Samson was a cross between a shepard and a St. Bernard and weighed in about 200 pounds. I was a deputy sheriff in Monterey County when I found him curled up in the center of the road while I was on patrol one cold night. We became inseperable and he was very protective of me and my family. I was injured on duty and forced into an early retirement. Part of my rehad was getting a lot of exercise by dredging for gold in the Salmon River in northern California. We had a large tent set up for Thanksgiving and had placed a fifth wheel trailer onto some mining claims I had purchased. I left the tent set up and stored fifty pound bags of dog food, among other things, in it. One moonless night I heard Samson barking very excidedly and knew something was wrong. I went outside and found him barking at the front entrance to the tent. I went over to him and I heard the sounds of crunching coming from inside the tent. I thought, “Ratcoons are after my dog food.” I flipped open the tent flaps and said, “Get em Samson!” Samsom leaped into the tent with me right behind him. It was pitch black and I couldn’t see anything when I heard a very large roar. I knew immediately it was a bear in the tent after my dog food. Samson lit into him and the fight was on. They were going back and forth, just in front of me, with mighty grawls and snapping jaws. I couldn’t find the entrance to the tent and it seemed forever before I shot out the entrance and ran for the trailer to get my rifle.

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Spike, that’s his name. He was a Manx — the cat with no tail. You know they come from the factory that way.

I lived overseas for many years, and when I returned I decided to get a buddy. I picked up Spike at the Cat Show. He was bouncing all around the cage and seemed perfect for me.

Spike let me live with him for 22 years. He was always there when things at work went bad. He went with me to Atlanta for a couple of months when I had to undergo prostate treatment.

His last days were the worst time in my life. I spent the last night sleeping on the floor with him. I think he knew the time had come. The next day is one I will never forget.

I had Spike cremated and he is in a nice box sitting on his favorite chair in the dining room looking out the window at the birds that he loved to watch. I speak to him every day.

Thanks Splike for letting me be your friend.

I tried several times to send his photo, but it would not go — perhaps he wants to stay just with me.

John from MI

Molly a peer bread black lab came into my life when i started the first grade. she wasnt the typical lab. that being the slender energetic type she was very stocky but solid and had shorter then avrage legs she was very unique. Molly was with me all through grade school all the way up to the eleventh grade. She had everything a dog could ask for… plenty of land to roam never been leashed i remember at night when it was time for molly to come in the only voice she would respond too would be mine.my dad or my mom tried and tried but could never get her inside. molly had a favorite spot in the drive way where she like to lay it was right where the concrete and the dirt met and she would dig a small hole and lay down it must of been cool there and one day molly laid down in her favorite spot after a swim in the pond and she never woke again she was 13 years old

Travis from MN

I always knew that I wanted a puppy of my own. When I rescued Dolly, my miniature daschund, from an abuser breeder, I found out why. I will never forget the day that my boyfriend and I went to pick her up. She was in a cat carrier with another dog. The smell of the room made it obvious that the carrier also served as her bathroom. When she was let out of the cage, she was so excited she peed. Dolly was very hard to train and I had many sleepless nights trying to figure out how to reverse the abuse she had suffered. However, no matter who scared or timid she is or was, she remains loyal, kind and generous with kisses. She has brought so much happiness to my life. When I am sad she sits with me. When I am angry she cuddles me. When I am stressed out she licks me. Finally, Dolly is my best friend and she would never betray me. Therefore, I will never betray her.

Britney from MI

Our friends brought Bridie, a four month old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel to the States from the UK in 1996. I had no idea we would spend the next ten years sharing every heart break and every joy for ten years. She gaves us four adorable puppies and that was pretty amazing, as she “wasn’t that kind of a girl” and didn’t like sex, so she had to be artificially inseminated! When I had two mini strokes and couldn’t talk right for seven months and slept 20 hours a day, Bridie and I spent most of those snuggled on the sofa. Together we missed many a breakfast, way too many lunches and her dinners were often a milk bone, but she never complained. On her 10th birthday she didn’t even get excited when I put her little birthday cupcake on the floor. My heart skipped a beat that day. Slowly she changed. She couldn’t see well, she was deaf, she hurt too much to walk so I pushed her in a baby carriage, for months. On the day, that awful day, my daughter, husband and I drove her to the vet in her baby carriage, wrapped in my bathrobe. She slept during the ride and only awoke when she smelled the vet enter the room. For all you who have been witness to the last breath your furry best friend takes, I cry for you, too. Actually, the three of us were numb. I have four wonderful, grown children, yet, Bridie was my little girl, too. The memory of that day still causes me great, great grief. I have to say, though, that 5 days ago, we picked up our little boy, Archie, a four month old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. We are in the process, my husband And I of making a million new memories.. it’s time, it’s just time.

P.S. My grand dogs are still fine and dandy, too!

Pappy from NJ

A short story about the dog I had growing up. My dog Catcher was a mutt. Half cocker, half beagle. When I came home from my very first day of first grade in 1971, there he was a little ball of fir, rolled up sleeping in his bed on the patio. I was an only child and lived in a neighborhood that didn’t have allot of other children and I instantly had a new best friend. That dog and I grew up together, through grade school, high school and then college. Fast forward to 1986, when I graduated from college and then went off to be an officer in the US Navy. I was fortunate enough to live close enough to my parents home that I could easily visit on weekends when I wasn’t out to sea or on duty. Old Catcher had been though allot in his life, a more than a few mishaps and near misses. His hearing was poor, he had cataracts, and he had started to lose a bit of bladder control and his face had turned from a wonderful brown/black to a stately white.

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