I don’t know how to send a picture of our beloved little Maltese; simply picture in your mind’s eye THE sweetest and cutest little white, fluffy doggie that ever lived…. he died early, at the age of 5 1/2 of multiple melanoma… even though we have had many dogs over the years (we are 64) this little precious one somehow “connected” with our hearts and minds.. he was devoted to a fault; he understood a myriad of words and commands … always amazing us with his intelligence… I can’t tell you how much we miss our little Dexie – we cannot seem to bring ourselves to “replace” him, as he can NEVER! be replaced…. there is a painful void and cloud that seems to hang over our lives…. we are now beginning, however, to remember him with much more JOY than pain and this is a wonderful change….. I cannot WAIT to read “Sprite” — I have already placed on order one through Amazon and will be in Huntington on the 10th of Nov…. I can’t WAIT for that!!! Thank you for writing this book as I KNOW it will be a very important book for us….

Sincerely, Carol from New York

In summer of 2004, 3 stray dogs were wandering around our family owned business. I left food out for them when I arrived in the morning and before I left at the end of each day.
Only one of the dogs stayed around. We assumed she was pregnant. Finally in late Sept. we could hear pups crying in a cave. The mom still came out morning and afternoon to eat. She would carry the dish away with the food in it. I couldn’t figure out why she didn’t stay and eat. I thought it was because she was too afraid to take the time. I’d talk to her as she passed through, but could never get close, she always walked away from me.
In October we saw 3 pups asleep at the opening of the cave. I placed food there but was hesitant to get too close. I didn’t know where momma was. That night we told our brother-in-law who was interested. He came to the yard the next day in hopes of seeing the pups. We went up in back & couldn’t hear anything. As I started to walk away, I noticed something to the left of the cave, up higher on a level part of the bank. I called out & 6 little heads started popping up. They were beautiful, healthy puppies. I started handing the pups down to my husband & brother-in-law. One of the pups was squirming so much she slipped back down into the cave. Just then, they shouted to me to move out of there because Momma was on the other side of the fence. She just laid there watching. I didn’t know what to expect from her so I left the one pup and got out. I then called animal control for assistance to retrieve the other pup. The officer went back to the cave and got the other pup. I placed a plate of food out and they all dove into it. I wondered how they knew how to eat like that, if they had only been nursing. The animal control officer assumed they were at least 8 weeks old. They were all clean, free of parasites and chubby. Momma did a great job!

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Mark, thank you so much for sharing your story about Sprite. I found great comfort in your words. I had to have my Australian Shepherd, Zac, put to sleep last fall. Zac was a great dog-never more happy than when I said, “Let’s go check the sheep”. He was still my “puppy” at the age of almost 9 when the vet discovered a mass in his belly and spots on his lungs. I could have taken him to a pricey dog oncologist in Cleveland but chose to bring him home to the place he was comfortable. That night, I slept in the livingroom with him and woke each time he struggled to breathe. I made the decision to have him put to sleep the next morning. Zac is buried in the back yard next to my roses. I cried nearly everyday for a while and then less and less but as I relate this to you, my eyes are once again filling with tears! I didn’t think I’d get another dog for a long time but I found myself calling Zac’s breeder just to see if they would be having any puppies in the future. I was dismayed to find that someone had poisoned Zac’s mom and she didn’t have plans for a new female . HOWEVER, her daughter had purchased an Aussie pup but had since moved to Texas. “Georgie” was living there but was unhappy and in need of a family. You guessed it! I needed him and he needed me. So, my broken heart was mended and Zac’s memory was honored by taking a chance on Georgie.

Beth from Ohio

I was so upset when you read the article about horses being tortured as they’re slaughtered in Mexico. I wrote to my senators and representative (all liberals, including Her Thighness) encouraging them to pass the American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act. I also got friends and relatives here and in other states to contact their elected officials. I find it interesting, and disgusting, that we’re so worried about the caribou in Alaska, but not doing anything about what’s happening to American horses in Mexico.

The love of my life is a six year old yellow Labrador named Cygni. She is truly the center of my universe. I think one of the reasons she’s so important to me is because we got her a few weeks after 9/11. I’m one of the most patriotic people you’ll ever meet and she helped me focus on something besides what was happening to our country. I’ve already been worrying for years about the day she won’t be with me.
Mark, I love your show. I have even more respect and admiration for you now that I know you’re a fellow animal lover. And yes, especially dogs. I’m looking forward to the book, although I suspect it will be heartbreaking. By the way, what a lovely wife you have.
Marianne  from NY

It was just a few days into my summer vacation after 3rd grade that we welcomed a new member into our family. Our beloved cat Sandy would be part of our lives for the next 17 years. The first time I held him I was a little girl. The last time I cradled him I was married and pregnant with my first child.

About a year after Sandy’s death, my mom wrote his story. It was published by our local Humane Society to help highlight Adopt-A-Cat Month.

Here are some excerpts from what my mom shared about our Sandy:

It was a June day that our family adopted Sandy from the Wisconsin Humane Society. And it was a June day that I took Sandy to the veterinarian for the last time. Those intervening seventeen years held a wealth of life experiences, sad and happy times, made richer for having had a family cat in the scenario.

Sandy was six weeks old when we got him—a warm, cuddly furry ball. He was right for us and we were right for him. We remember well his passion for fresh cantaloupe, his purring sounds when we’d hold him close, his big, beautiful eyes that matched his coat, his fastidiousness, his chasing snowflakes or blowing leaves with his paw through a window, and his drinking of the water out of the fishbowl while leaving the fish alone.
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I’m sending pictures of my little Emma, she’s been with us for almost a year now. She was 8 weeks old when we got her. She has three doberman sisters, a rotty brother and an Australian shepard sister. Even with all these gentle giants in our home little Emma rules the roost. She’s and angel who loves to play in the fresh cut grass, and who loves Halloween because it’s yet another excuse for her to get dressed up. And she loves to sit on my knee at the computer and listen to your show with me…what can I say??? The girl’s got a good head on her shoulders.

Lorna from ON