I had the very good fortune of having known someone who lived each day with deep respect, asking and expecting little, while giving so much.  Every day he sought to find ways to show love, have fun, and demonstrate concern for his family.  In a time where many show little consideration, let alone respect for others, he was a fountain of real happiness.  Self-sacrifice was something he lived by, without regret, enjoying every day as it came.
We brought him into our home into a new and strange world, a tiny, somewhat frail little boy (runt) needing medicine to overcome his early weeks.  After that, he needed nothing except a desire to earn our respect.  He deferred to all members of the family, demonstrating faith in everyone regardless of their understanding of his capabilities. Leon was very intelligent, cowering if one of us was upset with something; never with him.  His love was unceasing and like a precious gift.  Nearly everyone who met him instinctively knew he was happy just to be around and play, picking up his ball and giving it to them to play with him if they could.
One day he realized that we were not always able to play as much as he wanted letting me know he was bored.  I looked at him and said be careful for what you wish.  That led shortly thereafter to Shelby, who came to us as a baby as well.  Because of his giving and caring nature, the first time Leon saw baby Shelby eating her baby food, he did not push her away to eat it himself, he was so happy to have a her, he took his favorite treat and dropped it in front of her, not understanding she was not able to digest it.  Once again, he demonstrated a very advanced ability to think of someone else over himself. That never really got him far with Shelby.
As Shelby caught up with Leon in stature, Leon was always able to run circles around her, but deferred to her at meals and treats. To me, Leon was the very definition of the words noble and appreciative. He had a mischievous side, but he was also highly intelligent, He understood over 80 words and gestures and was able to “speak” hi, hello, yes, and made other sounds with unusual expression for a canine.
Unfortunately, in August of last year, 2011 at only 8 years old, cancer ended his life. I still cannot talk about his early departure to this day writing is easier since no one sees me. I was truly blessed to have known such a noble spirit who appreciated every day with us and made my life and everyone who knew him better. Loving unconditionally, playing with full intensity, and always smiling, even when he was hurting. He was the little boy I never had and he left too soon. He is in a better place where an endless sun smiles upon him.

— Derek from Laguna Niguel, CA

After over 15 years of unconditional love and devout service to our family Guinness has left this world and journeys into the next. Now you might question my motive for writing an obituary for a dog but you need to understand what an integral part of our family he was.

Guinness provided companionship and a sense that one could never be alone. In an empty house and during my times of unemployment, when as Father and provider, I would began to question my worth in a “cruel” market place he was there. Laying next to me during the countless resume submissions, job letters, e-mail submissions and telephone interviews. He would follow me from one room to the next as I cleaned house or prepared dinner only settling down when I settled down. A “good listener” Guinness was a great sounding board to any mock interview question and answer session. He assisted me in live telephone interviews looking up with a “its going to be ok” “relax” smile

For my children, Nathan and Caitrin he assisted, in many respects,  in the raising our family. Providing a wag and a lick after rough days on the playground, A warm body to snuggle up against on a cold night and who knows how many countless childhood adventures Guinness was involved in. When no one loved you or “understood you” somehow Guinness did, always there and at the ready to give the love that was needed or asked for.

Vigilant he would greet you upon your return home or run up to greet you when you came out of the ocean water. Ocean water, turned that dog into something that at times amazed me. No matter how many times I threw the retriever into the ocean, no matter how far I threw it, he would charge in after it. Once the children and I were out beyond the first break, in surf that was easily overhead high. It was a time for a Father to explain and teach the wiles of the sea to his children. In the background I heard a steady thump..thump..thump turning around to see Guinness swimming toward us. He circled, with a huge otter like tail guiding his direction, assuring himself that we were safe and that the children were in good hands…proceeding back to the beach a quick shake of the water and up towards Dora. The kids and I floated there amazed.

Dora, never really had an indoor dog; let alone one that weighed in at 85+lbs at his peak. When she packed the car for a day at the beach Guinness never really bothered to help, I mean how could he. Yet once a few key items were witnessed he would “bolt” for the car with the anticipation of a young child. We all laughed because you could never really get him out. As we drove toward our destination his nose was often just behind Dora’s head at times  snorting away while he breathed in the “buffet” of smells. His anticipatory pacing back and forth from Nate to Caity always created quite a stir. On the ride home you could see he had given it his all as he sleep soundly at the kids feet.  When Dora waited up for our kid’s he waited up with her, when she had hours of paperwork Guinness was at her feet.

Unfortunately the hikes, got a little longer than he could bear, the waves at the beach a little taller. He wanted to continue on with both; the heart and spirit so willing but alas his body continued to age.

I am somewhat at a loss as to how or who will clean the Ice Cream Bowls or BBQ Platters. Who will eat the left over Pizza Crust or clean up the spill on the floor

In the end he needed to be assisted with the simple task of getting up and walking. Somehow he would manage to sit up and wait until you could pick the rest of him up. Even then he recognized you, knew your smell and your touch behind those cloudy eyes. Often laying his head in your lap enjoying what little he could of a vigorous rub of the nose, head and ears. We will miss him dearly and yes he was one in a million.  We know he is now in “good hands” his ailments and infirmities gone forever; running next to a horse on a beach that is never ending.

— Phil from Camarillo, CA

I remember the first time I saw you. You were at the top of the street and began to run beside the truck as I made a horse click with my tongue and drove the 1/4 mile down to Solara.

You wanted to be petted but were scared. Seems in your first few months a man was not nice to you.  That stayed; weren’t scared so much, but building trust with men came slowly.

There you were, but a pup, infected hot spot covering 70% of your back, three kinds of worms and two kinds of mites-so malnourished the vet thought you were greyhound, Oh yes, you were in heat. Jeff got you patched up and we began to learn who Elle Velvet was.

There was a sense of territory was about you. It might be the UPS man or the Cornerstone Baptist folk going to Sunday school, or someone raking their lawn at the Cardinal, you just needed to bark at people in your space. Seems you did not recognize the end of Solara and the beginning of the world.

All you wanted was to be around people and RUN. Sprints, distance whatever. Hell, Forest Gump had nothing on you! Running for you made catching squirrels straight forward. With your good mind, you developed a technique. Lay patiently, let the squirl get comfortable AND far enough from the tree.  At just the right moment, sprint to the tree and cut off the escape, then, well, you know.

Fierce was there as well. The scars on your snout and above your eyes were the tell. If there was a raccoon on the property there was going to be a dust up. A big one! Raccoon on hind legs hissing and screaming. Big dog barking, growling, and circling looking for the opening. The ones that got you girl were the smaller quicker ones. Then off to the vet for stitches and a rabies booster. I saw one fight, Jean another; which hardly accounted for the 4 or 6 that you brought up to the house each year.

You loved the beach, lake, or a run in the Starmount Parks. Just wanted to be with your people. Thank you for going to the lake Tuesday night. Washing your hair one more time left you so pretty. It is a good picture as well girl.

Today and yesterday were hard for. You were, in character, strong. I am full of gratitude that you did not suffer long.

It was my honor to be there to help you in the end Elle; I know had the roles been reversed, you would do the same for me.

— Mose from Greensboro, NC

My dog, Rudy saved my life! Six years ago I was severely injured, fully handicapped afterward and left in a terrible state of constant pain. Eventually, I began to consider ending my life. My wife was starting to see through it and became very worried about me. Then, she brought home a little Doxie puppy suddenly and told me I had to help take care of him while she was working.or we would have to give him up. I have always loved hound dogs and my wife knew I had a special place in my heart for my childhood hunting dog, Boots. A standard Doxie that shadowed me  everywhere and was my best friend in the world untill he died at age six.. Even at school! he would show up and sit under my desk not making a sound for hours. The teacher never knew he was there most of the time. I was crushed when he died I just knew I would never find another dog like Boots. Well, I was wrong…Rudy rules!

— Robert from Bloomington, IL

Twenty years ago I was pretty well messed up in a job related circumstance. I was a lineman working out of a bucket truck, just back from repairs. The repairs were faulty, causing me to be carried into power lines. The hot line hit the top of my head and the boom hit the neutral. According to medical reports, I had 186,000 volts applied and fell 24 feet to land on my head in the back of the truck. The results were over 3 years of constant operations and the loss of the left arm. According to the experts I also developed electrically induced MS on top of all that.

When I was injured, I had a magnificent border collie who was my best friend. He lived to 16 years. According to the vet, the usual lifespan is 12 years. I was really torn up by his loss. I was still grieving when a friend brought me a little 7 week old puppy. She was a mix between a Chow and an American Eskimo. That was an unintended mating as the dogs were registered and were to be bred to breed. The litter was undesired. I do not know what happened to the rest of the litter, but this little 2 1/2 pound girl became the love of my life. Since I could rarely get out, we were together nearly all the time. My grandchildren grew up with her, and loved her dearly. That love was returned many times over. She and I became extremely close. She was always there to let me know she was watching over me. She thought she was my little mother I think. She made life worth living. She even learned when the MS flareups were coming and would let me know with enough warning to prepare for them. She was a bossy little thing, always letting me know exactly what would make her happy. She was a loving little thing, constantly reminding me not to listen to the doctors who kept giving me promises that my death would be soon. She made life a marvel of love.

We always slept together. She eventually got to where she could not jump up on the bed. We started doing it a bit differently. She would take a running start, and I would give her a midair boost to get on the bed. That took trust! That lasted for a good while, but even that became too much for us. I could sleep on the bed and she could not get near, so when she was twelve, the bed was no longer used. I would sleep in chairs with her lying on my feet. Eventually age was gaining on her and she had to go out about every 2 hours or so. I spent two years getting very short naps, never more than 3 hours sleep, but she was my baby and worth it.

By now she was 14 years and eleven months, exactly 1 month shy of 15 years. She was a little wobbly walking sometimes but still very loving. Two days ago she started not feeling well. By this morning she was very weak and could not stand up, even with help. It took me a good while, but I finally got her into the car, on the way to the vet. She never moved. At the vet, they carried her in and laid her on the floor. The vet examined her and said that she was just worn out. According to him, the kindest thing to do was to put her to sleep. I would have gladly given her half my time on earth so that we could stay together, or died in her place. I have made that decision once before with my collie. It got no easier the second time. I lay on the floor holding her. She could barely raise her head. Still those beautiful little eyes looked up at me with love and trust. And I betrayed her. I did not know what else to do. She was suffering and would never get better. And I betrayed her.

I held her as they gave her the first shot, the sedative. I held her, talking to her, tickling her chest and belly just the way she liked for me to do. They had to give her a second sedative shot. She was becoming groggy as she licked mt hand the for the last time. She was finally tranquilized and out. At this time they said it was time for the last shot. I am 63 years old and yet I was crying as a child. They inserted the needle. As they pushed in the plunger, I thought my heart would burst. She took her last breath. Her little body was limp. My little 40 pounds of love and trust were no more.

My stepbrother helped me bury her. The vet offered to “dispose” of the body. I brought her home.

Her name is Becky. She died July 20, 2012. Her birthday was August 20. She would have been 15 years old. In Her lifetime, we were apart 4 nights. Once when she was spayed and stayed overnight at the vet. The other 3 nights were when I was in the hospital. Each of those nights, she had a babysitter. This is the first night in over 14 years that she is not here with me. I miss her so much that it is tearing my heart out.

— Jim from Knoxville, TN

At 8:30pm 07/22/2012 my 14 year companion passed away. He wasn’t a pure bred but to me he was my best friend, He always listened to me and never complained about my complaining. He and I shared a look into one another’s eyes today and I knew he was telling me this was to be his last day on earth. I could read it in his eyes.  I took his head in my hands and I told him, ” Buddy I love and I always will.” That was about 1pm. My buddy came into the house, after lounging on the back deck most of the day. He laid down and the he just stopped breathing. I just had to express my thoughts to some one would understand the pain. I know it has to be but it doesn’t take away the pain. I am kind of sorry to lay this on you but I just need to get it out.He was just an old boy and his time was due. I know God calls the shots but the pain still stings me through. Thanks for the shoulder Mr. Levin. God bless us all we need it. If I can find a picture of my Tekki I will post it. But the venting is what helps me cope with this loss.

— John from Swansea, MA