Hi Mark, my name is Max and this is my story. I was only 9 weeks old when I went home with my boy and girl, Paul age 7 and Vicky age 6. I was supposed to be a Boston Terrier but I wound up a mix. I only cost 5 dollars and a lady told my kids that I “sure was ugly”. But they didn’t care, they just loved me that much more. My kids lived in the country so I had lots of room to run and play, to dig holes and bury things. When I was about 6 years old we moved to a different place in the country. There I had squirrels to chase. I even chased a fox once!! With my short legs I didn’t have a chance of catching him, but it sure was great fun. At this place my kids had to walk a half mile to and from the school bus. Every afternoon I would sit in the front yard, look down the road and wait for my kids to come home. When I would see them I would be so happy. I’d run to meet them and safely escort them to the house. I took care of all my family. Once my kids’ mom stepped out of the bard door, turned her ankle and fell. I went and sat close beside her and let her hug me for several minutes before her ankle stopped hurting. Well, my kids graduated ffrom high school, got a job, got married and left home. Guess I was getting old and forgetfull for I would still go and sit in the yard and look down the road, waiting for my kids to come home. Sometimes I’d wait for an hour or two before I’d give up and go to the house.By the middle of my seventeenth year I was sick and getting very feeble. I had arthritis so painful I could hardly walk. My kids’ mom took me to the vet. She held me close to her breaking heart until I peacefully fell asleep.
In memory of Max 1965-1982

Mickey from OR

The photo(s) are those of my son’s Rhodesian Ridgebacks. The puppy, Kito, is a new addition and is a treasure. Jelani is about two years old now (a 104 pound two year old) and tolerates Kito’s antics.

Stephen from NJ

We are a family of dog lovers. Right now we have five of them. Two English Springer Spaniels, a Labrador mix, a Yorkie, and a teacup Poodle puppy. All our dogs have been rescues from shelters except the Poodle puppy. Each has their own unique and sad story. All are deeply loved by us. No dog more then any of our previous dogs in our thirty years of marriage. However, this is my story of one very special little dog who died this year and left a huge loss in our family.

Ten years ago we adopted “Ally” from a rescue group in California. She was a five-pound teacup Poodle who had been “disposed” of by the previous owners because she was dropped on the floor by someone in the family and had broken her front leg and they did not want to pay to fix the leg. The rescue group took her in and generously fixed her leg. We saw her adorable picture and story on their website and were the lucky family chosen to adopt our little Ally.
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Dear Mark,
I remember three dogs distiinctly in my life. Simba, a German shepard mix, who was poisened at the age of eight months. Igglesby Beauregard Frapadoodle, a beagle-shelty mix, who lost his life to a hit and run driver at just under a year old. And Sam Houston Hound-dog.
Sam was the only puppy of a beagle mix mother and an Irish Setter father. He was born a year after I was. He died peacefully eighteen years later. When my brother told me about it we both cried like children, to us it was as if we had lost a third brother. I would like to have described some of the times we had, but even eighteen years later, as I think about it I can’t help but cry.
God Bless you for all you do to beat back the hordes, and God bless you for your love of animals.

David from Georgia

Growing up, my parents were registered breeders of Toy Poodles, and we enjoyed the companionship of our two dogs, Pepper and Penny. Pepper was my litle buddy. He would fetch frisbees by turning them upside-down with his little nose and carrying them back in his teeth. He would put his front paws together in a praying pose when you picked him up. Whenever he marked his territory on a tree, he would walk on his front paws for several feet to avoid stepping on what he just left behind.

Pepper and Penny were both very sweet dogs, and took care of me as one of their own. My mom taught Pepper to respond to the command “Go find Tim” by running into my room and jumping on my bed to wake me up, which he usually accomplished by licking my ears.

He was such a free spirit. When I was about 13, we had moved to the big city a couple years back, and had tried our hardest to keep our dogs contained in the yard and house, but Pepper got out one day. My dad drove around the neighborhood looking for him, but unfortunately found him dead after losing a fight with a car. Dad wrapped Pepper up in a bag so I wouldn’t have to see or smell him that way, and we buried him in our back yard near the place where he had escaped.

I miss that little dog.

Years later my mom eventually had to put Penny to sleep. I’m going to introduce her to this website so she can write that story herself. Thanks Mark.

Timothy from Texas

Pipes, the cat, was born under my house up on the Tulare/Fresno county line at 2300 ft above sea level. He was your basic marmalade tabby. At 22 lbs, he was a formidable tom. Pipes grew up dodging cayotes and defending his territory against all intruders. He had nicked ears and many trips to vet as proof. At about 16 yrs, we moved down to Solana Beach into an ocean front condo. Pipes walked out on the porch and looked at the ocean. I could just see him thinking “I can do this”. At about 20 yrs, his buddy, Choop, died. Choop was 17. He was buried in the middle of the night in a “forbiden” site with much love and ceremony. So, we got Pipes a companion. A sweet little white female kitten. When he first approached her, she swatted him right in the nose. They soon became best pals. She kept his face clean, and they cuddled all the time. Pipes never got “rickety “…just tired. I miss him so much, and I’m certain Ms Pris does too.

Richard from CA