Mark,
I heard your story about Sprite and wanted to share mine about our pup. In March, 2000, we went to the Pinellas County animal shelter in hopes of finding and adopting the perfect dog. The manager told us to hang in there for a week as he had a litter that was hot and they would arrive within that week. The puppies mother was shot by some kid with a cross bow and shelter volunteers were raising the pups in their home. They were golden brown in color, part Chow and part Shepard with a generous amount of moody but intelligent Terrier. They would probably grow to be around 60 lbs. Just right!

The manager called me on the day the puppies were to arrive, we were there, when the car arrived and helped to welcome all six of the 8 week old puppies to the shelter. After watching them for an hour or so, one small male seemed to be dominant. This guy ran everybody else off when he wanted a drink from the water dish. He blundered his way through the crowded puppy pen, at will, and pushed everyone out of the way to do it. Yes, this was to be our dog. We paid the shelter and took him home with us.

When he arrived at our home, this 6 lb pile of fur went around making everybody tow the line. The cat was simply an annoyance while he was bent and determined to take my wife’s place in the pecking order of the house. We named him Diesel and he lived up to his moniker. I was safe and he had no designs of making me submit to his will but everything and everybody else was subject to a surprise attack or relentless toying. He was one lovable mess.

One morning, 3 weeks after his arrival, we woke up and found Diesel’s left eye was enormous. I went into a rage thinking the cat had scratched his eye. Our vet was blocks from the house and I put the cat in her carrier and somehow didn’t kill her before getting her to the vet and instructing them to de-claw her. I would pick her up later, maybe much later, maybe never. The vet went to work on Diesel’s eye and after much study declared the problem to be glaucoma. There was nothing he could do but sent me to a Veterinary Ophthalmologist in St. Pete Fl.

Diesel and I arrived at the Veterinary Ophthalmologist office later that night at his first available appointment. There was nothing he could do either. He indicated that the left eye was gone, the dog was in tremendous pain and the right eye would experience the same fate in the not too distant future.

We thought of everything we could to save the dog. We talked to several doctors and even considered getting a Seeing Eye dog that would show him the ropes as only a dog could do. Nothing made sense. He had 2 options, live in pain and blind or be put down.

I refused to put him through that so I took him back to the shelter. I couldn’t even talk as I was choking and sobbing. Finally, I told an assistant working at the shelter that there was a dog on the front seat of my car that needed to be destroyed. Diesel knew what I was doing so, he took a wiz on the front seat of my car as a sort of personal reminder. I drove it for another 2 years and when I sold it, you could still smell the urine.

We decided that since we wanted a dog, we ought to try again. Two weeks later, we were back at the shelter. The manager told us that 2 of the pups, both females, from the original litter had contracted Kennel Cough and had been isolated. There they were, in the back of a small painted concrete enclosure. They both looked just like Diesel. One was slightly more dominant than the other so we selected her. By then they had grown to almost 13 lbs. With a deep breath, lots of fear and high hopes, we took the dog that was to be named Caleb, home with us. Biblical text tells us that when the Israelites were going into the next area, they sent 12 scouts out to spy on the land. 10 of those scouts came back shivering in their sandals while Joseph and Caleb were ready to take on the inhabitants, just like God told them to do.

Caleb was adopted in April of 2000. She’s 8 yrs old now and has arthritis. Someone forgot to tell her she is a dog and she is content just being a part of the family! Dinner for Caleb is at 5:00 every night. At 5:01 somebody gets nudged toward the dinner dish. We don’t know where she keeps her watch. She goes out on our pontoon boat with us, plays with all the neighborhood kids and has reached dizzying heights of spoiled and laziness. The dog is so intelligent that we can’t get away with anything around her. She’s fiercely protective and has a growl that will get your attention, in spades. She likes everybody and wouldn’t know what it was like to be on the outs with anyone. She’s never attacked anyone and has never needed anything more than a stern word to get her back on track when stubbornness takes over. She’s a happy pup and we’re happy to have her.

Dave From Florida

Since 1989 my wife Virginia and I have had five basset hounds. We currently have two, Melody my little red and white, and Tanzy my rescue basset.

My first three, Chester, Tiny and Blazer were brothers and sister and are gone now. Melody is their cousin. But I’ll always have good memories of their loyalty, their gentle nature and their companionship and their personality quirks. Melody and Tanzy have their own beds shaped like a chair since they like to sleep in my recliner. I’m a simple man, and one of the pleasures I get in life is watching my hounds sleep in their beds. They’re pretty much indoor hounds, going out only when necessary. They do expect and get a McDonald’s sausage biscuit from time to time.

Tiny was my female basset. She loved to ride on the seat of my truck and sniff the cool air coming out of the air conditioner vent. Chester would sleep on his sofa and let the cat play with his tail. We lost Blazer when he was just over a year old – he was born without an adrenal gland. So the breeder gave us Tiny. Melody has such a gentle nature if the cat crawls into her bed she’ll get up and leave. She did let the cat get into her basked once, as the picture shows. But her personality changes if someone comes into her yard our our house uninvited. Then she’s a pit bull with long ears.
My hounds occupy a very big spot in my heart.

 Artie From Virginia

Corky was our first dog, a Shih-tzu, to come into our family 8 1/2 years ago. My wife and I have 4 daughters so I thought it was time to bring a male in to help me out. And without my permission and at the recommendation of a female vet, my little Corky was neutered!! Since then I do not sleep well at night, but Corky has been a wonderful addition to our family.

Steve From North Carolina

Sara Whalen passed away earlier this year. We had known each other for a long time. She ran a rescue shelter for “all creatures great and small” in Middletown NY. She had many stories to tell and she herself has already become folklore. This is one of the many stories this compassionate and passionate animal rescuer wrote me about.

From: Sara Whalen
Date: June 4, 2005 3:40:45 PM EDT
Subject: Scruffy

On May 4, 1991 I appeared in the Town of Hempstead Court along with Marilyn Mason attorney and Peter Borschelt, an animal behaviorist to plead for the life of a female chow chow. She was labeled ‘the most vicious dog’ the shelter had ever captured and had been ordered to be killed as soon as her puppies were weaned. They captured her the day before she whelped her mixed breed litter and she snapped at them. At the shelter she had three puppies, two of whom died after being hosed down by the cleaning staff. One, a young male with a deformed foot was still alive (but wet and bedraggled) two weeks later when we three went to court. His mom defended him with her life and picked him up in her mouth when they hosed the kennel, trying desperately to keep him from drowning.

The Judge heard our pleas in a courtroom session that brought dozens of shelter employees who testified to her terrible temperament. We three testified that a mother has to resort to whatever is necessary to protect her young. The Judge was sympathetic but concerned about where the chow could possibly be placed if her life were spared. At that moment I made a decision that I am so very thankful I made. I offered to bring her back to Pets Alive and try to rehabilitate her.

Today I lost Scruffy after 14 years. She was a fascinating friend who never gave me a minute’s problem, never had an ‘attitude’ with those she loved and got along with all creatures great and small. She was the best listener I have ever known. To the end she was a lady, brave and kind and as she left me she sighed her contented sigh so that I would know she was peaceful.
I know she is with me but the loss is not bearable at the moment. I have no one to go home to but I have to go home to care for her friends, Maxx (Rose’s godson), Mikey, Prince, Shiloh, Oreo, Baby and Maddie. They will all notice that she is gone and I am sure the house will be quiet tonight.

Because I need to smile I will remember how frightened Adam was of her and I will remember too that she finally bit him last year with her ‘old lady teeth’ when he raised his voice to me once too often. That ‘bite’ was the only ‘vicious’ act she ever committed.

She has two good friends waiting for her in her new space – I am sure that Jake and Waldo have made her comfortable.

You are all my good friends and I am sorry if I depressed you but I need to share my pain – it is too heavy for me to carry alone.

Thank you for being my friends.

Sara

Many dog owners and lovers have read Senator Vest’s famous dog speech. For those that haven’t I have included a copy here.

Gentlemen of the Jury………..
Charley Burden was a small time farmer on Big Creek in Johnson County, Missouri. He had a hound dog; most farmers did. Charley called him Drum.
On a neighboring farm lived Lon Hornsby, Charley’s brother-in-law. Hornsby began missing chickens from his barnyard and blamed his loss on old Drum. He threatened to do something about it if he missed any more.
In the early evening of October 28,1869, old Drum dragged himself home with a fatal charge of buckshot in his flanks. To Charley Burden it was like losing a member of the family.
Lon Hornsby angrily denied he was responsible. Burden sued not knowing that his case would become famous. He hired George G. Vest, who later was to become a U.S. Senator. He is now best remembered for his dog speech.

It was the night of September 23, 1870, when, after a bare summation of the points, Vest in a quiet and confidential voice began:

“Gentlemen of the Jury-The best friend a man has in the world may turn against him and become his enemy. The son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those that are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps, when he needs it most. A man’s reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud on our heads. The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog. A man’s dog stands by him in prosperity and poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master’s side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journeys through the heavens. If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies. And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in his embrace, and the body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there, by the grave side will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad, but open to alert watchfulness, faithful and true, even in death.”

Vest spoke to the jury less than three minutes. But even that was longer than it took the jury to bring in a verdict in favor of old Drum.
Anthony from Florida

On no particularly special day in October 1991 my girlfriend (at the time) came to my home crying. I asked her what was wrong and she said she had met a girl with a little black puppy in the parking lot of the mall where she worked. The girl related a story of a “terrible pound” in Newark, NJ where she got the pup. The girl said there were 2 more of the litter there. I promised we’d go the next day and if the pups were still there we’d get one. The next day we drove to Newark; the pound was near the Budweiser Brewery. My girlfriend wouldn’t go in because she would “want to take every dog she saw home”. I stopped at the front desk and spoke with the attendant and described the little black puppy, she asked her partner if any of the “little black pups were left?”. Neither were sure. So the young lady led me to the puppy cage (I had to pass what seemed like 100 adult dogs in cages – it wasn’t easy).

I looked into the puppy cage and didn’t see any black pups. Then what seemed like a dozen or so other puppies saw us and they ran right to us. They were big and brown and fluffy. Then I saw this tiny black puppy looking off into space not even aware of our presence. I told the young lady that was the one I wanted. She got the dog and put her in my hand, she was barely bigger than my palm. She was dirty and seemed almost unconscious. I signed the papers and took the pup outside and put her in my girl’s lap (who never left the car). We stopped at my mother’s house which was closer to Newark than my house (I didn’t think the little thing would make it). My girl bathed the dog in the bathroom sink as I went and got some puppy chow. I mixed the chow with warm water to soften it and this lathargic; tiny black puppy wolfed down the food. That pup grew into my best friend, never leaving my side. I never had to use a leash (except at the vet’s), I never even put a collar on her – she never left my side. I’m a police officer – I’ve seen death in alot of different ways. I’ve lost family members and friends. However on June 22, 2007 at 3:15 p.m. I had to put Kid Charlemagne to sleep. It was the worst day of my life. I don’t want to bore you with all of the wonderful things that great little dog (with the big heart) taught me so I’ll just say this: “If dogs don’t go to Heaven when they die, I want to go where they go”. I’m not sure who first said that, but all I can say is…amen.

P.S. the pound in Newark wasn’t awful, it was great; full of caring people.

Joe From New Jersey