, and they look just like yours. We spoke a long time, as all proud Jack Russell owners do, and then the boys opened the door, and she went to the floor, lots of hugs and kisses for all. We talked and talked, and finally to the room to retire. The boys had a blast, 2 queen size beds, and a bath. Feeling like movie stars as always was the case, whenever they were in public.

Finally, we arrived, that evening, the Realtor at the door. Our excitement was too great to measure, for finally we were here. Our dreams come true. The beach, the war weather, the better way of living.. As we were shown around, almost shock to my dismay, what’s that on the floor all along the walls, we asked. I have my 2 buddy’s and they cannot fall prey to some poison left out in such disarray.. ”Oh no”’ said the Realtor, just sand, nothing to worry about at all…”These are my babies you know, my best friends of all!”… “No worry at all” said the Realtor

In we went, the Boys all excited, checking every room, and following me about. I saw such happiness in both of them, and realized what this was all about. It was for them too, their best years would be now be enjoyed, no more snow, no more cold winters. Everyday would be a dog day summer. The night grew later, but the excitement too.. As I went from the car in the new garage to inside with their blankets in hand, I saw Patch and Wishbone too out and about…The excitement was rising, so off we went to the Supermarket, to gather up our celebration breakfast for in the morning, to celebrate and thank God for his blessing. For a moment I thought I saw Patch where he shouldn’t.

It was now late, the bed all made, the “boys” real excited, because that is most important to them to sleep. So together we all went, to bed for the night, to prepare for tomorrow, and celebrate with that promised walk on the beach, the very first day. It was late into the night, suddenly the cries rang out, held in my arms as we slept, like always, Patch cried, and shook…I jumped awake, with him in my arms, held tightly, I could see him crying, and gasp for air. I said, “I love Patch, hold on, be strong”, We rushed and rushed with Patch wrapped in towels to the closest Animal hospital, with Patch’s head shaking violently, I cried, as did Wishbone too. Finally in the hospital, we sat; the vet rushed in the catheter, and ran the tests. I was already decided, we will keep him here today, on IV, get him whatever he needs, he is our life. Then I called his Doctor in New York too. I had them all on the phone. Another miracle indeed was needed, no expense mattered. This was my rock, my foundation. My true example of motivation and symbol of strength, and everything that was right.

The test results came back, and the doctor was dumbfounded and confused. Something he never saw before, it just didn’t make sense, until I research what Ramidyl has been doing to thousands. It was too late. I held him in my arms, and we prayed. I begged God for everything, in return I even offered me to bear the weight of all the world’s sins, when I die, but NO. NO. NO. NO. Not now, we were going to walk on the beach today, and set up the house, and go for a walk, and then lie in bed, and just love each other unconditionally. Unfortunately, it was too late, as I held my “bitty bum” in my arms, and said “I love you more than there are stars in the sky’, please don’t leave me just yet”. He did as Patch always did, he licked away my tears as I cried, and soon then fell asleep.

I will never get over you my beloved Patch, you were my life, you were my strength when I couldn’t go on, and you were my symbol of what is right and all that is wrong. You taught me love comes before anything else, you taught me love is unyielding, never absent, never betraying, always loyal, unconditional, and what it takes to make the world right. You taught me to never compromise my values, we are who we are, be proud, strong, and fight to the death when it is worth fighting for. You taught me how to understand why things are so screwed up now, and why it is so dangerous having those, who lead our country now. You made me realize these people do not believe what we believe, do not feel what we feel, and do not act as we do, with others, and with this true, they act without conscience, without guilt, and certainly without remorse.

I now understand what is meant by the perfect Manchurian Candidate. That puppet must not feel what we do, he must not believe what we do, and he must not feel what we do. I understand the grooming had to be without the “home country’, the family values and morals, as well as the belief in God and each other. I understand now the need to groom a generation without the above was the most important agenda of all, in order to fixate them on a false prophet, and forget about our faith, founders, and Constitution.

Yes, my beloved Patch, you taught me all that. Though the pain is immeasurable from your loss, it has brought me to my knees, and caused me even to question. Wishbone too, cries every night on his side of the bed too, waiting still for the vet to let you come home soon. It will take time, and love, I am sure you knew, to watch over your brother once the fight was ended. You will remain in our hearts forever, your ashes in a blessed Urn; will be with us too, until that day we all join up again in God’s heaven, to live without all the pains we shared here. Let it be known that is written, your ashes as well as Wishbone’s will follow me too, into my very casket for the trip into the blue. I feel robbed, and even angered, for the stealing away of my best friend, and the best night of our new life, and adventures. But today, the 6th day, I must recover, for what must go forward, was motivated by you and Wishbone’s never quit attitudes. You kept me going all those years, after all the surgeries, and the crisis, your unconditional love, and never quit attitude. It was your attributes and qualities that fight until the death personality that is borne into the battle we will soon face, to save our country, and our beliefs. I know there will be much I have missed, when I walk away from this, the 15 years was as fulfilled as it could it have been, but now with you gone, there is so much more I wish we had done anyway. “I love you, bitty bum”, more there are stars in the heavens, always, God Bless You…..Wishbone too…

— Ricki from Navarre, FL

The following story is an excerpt for a web page of the website we created as a memorial for our little boy. His name was Blaze. You can read the whole story and see pictures and videos of Blaze at www.blazetribute.com

I guess you can consider this web page a continuation of the web page entitled “The Story of Blaze”. And for me, it is the hardest story I will ever have to put into written words. It is the story of the last 17 days of Blaze’s life. My family and I just finished living this period in time a little over a week ago, (as of this writing) and it was one of the hardest events my wife and I have had to face in our fifteen years of marriage. Every day was an emotional roller coaster. Every day was filled with hope and fear. Every day brought new questions and decisions that needed to be made. And every day brought new financial challenges. So as you can imagine, reliving this period of time all over again by writing this web page was not easy, but for us, it needed to be done. We felt compelled to tell anyone who is interested in the story of the effort to bring Blaze home and how the emotions generated by this valiant effort overflowed to the doctors and technicians caring for him. Therefore, let me take a deep breath and with a heavy heart I bring to you, “the last 17 days”.

Day 1 (The day of surgery):
Assuming you have read “The Story of Blaze” you know by now that Blaze was definitively diagnosed with a Portosystemic Shunt (aka: a Liver Shunt). After talking to the doctors, and doing some of our own research we learned that the survival rate of the surgical procedure using an ameroid constrictor for dogs in Blaze’s known physical condition was listed at about 95%. We thought that’s pretty good odds, considering if we did nothing, his chances of survival were almost zero. You simply cannot have blood coming for the digestive organs and being returned to other organs such as the heart, lungs, and brain without being filtered of toxins by the liver. Blaze was put on the medication, Lactulose, about 10 days before surgery. While on this medication, all his server symptoms seemed to dissipate. We were cautioned by the vets that the apparent improvement of Blaze’s condition by the Lactulose was not a cure. This was backed up by the research we did on our own. We were just trying to get him in the best physical condition we could before the surgery.

Now, I must admit that during the pre-surgical meeting my wife and I had with the surgeon, for a moment I was tempted to reconsider the procedure. Surgeries and their inherent risk scare the hell out of me. I thought to myself, “Why don’t we just wait and see how he does continuing on the Lactulose?” But then I thought that if I procrastinated on this and something bad happened, I would never forgive myself. The thought of finances also came into play here. I was concerned that subconsciously I might have wanted to hold off on the surgery due to the cost. A $20.00 bottle of Lactulose (about a month’s supply) sounded much better than a $3,500.00 – $4,000.00 surgical procedure. Ultimately, I never expressed these apprehensive concerns with my wife (or anyone else for that matter). I came to the conclusion that the surgery was low risk and was Blaze’s best chance of living a longer, healthier life. Therefore, the decision to have the surgery was made. It’s a go! Little did I know that a few minutes later my wife would have her own moment of apprehension. It was the moment they carried him into the operating room. They brought him out into the hallway for us to see him. She told me that the look she saw in his eyes was that of not understanding why we were doing this. Now many people may chalk this up to pet owner guilt, but I have come to learn not to underestimate my wife’s ability to communicate and understand feelings without the spoken word. She is the most empathic person I know.

We both sat nervously in the waiting room during the surgery. It took longer than expected, but when it was done everything seemed to go fine. They let us into the recovery room to visit him. He was still under the effects of the anesthesia, but we were relieved that all went well and we were thrilled to see him. After our visit in the recovery room, my wife and I went home and returned that evening during visiting hours. He was still very sleepy but all seemed to be going well and we enjoyed our visit. We left the hospital that evening looking forward to taking our little boy home soon.

Day 2 (The last good day):
Day two was really uneventful. My wife went to the hospital during visiting hours and really enjoyed her visit. By this time Blaze was recovering for the effects from the anesthesia and was definitely aware of her presence. He saw her and wagged his tail. She picked him up and held him in her arms for over two hours. I unfortunately was not there this time. I was taking a class for a new field of business that I wanted to pursue. All seemed to be going as planned, and we were planning on taking Blaze home the next day; and I knew my wife would be there, so I didn’t give it a second thought. As it turns out, I regret the decision to go to class that evening because unbeknownst to any of us, tomorrow Blaze will suffer a setback he would never recover from.

Day 3: (The first bad day):
Day three was planned to be a busy day for me. My job had me scheduled for a service call that would take all day. After leaving my office, I stopped at Home Depot for some supplies. It was then that my cell phone rang; it was my wife. I could hear in her voice that she was crying and immediately I went into “alarm mode”. “What’s wrong?”, I asked. She told me that Blaze’s doctor just called and informed her that Blaze had a seizure. I immediately diverted my route to meet my wife at her office. Once there, she explained that the doctor had stopped the seizure by administering anti-seizure medication. When we arrived at the hospital later that day, we learned the name of the medications used was the anti-seizure medication Keppra, and to reduce brain activity, the anesthetic, Propofol.

After seeing him on this visit, he did not look too much different from the last time I saw him (remember, I did not see him the day before). I also knew that seizures were a known possible complication after this surgery and the doctors seemed to get right on the problem. I was hopeful that this was a minor setback and the worst case scenario was a few more unexpected days in the hospital. However, this was not to be the case.

Day 4:
Day four brought some concern to us. One of Blaze’s doctors made the decision to try to ever-so-slightly reduce the dosage of Propofol to see how well he would do. The doctors observed small movements in his legs and / or paws that they determined were signs of another seizure. They immediately increased the Propofol back to the original dosage and stopped the seizure.

Day 5:
Day five was relatively uneventful. It was a Saturday and we were at the hospital most of the day to visit Blaze every chance we could get into the ICU to see him.

Day 6 (The wakeup call):
Every morning since Blaze was in the hospital, my wife would wake up and call there between 5:30AM and 6:00AM for an update on his condition. This morning’s update was different from all others. The doctor attending to Blaze told her that he was having problems breathing and that they put him in an oxygen cubical. We got out of bed, and fifteen minutes later we were on the road back to the hospital.

When we arrived, I was very alarmed at what I saw and the report we received. They explained that he was having trouble breathing. Seeing him in the oxygen cubical, I noticed that his breathing was very labored. My wife’s self defense mechanism kicked in. I noticed that though she was very concerned; see did not seem to “hear” what the doctor was telling her. She didn’t seem to understand how serious the situation was at this moment and I didn’t know how much to push the topic. Later that day we received a call from the hospital informing us that they had to insert a breathing tube into Blaze to protect his airway and if necessary, help him breath by assisted means.

When we returned for or next visit that day, we were introduced to Dr. Patterson. She is the critical care doctor at the Animal Special Center of Yonkers, NY (the hospital where Blaze was). Dr. Patterson had two unpleasant tasks to undertake with us that day. One was to explain to us that Blaze was in very critical condition, he had pneumonia and his life was in imminent danger. Two was to explain that from this point on, because of Blaze’s extremely fragile condition, he was going to need a dedicated technician around the clock to monitor his vital sign and intervene if necessary to help him breath, and that additional test were going to be needed to monitor his condition (such as x-rays). This of course was not planned in the expense of the original procedure and we did not have pet medical insurance. We only discussed the expenses for the next two days and they were staggering but we had hoped that this level of care was only going to last two days. It didn’t matter. Both my wife and I were far from giving up at this point and we were on the same page. We will take on the addition expenses and proceed with whatever treatment and care Blaze needed to get better and come home.

At this time I would like to pause the story to make one quick personal note. Out of all the doctors and technician that treated Blaze at the Animal Specialty Center of Yonkers, New York I chose to mention one by name. The reason for this is that this is a rather long web page and I do not pride myself as being a writer. I did not want distract the reader by jumping back and forth between names. However, my wife and I feel that Dr. Patterson’s expertise, professionalism, and compassion for her patients and their owners far exceeds that of your typical veterinarian. In fact, it was this compassion that helped my family and me through the last two days of Blaze’s life. Yes, Dr. Patterson is far more than a vet in our eyes, and my family owes her a debt of gratitude. To read more about the very special staff at the Animal Specialty Center in Yonkers, NY, please visit the web page entitled, “Special Thanks to The Animal Specialty Center of Yonkers, New York” by clicking here.

Day 7 to Day 13:
I am not going to bore you with the details of the next seven days other than to say it was a roller coaster of emotions. Generally speaking, Blaze’s physical condition seemed to improve ever-so-slightly with each passing day, but I do mean slightly. There was just one thing that concerned me that I was not mentioning to my wife because I did want to minimize the hope she felt with each apparent improvement. Blaze was not waking up. At one point within these seven days the doctors started very gradually reducing the anesthetic they were giving Blaze and I didn’t notice a significant change in his level of awareness. Ever-so-often, he would have eye movements and sometimes he would even move slightly, but nothing that in my mind I would consider significant.

Day thirteen was a Sunday. It started like any other day, my wife called the hospital at about her normal time and they gave us an update that was very similar to the morning update we received in the past few days. Later that morning, we hopped in the car for our morning ride to the hospital. When we arrived Dr. Patterson met us in the waiting room. (Did you ever get the feeling that something wasn’t quite right?) Well, she explained to us that Blaze was having some activity since we spoke to them last, but they were not sure if it was another seizure or if he was beginning to wake up. She said that she was interested to see if he would respond to our voices, so she immediately brought us into the ICU. As we entered the ICU, I was stunned at what I saw. It looked like every doctor and technician was intently watching Blaze and his vital sign monitor. It was then that I realized that Blaze was no longer just another patient at this hospital. It seemed like the whole staff became his cheering squad; but, I didn’t know whether to be enthusiastic or petrified by this sight. As we rounded the corner to Blaze’s ICU cage, my wife went directly to him (I always let her go first) and I looked at the monitor displaying his vital signs. Again, I was stunned at what I saw. His heart rate was up at 200 beats per minute. In the past we were told that they would like to see a rate between 90 and 150 beats per minute for a dog his size. During his stay, I had never seen it this high. When my wife finally looked at the monitor, she looked up at me and without saying a word I knew what she was thinking. Dr Patterson informed us that one tale-tale sign of a seizure could be an increase in body temperature. I happen to know that a dog’s normal temperature can vary around 100.5 to 102.5. Blaze’s temperature was solid at about 101.0 for the past few days, but now it was at 101.9, still within normal range, but it caught my attention. We remained in the ICU talking to Blaze and trying to get a response from him. Then, after about 20 minutes, Dr. Patterson asked us to leave because she wanted to work on Blaze. As we left for the waiting room, I looked at the vital sign monitor; his temperature went up to 205.5 in 20 minutes. We were not in the waiting room long before Dr. Patterson came out and verified our worst fears; Blaze had another seizure. Our hearts sank.

Day 14:
Day fourteen was fairly uneventful. There were some events and discussions with the doctors on how to proceed with Blaze’s treatment but in the interest of trying to keep the story on this web page shorter than “Gone With The Wind” there is no need to elaborate on them as they were not that significant.

Day 15: (Another ray of hope)
Day fifteen was a Tuesday. At first it seemed like it would be a normal day. I was at work in my office and my wife was at the hospital visiting Blaze on her lunch hour, like she had done every day. That is when I received a phone call from her. She told me that she was in front of Blaze’s cage in the ICU and he was “looking at her.” I almost dropped the phone. I was elated! I wanted to leave the office immediately and see for myself (but I couldn’t). All day I waited with anticipation to see him. When we finally got off work we went straight over to the hospital together. When they let us into the ICU, I must admit I was disappointed. Blaze didn’t seem to improve nearly as much as I had pictured in my head, judging by my wife’s phone call earlier in the day. Later that evening, she did tell me that he seemed a little more alert when she was there earlier in the day. Again, not do dampen her hopes, I didn’t mention my disappointment.

Day 16 (The beginning of the end):
Day sixteen, like every other day started the same way, my wife’s early morning phone call for her morning status report; there was nothing new to report on his condition as compared to the night before, and off to work we went. I was in Manhattan on a service call that day and I also had my class to go to that evening. Since everything seemed “status quo” with Blaze, I planned on attending the class that night. Then, my cell phone rang. It was my wife calling after her daily lunch time visit with Blaze. Again she was crying, and I tried to psychologically prepare myself for what was coming next. She said that Dr. Patterson had a talk to her during the visit. She expressed concerned with Blaze’s lack of progress and with how this whole ordeal was effecting our family both emotionally and financially. She recommended an MRI of the brain be done on Blaze in an effort to perhaps get a better prognosis on his condition. Now, MRI’s are expensive tests. I cannot discuss the details of the financial arrangements that the Animal Specialty Center of Yonkers proposed that day for the test, but let’s just say they made it possible to have the test done and give us the information we needed to proceed with Blaze and our lives, and for that I will be eternally grateful to them.

The MRI was scheduled later that day and my wife was going to discuss the results with Dr. Patterson when she returned to the hospital after work. There was no way I was going to let my wife go through this alone, so I skipped class that evening and headed home to be with her.

Driving to the hospital that evening, we were trying to prepare ourselves for whatever the news may be. Basically, if the results were good, then we continued down the road we were on. If, however, the results were bad, then it would be time for us to consider ending this long battle. We both entered the hospital with our hearts in our throat. Though a promising MRI result meant our lives would remain on hold, more emotional anguish, and more financial hardships, this was the outcome we were praying for; we were ready and willing to accept all of it.

Dr. Patterson led us to an examining room to discuss the results of the test. Looking at the pictures, I saw a couple of small highlighted areas on Blaze’s brain. As it turns out, size is not the only issue here; location could be just as, if not more important than size. As Dr. Patterson was talking, I almost got the impression that the MRI results were inconclusive, and that we were right back where we started. But as she continued it became evident that she was telling us that Blaze’s new prognosis was not good.

After our consultation with Dr. Patterson, my wife and I went into the ICU to visit Blaze. My wife and I could not believe what we both saw. Blaze’s physical condition appeared much worse than it did even a few hours ago. It was like he was trying to tell us something. I have considered the possibility that this was in our heads; that his appearance had been like this for days and our hope would not let us see it. But no, my wife and I are convinced that there was a definite change in his appearance.

My wife formed a special bond with Dr. Patterson during our whole ordeal and we both believe that Dr. Patterson was trying to convey a message to her (or both of us) in the consultation that night. We also believe that Dr. Patterson might have been concerned that my wife didn’t quite get the message that she was trying to tell her without actually saying the words. During our visit with Blaze, Dr. Joseph one of the co-founding doctor of the hospital came out to talk to us. He spoke a little about Blaze’s condition and other cases he has handled in the past, and then he spoke about the role of a veterinarian when it comes time to let a pet go. I must say the conversation was light; maybe because he wasn’t talking specifically about Blaze at the time; but when he was through talking, both my wife and I knew that our battle was coming to an end. My wife believes that Dr. Patterson had something to do with the visit from Dr. Joseph. She feels that Dr. Patterson sensed that she still wasn’t quite getting the message she was trying to relay to us in the examination room earlier and may have send Dr. Joseph out to talk to us. In any case, after the discussion with Dr. Joseph, both my wife and I knew what we had to do.

We returned to the waiting room to discuss how we were going to proceed. We knew that we could not let Blaze go that night. We had other family members who would want to say goodbye to him. So we made the decision to wait until after work the next day, when we can get everyone in the family to the hospital to say their goodbyes. One problem was that Dr. Paterson was not scheduled to be working at that time. However, she told us that she was going to come in to be there for us. In fact, a number of staff members told us that they would come in though they were not on the schedule to work, or stay later than their scheduled time to leave work to be there for us when we let Blaze go. These are truly special people and we will never forget them. (Click here to see our Special Thanks to the Animal Specialty Center in Yonkers, New York)

My wife and I left the hospital that night knowing that without some type of miracle in the next twenty-four hours we would be letting our little boy go the next day.

Day 17 (Here’s to those who wait forever for ships that don’t come in):
Day seventeen started with my wife’s routine early morning phone call for a status report. Blaze’s condition had not changed any since the night before and it was apparent that there would be no miracles today. Later that day, my wife and daughter made their usual afternoon visit to see Blaze. After work, we met at the house to round up all our family members (including Kellie, our other dog) to take one last ride to the hospital to visit Blaze.

When we arrived at the hospital, we were taken to a “comfort room”. This was a small room with padded arm chairs and decorated to give a sense of tranquility. In fact my wife noticed one little knick-knack of a veterinarian with angel wings watching over a few dogs and cats. What made this amazing was this was given to a doctor there by my wife two and a half years earlier when they treated our other dog, Kellie, for cancer (remember Kellie is still here and was in fact, with us for this visit). Blaze was then brought into the room. It was the first time I saw him in over two weeks where he did not have a dozen wires attached to him. The only thing he still had was his breathing tube to protect his airway. We all took turns petting him and those who wanted to, was able to hold him. You can bet I took my turn at holding my little man. I held him for what must have been twenty minutes, petting him, telling him I loved him, and whispering in his ear little secrets that I would like to keep just between him and myself. When the time came, I passed him on to the next person so they could have their moment with him. At one point, my wife asked me if I would like to hold him again. I replied, “no”. I wanted everyone to have as much time as they needed with him. Finally, he wound up back in my wife’s arms, which is where he would remain until the end.

When the time came, anyone who wanted to remain in the room was welcome to do so. In the end, it was my wife and myself, my daughter Katie, Dr. Patterson and her assistant Donna, and Keri (a staff member who because very close with us). There were many other staff members who remain just outside the room waiting to be there for us when it was over. Most of these people became our friends over the seventeen days we spent at the hospital visiting Blaze, and many of them were off from work and on their own time while waiting to be with us.

When my wife was ready, my daughter and I took our positions next to her and Blaze. Blaze was in my wife’s arms, partially draped over her shoulder; and Katie and I were petting him, telling him we loved him. Dr. Patterson explained there would be two injections, the first one to flush the catheter out, and the second one would contain the drug that would let Blaze go. She said that he would probably be gone before the second injection was fully administered. She also said that she would tell us just before she started each injection. It was then, as I looked up at her, I noticed that she was crying. It was then, when I realized how hard this must have been for her. She and my wife had gotten very close over the past two weeks. In addition, she had spent the last two weeks utilizing all her knowledge of veterinary medicine to save Blaze and now it has come to this. She called out in a low voice, “The first injection” and administered it. She then picked up the second needle and called out in the same low voice “Okay, now the second one.” Just at that moment, before the second injection was administered, my wife hugged Blaze tightly and cried out, “Goodbye Blaze, I love you.”

I cannot find the words to accurately describe or do it justice to what happened next, but it was the most amazing thing I ever experienced in my life. The best I can say is the room filled with a feeling of love, a love on a level that I have never experienced before. It was something that went far beyond the five senses. And there was no doubt about it, it was coming from my wife. I am not sure at what level Blaze’s conscious state was at the time, but I know it does not matter; I know he felt that love at that moment; it was impossible for him not to. I now have a new respect for the power of a mother’s love.

Dr. Patterson then proceeded with the second injection. Immediately after she administered it, she checked Blaze with a stethoscope and in an even lower tone of voice than she had used before she said, “He’s gone.”

My wife continued to hold him for several minutes, and when she called for them to take him away she closed her eyes; she couldn’t watch them take him from her. We all spent several minutes in the room to regain our composure. We then, went back out to the waiting room to rejoin our other family members and to say our goodbye to the rest of the staff who were there for us. We left the hospital that night as a family, only we were one family member short. And it is a family member whose absence will be felt by us for the rest of our lives

Goodbye Blaze. We miss you and we will love you forever!

— Mark & Deborah from New Rochelle, NY

As I write this, Kana, who is a mostly yellow lab and the smartest dog in the world, is sleeping on her “puppy couch” on the enclosed porch instead of her “puppy bed” up the stairs that she can no longer climb. She was diagnosed with cancer a month ago and at her age, she would have been nine this October, and our limited funds, we decided to treat her with prednisone and a special diet. I will sleep on the sofa beside her until she tells me it’s time to let her go. She’s never left my side so I won’t leave her.

Kana was adopted by my husband and me when our son married and was not allowed by his wife to keep his then 8 month old pup She, the wife, wanted a designer dog and bought a yorkie a year later. We had already fallen in love with this smart, loyal and lively little girl, (Kana, not the wife) and she has been my most faithful companion. My heart is breaking and the only thing that will make it easy to let her go is not wanting her to be in pain.

My heart goes out to all who experience the decline and death of their “best friend”.

— Revonda from Salem, VA

My name is Gracie and I just want to tell how sorry I am about Pepsi. I am the happiest go luckiest little Jack Russell in the world and I owe it all to you. Three years ago I was born at a puppy mill under horrible conditions. In fact time was running out for me because I was getting too “old” to sell in a pet store I was scheduled to be put down. Mark I was only 4 months old! Little did I know that my mom and dad were going through a horrible time themselves. their beloved Gena was in failing health and one day the seizures wouldn’t stop. Her left side was paralized and they had to do the hardest thing a dog lover must do. She died peacefully in mom’s arms. They were sooooo sad. Mom couldn’t stand it. Her arms and heart were so empty. She had heard you talk often of your beloved dogs and how you rescused them. How wonderful their were and what you had done to save them. So she went on the net and found my picture at an animal sanctuary. She fell hook line and sinker. Called the center and within a few hours I had a new home. I’ve been here almost 3 years now. Because of your advocacy for rescue dogs she choose to adopt a dog that needed her. See Mark you have saved more than 3 dogs you saved me. I suspect you have saved many, many others that you will never know about. Thanks Mark! I have to go now I sense that Daddy needs to give me a treat and scratch my tummy.

— Sue from Oakland, MI

Goliath 11/3/01-06/4/2011
Today June 4th 2011, Goliath went to the Rainbow Bridge. He was with for 9 1/2 years. He was a beutiful Samoyed, displaying the best qualities of his breed. He was kind, gentle with children and always happy. InJanuary he developed a massin his nostril.Nothing could be done to save him. Farewell my friend. May God enjoy your company and freindship as much as I did.

— Douglas from Aurora, CO

I have 2 dogs, my boy Porkchop I received as a birthday gift (he came to me as a pup). I asked to diamond earrings from Tiffany’s, but I got him. He is better than any diamond. I would not trade him for any diamond or amount of money. Then there is my little gurl, Nelly Belly fully of Jelly. Porkchop’s vet rescued her. She was given up. Her age is estimated about 6-7. She had several medical conditions. The vet asked the local animal shelter if they would take her, they said yes, but that she would be put down in 3 weeks. The vet felt her medical conditions were treatable. At one of Porkchops visits she asked if I knew anyone who could foster Nelly until she can give her a clean bill of health and then put her up for adoption. I said well lemme see her so I can put the word out. My fatal mistake. I took her home 2 days later on Christmas eve 2010. I told my brother I was fostering her and his comment was “that dog ain’t going anywhere” , I told my boss and she said, “boy they saw you coming”. What do they know about me that I don’t? I offically adopted Nelly this spring. She is a pistol! She thinks she’s a pit! I think back at what her doctor said, the shelter would have put her down in 3 weeks. She would not be here now. But she is, she is a character, and she is loved, and spoiled rotten. Picture: Porkchop is the tan one and Nelly is the black and white.

— Patricia from San Leandro, CA