While working in Minneapolis at the beginning of this year, 2010, I had to leave my two dogs at my house in Little Rock with some friends. Last month on February 20th, Dollie, my ten-year old lab-shepherd mix, accidentally got out and ran off. The following Friday, a lady came to the door of my house in Little Rock and my friend was there. She said she saw Dollie the previous Saturday. She said she stopped by the side of the freeway to try to save a dog in the middle of traffic. Unfortunately, she was unable to do so and the dog was run over and killed by a truck. She said she saw the missing dog flyer that my friends had posted all over the neighborhood. She recognized the dog from the picture, and she came by the house to tell us what had happened.

Dollie was a faithful friend to me and my Mom for 10 years. She is greatly loved. I want to thank all my friends who helped look for her last week and prayed for me and her. Because of all my friends’ efforts, we now know what happened to Dollie and why she did not come back to the house.

Dollie has been with me through some troubling times and many good times, and I will miss her. I had been away from her for two months. Since my mom’s passing last year, I had to leave her to take advantage of a good job out of town. I was planning on going back to Arkansas in a couple of weeks to bring her and Penny, my other dog, back with me to Minneapolis. My short contract here has been extended for six more months. I am so sad for her passing.

I do believe God blesses us with special friends in our lives who unconditionally love us no matter what. Dollie was that kind of special friend to me and my Mom during her life on earth. I honestly believe on the day she was killed my Mom turned around in Heaven and said, “Well, looks who’s here! Dollie, welcome home!”

To all my friends who have lost missing loved ones, if we believe there is a Heaven to gain and a Hell to shun, we will see them soon. Life on this earth is a short journey. We do not always understand why things happen the way they do. We also sometimes do not understand the timing of those events in our lives. Our faith and trust has to be in the creator of all things. No matter what happens we must trust God through all the heartaches in life. Through good times and bad times we must continue with our mission and purpose here to love one another. We are put here to help each other along the way. We must believe there is a time coming when sorrow, sadness, pain, suffering and death will be things in the past. For those us who put our faith and trust in God, we will overcome death and live in peace and joy in Heaven with our family and friends forever.

Dollie was an example for me of God’s unconditional love. She was his special gift to me in my life. I remember working in my home office many times and Dollie would come back and bring a tennis ball and drop it at my feet. I remember always seeing several balls there on the floor around my feet. When I would finally give in and say, “All right let’s go play ball!” I would pick up one of the balls and she would get so excited. She would bark and start jumping up and down and then run outside. I would follow her to our back yard and throw the ball for her. She would chase after it as fast as she could. Then she would run back with it and drop it at my feet, wag her tail and stare intently at me until I threw it again. I remember she would want to play for hours if I would let her. It did not matter to her if it was rainy or sunny. She seemed to say to me, “This is what is important to me, this is why God made me who I am, this is the true meaning of fun – being with someone you love, doing something you love to do and enjoying every moment of it while you can!”

I will miss you Dollie. Good bye best friend. I will see you and Mom again someday.

— James from Little Rock, AR

We have a wonderful orange cat. We named her “Die Hard”. Why? Well, because she was the only one of a litter of six kittens who survived. She was born in 1994, two years after I met my wife, one year before we were married. The cat’s mother, named “Surf”, abandoned her litter for some reason and they all died except for “Die Hard”. She was always kind of a “runt” meaning she was always tiny.

I’m a modelmaker by trade and profession (Yes, I actually make a living doing it! So, enough with the model-glue-sniffing jokes, Mark! LOL!) , and she couldn’t resist getting up on my work table and climbing into a box of plastic model parts! Cats love carboard boxes, but for some reason she likes cardboard boxes with model parts in them even more!

She’s travelled twice across Canada with us. Once when we moved to Manitoba from Nova Scotia in 1997, and once more, ten years later, when we moved back.

The poor thing seemed to use up most of her nine lives within the first few years. In fact, I think she actually carries a deficit of a dozen lives or so now…

One time, a few years ago, she’d been gone a long time. Unusually long. Several days. I thought we’d lost her. Then she finally returned. I was happy to see her but when I picked her up I noticed something terribly wrong… I turned her over and noticed the had a huge gash across her midsection from one side to the other, exposing her insides. She’d cleaned it up so the bleeding had stopped, but she was seriously wounded. The cut was a very clean and straight slice which went across 90% of her belly. We quickly took her to the vet and had her sewn up again. But it was clear, looking at the wound, that it was no accident. Someone had captured her and cut her with a knife, and then let her go, presumably to die. I’d love to get hold of the piece of filth who had done that to her, but I’d be thrown in jail myself then, I suppose. It’s disgusting that there are so many cruel people out there.

That was just one example. I won’t bore you with the others. But there were many others.

Now, at about 16 years old, her health is failing. She won’t eat, my wife thinks she’s in pain. She’s not able to get up on the table and climb into that box of model kit parts anymore. She can barely go up and down stairs.

I’m afraid we’ll have to put her down. Now, I’m torn.

I don’t feel it right that I should make that decision. Should I let nature take it’s course or should I have her put to death? I am going through some of what you, Mark, went through as you talked about in “Rescuing Sprite”. The thought is something I don’t want to deal with, to be honest. When I hold and cuddle her she purrs and purrs and purrs and seems to really enjoy the contact with me. Although she’s “our” cat, she’s actually more “my” cat, as she gets most of the love and affection from me. My wife is more of a dog person but she loves all animals. I love cats so much more. And Die Hard is my all time favourite, and she’s kind of been like a best friend. She’s always with me in my shop, and is like my alarm clock every morning too… Wakes me up at the same time every day!

She is the last in a line of cats that my wife started breeding when she moved to Nova Scotia years before. This wasn’t a cat we found and knew for part of her life. We had this cat since she was first born. When this cat is gone, it’s the end of a kind of a “cat legacy”, and can never be replaced.

The cat’s as much a part of my life as our kids are. My oldest daughter (we have two) is three years younger than Die hard.

At this moment, reality has not set in.

I am not looking forward to the next few days, weeks or months when some kind of action will have to be taken, or until nature runs it’s course.

I could use a few prayers for our poor little cat. When that little precious ball of orange fur goes to Heaven, I hope she’ll remember us as fondly as we remember her. Whatever happens, I just hope I do the right thing, and Right now, I’m not certain what that right thing is.

— E. James from Nova Scotia, Canada

I want to thank you for pouring so much of your heart and soul into your book about Sprite. My sister found it at our local library and thought it might help me as I faced a similiar crisis with one of my beagles called Peanut. It was difficult to read at one sitting and I found myself relating to the love and anguish you and your family went through with your beloved Sprite. I’d read a chapter and have to stop because of the tears as I found myself in the same position with Peanut.

May I tell you about her? I first saw her about six and a half years ago tied up in a neighbor’s front yard. I was walking my beagle mix, Smokie, and I walked up to this little runt of a dog to pet her. She was so excited to have some attention and she climbed up in my lap. I was shocked to realize how thin she was. It was like holding a bag of feathers! The next door neighbor came out and said the girls who owned Peanut left her tied up in the sun without food, water, or shelter. The neighbor reported it to the police, humane society, and dog warden but all they did was leave notes for the owner. (Needless to say, the animal cruelty/neglect laws in Ohio are archaic.) I can’t explain it but in those first few minutes I developed a deep love for that little dog and told the neighbor that if the owners wanted to give her up, I’d take her. That night the neighbor called me and said the owner didn’t want Peanut because she was too much trouble and I could come get her. I picked her up and, in the short time she was with me, I developed a bond with her I had never experienced with any of my other animals, although I loved them all.

Then, on September 2, 2009, after Peanut and Smokie came in from their morning ritual, Peanut collapsed without warning and went into cardiac arrest. Thank God I knew CPR and was able to revive her. I called my vet and he said they’d meet at their office ASAP. I rushed Peanut there and they immediately put her on an oxygen mask. Her lungs had filled with fluid and she was in congestive heart failure. I was stunned because I took my dogs to the vet regularly and Peanut had just been there 2 days ago. I felt so guilty. Had I done something wrong? Had I missed important signs? The important thing now was to pull her through this. My vet said her best chance would be an emergency animal hospital with a vet on duty 24 hours and an oxygen tent, but he didn’t know if Peanut would survive the trip. It was over an hour away in Toledo. I rushed her to the Toledo hospital and parayed she’d make it; she was struggling so hard to breathe. They kept her for 4 days and that time was a roller coaster ride. They told me to prepare to have her put down if necessary. She’d make slight progress and then have a relapse but Peanut is a fighter and I was finally able to take her home, along with lots of medications. I was told she could go at any time but she rebounded and I had high hopes that that her remaining time with me would be comfortable. It wasn’t to be. Even though I took her to the vet once or twice a week for check ups, and she was doing fine, Peanut became very depressed and lost her appetite the week after Thanksgiving. I took her to my vet and tests showed she was in acute renal failure. The vet said her levels were so high, the machines couldn’t even register them. She had a very slim chance so I told the vet that as long as there was a chance, to do what he could for her. I visited Peanut every day she was at the vets and again that feisty little dog fought back until her kidney levels were normal and I could once again take her home. But she was never to be the same. She went for a short walk one time after that and never again. She ate very little and eventually quit eating altogether. I had to force feed her medications, she got lasix injections 3x a day, and had to be put on IV fluids once a day. Even though the IV was extremely uncomfortable, Peanut never fought me on them. It was as if she knew I was trying to help her. As soon as she’d see me setting the IV up, she’d go sit in her spot by the IV bag and wait. Peanut did have some good days but her bad days were coming closer together. She was dropping weight and seldom slept because lying down made it difficult to breathe. I kept asking the vet if I was doing the right thing. He said Peanut would let me know when it was time.

The weekend of January 22nd, I was torn back and forth. Was it time or should I give the new medication she was for her nausea more of a chance to work? Was I giving up on her to soon? Was I prolonging her suffering because I didn’t want to let her go? Was I being selfish? I was so tortured with questions and doubts about what to do but that Sunday I noticed Peanut had seemed to drop a large amount of weight overnight and she was so tired but she couldn’t lay down. She would sit up and then her head would droop, her eyes would shut and she’d practically fall over in sleep only to jerk awake again and sit back up. Her eyes had lost their sparkle and she looked so sad. That night, Peanut tried to get up in bed with me which she hadn’t done before. I lifted her up and knew it was time. I stayed up with her all night, petting her and talking to her and crying. Finally, about 4 am, she fell over asleep onto the pillows I had placed by her. They helped prop up her head and shoulders to ease her breathing, although it was labored. I kept thinking about you and Sprite on you last days together and knew what you went through. It’s like your heart is being torn out. On that Monday, January 25th, after spending my last hours with Peanut, I took her to the vet. At 4 pm, our time together was ended. I thought I’d never stop crying. Peanut’s ashes are on my dresser and, like you did with Sprite, I’m going to plant a lovely tree in her memory. I’m also making a memory album about her.

It’s been 6 weeks and I still find myself missing her terribly and having bouts of tears. But I also have wonderful memories of a feisty bundle of energy, love, and companionship packaged into a small runt of a dog who God allowed to share her life with me, even for a short time. Thank you for letting me tell about Peanut and thank you again for writing Rescuing Sprite. I doubt I could have handled Peanut’s illness, battle, and finally letting her go if you had not shared your story.

— Sharon from Port Clinton, OH

This is my dog Poppy,she’s about 17 years old and is probably in the same shape as Griffin ie. her back and her rear legs are weak, lucky shes light in the rear. She spins around like your dog before she lays down,shes also blind and pretty much deaf but shes still kicking.She was a stray that my wife found in Queens NY, we’ve had her for most of her 17 years. In her day she was one tough cookie, she would show her teeth to other dogs and they would just back away, she actually did that to me as well when I met her but then she came to love me and I her, she definately had trust issues with people and with other dogs, but after a couple of days she’d usually warm up to people. She would never bite any one, she would just show her teeth if you tried to touch her and she did’nt know you; but if you let her be she would stand by you and not bother you. now shes pretty mellow and she lets any one touch her. Even though she is missing about 9 teeth, has bad breath ,can only see shadows, can barely hear shes still my” special angel’.

— Thomas in Malverne, NY

I was a bachelor in the early 90’s when I decided to get a pet. I did not have the time to care for a dog, so I decided to adopt a cat. Coincidentally, one of my employees had adopted a pregnant stray and she had just given birth. The day of the Kentucky Derby, my employee and his wife held a party and I was invited to come over, with the dual purpose of possibly selecting one of the kittens. There were four in the litter and I had my eye on one of the female tabbies. Then, the runt of the litter came over to me and plopped himself in my lap and stayed. I decided that I had been selected instead and decided to adopt him — I named him Jesse (after the then professional wrestling announcer Jesse Ventura — who would guess he would go on to become governor of MN?). My mother told me, “You’ll never keep that cat”. Jesse was very “dog like”. He would play fetch, follow me around the house, wait by the door until I came home from work, and even made sure he would be in the room when he heard someone praying! He would give head butts and sit on my chest at night when I was in bed. He adjusted to me getting married and then to the big change that occurred when we had our first and only child. He was just always a big (17 pounds at his largest), loyal and beloved friend. He developed a skin cancer, had surgery and pulled through it. At the end, I called the vet’s office to have him assessed for letting him go, but he went out on his own terms in my arms on January 21, 2009. I will never forget it — he looked at my wife, my son, and me. He put his paw on my chin, looked straight up and died seconds later. We buried him in the yard the next day and he probably had the best cat funeral ever. It is a wonderful thing to love one of God’s special creatures and they take the love you give them and magnify it many times over. I will always love and remember my special and beloved friend and hope to see him on the Rainbow Bridge. He was the best pet I ever had – he was special.

– Donald from Bethesda, MD

My husband and I were taking a walk one summer night in our former hometown of City Island, NY. We were passing by a person’s yard when we spotted 2 German Shepherds. Their owner happened to be outside in the yard. At the same time, my husband and I happened to be discussing the possibility of getting a dog. Being fond of Shepherds, my husband struck up a conversation with the owner who told us that he had some 9 week-old pups in the garage. We took a female home and named her Lana (italian for “wool”).

Lana turned out to be one of the greatest companions I ever had. She went with us wherever we went. She was such a good canine citizen because she had such a calm and regal disposition, and she was welcomed everywhere we went. She was great with children and was an excellent babysitter. There was a house across the street that had been vacated by some tenants who owned two cats and a dog. They took the dog and left the cats. I grabbed a ladder and pried a window open to let the cats out. I put Lana in the yard where she kept a watchful eye on them until the ASPCA could get them. When one would wander, she’d shepherd it back to the patch of grass she was laying on. Luckily, the cats were used to a dog. She accepted their purring and petting with calm aloofness.

My favorite time with her was walking in the woods or on the beach. She never needed a leash. I would just keep walking and she’d either run ahead or lag behind to later catch up with me…I got a ticket from the Dept of Parks because of not having her leashed on the beach on a cold, blustery February morning. Mind you, we were the only beings there. Fun Times.

March 19th this year will mark the 2nd year since we had to put her down. My husband came home to find her lying on the floor unable to get up. Her gums were white: a sign of internal bleeding. He rushed her to the vet where they fluid-resuscitated her, but she collapsed as soon as they brought her out. Since they didn’t have the means to treat her, my husband rushed her to an emergency clinic in Bedford, NY. I was at work at the time in NYC. I dropped everything and left. She hung on until I got there. Their differential diagnosis was hemangiosarcoma. She was bleeding from her liver. I knew it was hopeless, and the vet confirmed my feelings.

We have since adopted another shepherd whom we love very much, but the pain of losing Lana is still fresh. Each one is so very special in their unique way. Thanks for the chance to express my feelings. It is such a catharsis for me. And thanks for “Rescuing Sprite.” It is such a comfort to know that we do not suffer alone.

– Marisa from Ridgefield, CT