Remmie is my third German Shepherd Dog I’ve adopted from rescue.

Nobody wanted him because he was skin and bones, his fur was like wire, he was old (I think they estimated about 6 at the time, now about 8).

I’m not sure what his prior “owners” did to him other than starve him, but he looked a bit like someone stuck his bones in a dryer for a few minutes and then just draped his skin over top.

Now he has degraded quite a bit as he’s not able to walk very well. Since I can’t ASK him what he wants, I don’t know what to do: put him down? Keep him around until he totally can’t walk? I don’t know.

Mack, a prior adopted GSD I did the latter and that was just horrible – or did I just THINK it was horrible? I don’t know.

Sometimes it feels like Remmie is trying to tell me “see, I’m okay – don’t put me down” as he picks up a ball and tries to play. But he can’t go anywhere, so he just sits back down.

Other times, it looks like he’s in so much pain as he tries to ambulate through the yard to relieve himself (if he actually makes it that far…).

I don’t know what to do – do you know? How do I know if it’s not just me giving up on him?

I have two other GSDs – one I’ve had since birth (which was a gift) and the other is another rescue, who had also been starved previously.

I will continue to adopt from rescue – these people who throw away their dogs like a piece of garbage make me sick.

I’m going to hit the submit button – this is my second attempt at sending the article and pic – I’m not very good with this medium I’m afraid! Sorry if you got it twice!

Can’t wait to get your book. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to read it – every time you talk about it on the air, I cry. In fact, I cry a lot when I listen to your show – so thanks for mixing in the jokes!

God bless you. Keep up the priceless work you do.

Liz from MD

I remember the very day some 38 years ago when my father came in the door of our home carrying an 8 week old puppy. My brother, sister, and I were ecstatic as we were now the proud owners of a beagle. We named him Skipper fondly known as Skippy. From that day forward, Skippy was a member of the family. I have many memories of Skippy, but can only write of a few. Kids spend a lot of time in an imaginary world. Both my brother and I would team up and create Skippy’s “biography.” Not many people know this courageous beagle was the most decorated
dog in the “Dog and Cat Wars” of the 1970s. His heroism and valor led to him becoming a 4 Star General. Because of his stellar wartime experience, Skippy was elected President. That’s right….that is what I said, “President”. When Skippy would enter the room my brother and I would hum “Hail to the Chief” and out of respect refer to him as “Mr. President”. We put our beagle, our Skippy, on a pedestal in our imaginations and that was all a part of our early years with Skippy
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Lucy gives us so much love. She was abused when she was a puppy. Our family rescued her.

They had her for almost ten years. The family has other small dogs and in the mix Lucy bit a family member. They gave her to us.

We have had so much love from her that we can not imagine life without her. We are so glad she was out of character to bite her way to us.

Vonnie from Fl

Jake, my Bouvier des Flandres, was diagnosed with lymphoma in 2001 at the age of 7 1/2 yrs. and I put him to sleep in January of 2003. The loss of a beloved dog is never easy, but when it is spread out over a long period of time, it presents a unique challenge, because we just have to stare at them every day and try to figure out what’s going on with them. I hope my story will help others in the same situation.

It is hard to know when the time has come to say goodbye, because dogs instinctively mask symptoms of illness for as long as possible.

Our time came about 2:00 AM on a very cold Texas winter night. It was 22 degrees outside with a strong wind. Jake was insistent to go outside, so I let him out, but when he didn’t come back, I went out to search for him in the yard. He wouldn’t come to me as he had always done before, but ran away from me when he saw the leash in my hand. I had no choice but to follow him through the shrubbery until he finally gave up, so that I could bring him back into the house. I must have been quite a sight following him, with my robe flapping in the icy wind, but there was no way I was leaving him out there, and my mind was made up that I was going to win this particular battle.
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Let me begin by stating the obvious: DOG spelled backwards is GOD. With that said I want to make it clear in no uncertain terms that Man’s Best Friend is God’s way of showing us his unconditional love for us. Love based on nothing but “I am here to love you with all my might, and with every fiber of my body down to my wagging tail which only reflects my heart..’ No judgment is ever made on our looks our place in life, our income, skin color, ambition, education or anything else we tend to judge ourselves by. Utter unconditional love is what they bring to us. They demonstrate trust in us that is nearly impossible to find anywhere else in our lives and their Joy is based on one thing only.. to be by our sides. The goal of our dogs is simply to Please us. I could go on and on but those that have dogs and have come to recognize this gift of joy, humor, companionship and never ending love all wrapped up in a furry ball of sweetness.. already know these things. They are head and shoulders above the rest of God’s animals in character and integrity and honesty that simply goes beyond what we have come to expect as the norm from animals, and unfortunately even the norm of what we have come to expect too often from our fellow man.
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I know that this forum is mainly for dogs, and I’ve had the pleasure of having several in my life. Someday, I may write to tell you about some of them, but tonight I was so touched when you talked about Penny that I wanted to tell you about my cat, Moose.

He was born feral on some property owned by my sister’s former in-laws. For some reason, the mama cat would push him out of her little nest, and my sister would always gently put him back. One day I asked her if she thought he was old enough for me to take home, and she agreed that he was, so I did. For the next fourteen and a half years he was a constant companion and a dear friend. He would often amuse me with his antics.

At home, he was a very loving cat, and would try to cozy up to me as close as possible. When he was outside, he was very much the dominant Tom that ruled whatever neighborhood we lived in at the time. Some nights he would come home wounded from a fight, and he had a notched scar on one of his ears.
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