I’ve had dogs all my life. All breeds, mutts, mixes, and everything in-between. A few of those dogs were a little closer to me than most of them. However, when Riley came into our lives, him and I had a special sort of “connection.” It was like he knew what I was thinking and vice versa. He was always by my side but never in the road. Constant little companion who was always eager to please his owners and those who lived in his domain. Intensely loyal, loved everybody, and didn’t have a mean bone in his body. One day at the age of 6 he started losing strength with his hind legs. About the same time he started making little potty messes in the house, which was totally out of character for him. Long story short was he developed a tumor near the lower part of his spine and it was putting pressure on nerves causing him to lose feeling in his hind quarters and control of his bladder. We took him to Kansas State Vet school where he began treatment and it immediately shrunk the tumor. We agreed to continue treatment with the caveat he has a good quality of life and was not suffering. We were able to spend another 7 months with Riley before the chemo protocols were exhausted. Putting Riley down was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through-bar none! He is like my canine soul mate and though we put him down over 5 years ago, I still miss him dearly. I know he’s okay now and in a better place but when we put him down, a part of me died as well. It took me two years before I could talk about this in public because I always got emotional. To this day I visit his grave and thank God for letting me have Riley for almost 7 years. I’m a better person for having Riley in my life and so thankful for the days we had together. I only hope that when it’s my time to leave this earth, Riley and I will be reunited.

– Bob from Stanton, NE

On a “snow day” in the winter of ’69, me and Skipper went to “get the mail.” Getting the mail was an almost herculean event, even without the snow, because our mailbox wasn’t at the end of our driveway; it was “down the road” about a half mile along with the rest of the mailboxes for everyone in the development. So, it was a mile there and back even in summer. If the weather was nice, I’d either ride my bike or skateboard and Skipper, a stunning “black & tan” Gordon Setter, would shadow me (or me him…)… but not that day—it was winter; and the only way to make the journey was on foot (and paw).

The weather was bad enough for them to close school that morning but I seem to recall that by the time we headed out it had stopped snowing and the sun had turned the neighborhood into a wonderland—where every tree was bejeweled in what looked like shimmering diamonds and gems. But, the mail had to be gotten, and I was the one who’s responsibility it was to get it.

I was eight. Skipper was just about a year old and still “gangly”… and the ice and snow made him even more so, if it were possible. So we made our way to the “bank” of a couple dozen mailboxes and grabbed the mail. For reasons that defy explanation (besides the fact that I was disobeying a DIRECT ORDER from my Father), rather than simply turnaround and go back home the way we came, I decided to return home via “the pond”. Now the pond was a long natural body of water behind our house that ran parallel with the road that led to the mail boxes… There was a dirt path along side the pond that you could walk on but well, being “8 and all-wise”, and it being winter and all, I surmised that the lake was frozen—or so I thought. Mail in one hand, leash in another, we came to the edge of the pond… There was about as much snow ON the pond as on the ground, so as far as I was concerned, it was frozen solid, and we ventured out onto the ice.

So far so good. Beside the occasional “echo” that is produced and magnified across the entire mass—a sound you have to hear to truly appreciate, but it sort of sounds like a single heartbeat; we trekked across the “field” of untouched snow in complete silence. There’s a certain realization that occurs when you’re under the water, under the ice…and I was having that realization. I don’t remember exactly how long it was that we were walking before the ice simply gave way but a boy and his dog were in the pond. And it was cold… very cold… very, very cold; and there was not another soul in sight.

My dad was at work, my mom and three-year old brother were home, and me and Skipper were doing what we did every day… getting the mail—except today’s delivery was looking like it wasn’t going to get made. I do remember that I didn’t panic… I think the shock of the icy water made it impossible to think clearly because if I could think clearly, I would have been MUCH MORE scared… but Skipper WAS freaking out… he knew exactly how much trouble we were in.

The two of us in were in what might as well have been The Arctic Ocean… I’ll never forget the sound of Skipper yelping… it was otherworldly, but maybe that was because my head was going in and
out the water… He was thrashing around wildly, trying to get his paws on the ice… and at the same time, I’m trying to “scoot” myself up, onto my elbows—but no matter what I did, the ice kept breaking
every time I tried to pull myself up… we were on thin ice, literally, and it kept shattering as soon as any weight was put on it. And beside the ice, there was all the snow on top of it.

There’s no way to describe the feeling you feel when, in spite of your best efforts, you’re not making any progress…But then something strange happened… and every time I think about, I don’t know exactly what to think about it… but Skipper sort of climbed “up” my back onto my shoulders, and went right over my head and made his way onto the ice. He actually used me as “plank” and “jumped”. And I guess he knew what he was doing because whatever he did, worked, and he landed on solid ice. Then, the very next thing I remember is the pain. He bit me… and I mean “bit” me HARD—my shoulder bears the mark to this day… and RIPPED me out of the water… it was almost “angelic” if I could describe it that way… and in an instant, I was laying on the snow on the ice… I remember that Skipper wouldn’t stop licking my face… it was as if he were trying to “dry me off”… it was kind of gross… but I didn’t mind.

I knew I had almost died… and I was glad to be alive… but there wasn’t any time for celebrating… we were soaked to the bone and ice cold and still pretty far from home. There was no choice but to continue marching forward… and thankfully, the ice was strong enough to support us.

Later, I was to learn that the spot we broke through was closest to the “inlet”, so the constant flow “in” didn’t allow the water to freeze as fast there as elsewhere… Who knew? But, don’t think the “stay away from the pond” speech wasn’t playing loud and clear in my head every step of the way home… The thin ice was behind us and we ran the rest of the way to where our property began. It was easy to spot, even from the “waterside”, because it’d be impossible to miss the orange boundary line tape on the trees that my dad had diligently measured and marked—I’m pretty sure the Apollo astronauts could’ve seen all that tape from space. As soon as we were on “dry land”, we raced up the hill, scaled the ancient rock wall behind my house, and fled though the woods as if we were being chased by ghosts. We were freezing and Skipper looked like a giant version of a man’s iced beard— like on one of those explorers or climbers on an expedition… but it didn’t matter… we were alive and well and we were together. Not only that, but I had somehow managed to hold on to the mail… at least some of it. It turns out, that I had put the “letters” in my zipper pocket inside my ski jacket. But whatever I was holding in my hand at the time was gone.

The expression on my mom’s face was definitely one for the books. Suffice it to say she broke down when she saw us and no explanation was necessary. And the hot bath Skipper and I took together that afternoon was something I always wish I had a picture of—but I’m sure my mother would have done anything to “cover up” the incident and photographs certainly wouldn’t have helped in that endeavour. But there was no hiding anything from my father. The conversation that night around the dinner table started with the question “Why the hell’s the mail all wet?” and ended with me being grounded for 6 months. And I served EVERY day of that sentence; but I wasn’t alone—not for one minute…

Skipper saved my life that day and I knew it. What was weird though, and I can’t be absolutely certain about this, but it had always seemed to me that Skipper thought that I had saved his life that day… at least that’s what I think he wanted me to believe. Sometimes, I honestly wonder if Skipper was really an angel in dog’s “clothing”. Regardless, all dogs go to Heaven and Skipper will be the one wearing a golden crown.

– David from Hamlin, PA

I adopted Brandi from the Saint Bernard Rescue in the fall of 2001. She came from a home that fed her but otherwise left her in the back yard on her own. Saints really love their people. They want to be with you all the time. We spend Sunday’s on the couch watching sports together. She is always ready to go for a car ride or for a walk around the block. She greets me at the end of my work day with the excitement of a small child. Last year she was diagnosed with laryngeal paralysis. I almost lost her! This is a hardening of the larynx. With out proper function a dog can suffocate. She nearly did! After several phone calls and visits to veterinarians we found one that was in our area that was confident that their staff could perform the surgery. It wasn’t cheap. I couldn’t let my best friend suffer nor could I let her go. I knew from the time I first met her that she would always count on me to take care of her. She is doing well now and fully recovered from the surgery. I went to visit her after the surgery. She was so happy to see me. She made such a fuss that a few hours later the vet called for me to take her home. Brandi’s fur has grown back. She looks as she did before with small catch. She has only half a bark. One side of her larynx is permanently tied back which lets her breath normally. Now instead of a collar we use a halter which she thinks is just fine. Someday I know that it will be her time, but not for now. I cherish each day that I have with her as my best friend.

– Cary from Medford, OR

I’ve had dogs almost my entire life – all German Shepherds. They’re wonderful animals and when my husband and I married, we agreed that we would get another one. Then one day soon after we’d moved into our new home just north of Atlanta, I was painting baseboards when I heard the car pull up into the driveway. And then I heard, “come on girl – come on out.” As I looked out the front door, there came my step-son with a VERY DIRTY Yellow Lab in tow. While out shopping, they decided to adopt her. This was my very first Shelter dog. I must admit, I wasn’t impressed. She was extraordinarily friendly, but didn’t listen at all, wasn’t yet housebroken, and was a general nuissance! Then again, I was used to German Shepherds. I soon discovered that Labs are completely different animals. I wasn’t thrilled about all of this, but, after a few months of getting her used to our ways, I suddenly realized that it was myself who was getting used to her. Polly has been the most loving and wonderful dog I’ve ever had the pleasure to live with. She’s WONDERFUL in the house, never leaves our side, and is always ready to love anyone who comes through the door. She’s so at home with us that she doesn’t even wake up when I vacuum next to her – or on her! We moved back to Florida several years ago, and I work from our home now. Polly is 13 years old now and my business partner – always at my side while I’m on the computer, and always there with a paw in my lap when I need a friend. I often wonder how someone could have given away such a loving creature, because I can’t imagine my life without her!

– Suzzanne from Naples, FL

I just wanted to say that I enjoyed your story, “Rescuing Sprite.” It brought back memories of my dog “Sport.” I found Sport in the woods in the fall of 1996. Someone I knew was going to shoot him because he thought he was stealing chickens. He was covered in mud and his right rear leg was broken. I took him to the vet and the vet wanted to amputate his leg. I asked him what the other options were. He told me that he could wrap his leg in tape and hope that it healed alright. I told him to do that. He also told me that Sport was a Walker Hound and his markings were perfect. And that he was about a year old. He also told me that Sport was gun shy and that the other owner probably broke his leg and left him in the woods to die because he was useless to him.

I carried Sport home and cleaned him up. He was beautiful and kind. He limped around for a month or so. The couple I live with have chihuahuas and I think that he thought he was one too. He got to where he would go in and out the dog door which was low to the ground and just big enough for him to go through. It was funny. As his leg got better he would run around the yard like his leg was never broken. I am glad I made the choice to keep his leg. And he got to where he could fly through that doggie door. He was afraid of thunder and fireworks. One day it was raining and there was thunder. Someone came in the front door and out he ran. And he ran and ran and ran. I don’t know if he would have been able to find his way home. But I got in my truck and went after him. I found him and got him in my truck.

He was such a great dog. And he would pamper the chihuahuas. One even used to sleep next to his belly. To make a long story short. In the fall of 2008 he had an incident. I couldn’t find him. I finally found him in the back yard. He was lying on his side and it was cold and raining. I had to pick him up and bring him inside the house. I had a hard time getting him to stand up; but finally did. I dried him off. He was still shaking and his heart was beating real fast. I found out the next day that he had a heart attack. The vet also said that he was going blind. Which explained why he didn’t like to go outside at night. We have hawks and owls and I thought that maybe one had frightened him one night. Some of his favorite snacks were popcorn, peanut butter, and lemon flavored sherbet. I noticed he was having a hard time getting up and that his back legs weren’t steady.

He had another heart attack in late November 2008. I returned to the vet and found out he was almost completely blind and he had arthritis in his back and legs. Got some medicine and took him home. I knew the next time would probably be his last. So I really enjoyed the time we had left together. Then, about two days before Christmas he fell. I rushed him to the vet. His kidneys had failed. And I had to have him put down. It hurt me real bad. I had to sit in the parking lot at the vet office until I was able to drive home. I left him at the vets office. And never saw him again. I regret that I hadn’t planned for his death like you did. I wanted him to live and he still does in my heart. I still have dreams about him every once in a while and think of him all the time. I still haven’t got a new dog yet. Although I have recently been thinking about it. Thanks for writing your book Mark. It was the right thing to do. I haven’t cried so much reading a book in my life.

– Marvin from Jacksonville, FL

My wife and I have a story to tell. When I met my wife she had, and still has, a Yorkie. I grew up with dogs and wanted to adopt one of my own. We went on the local humane society’s web site and found the cutest looking German Shepherd mix. She was listed on the web site as between 4 and 6 years old and weighing 45 pounds. We don’t know what she was mixed with but what ever it was we were in love. We went to meet her and instantly knew that we were meant to adopt her, and she adopted us in return.

On March 6, 2004 we adopted that sweet little girl, she was sick right off the bat. Within a week of adopting her she was diagnosed with a severe case of kennel cough. I was out of town on a trip, I am an airline pilot, and my girl friend (now my wife) took her to the vet. Her breathing was very labored and she was not doing well. Our vet started giving her intravenous fluids and antibiotics. She made a good recovery, but, then told us that she was no where near the 4-6 year range the humane society told us, she was closer to ten years old. We didn’t care, we loved her.

Her next hurdle was a dental problem, she had four teeth that had been cracked in half. They were the long blade shaped teeth at the back of her mouth. They think that she was on her own for a very long time and she injured them while she was a stray.

We had a great first year, she loved going on walks with her new brother (the Yorkie named Hercules) and the two of us. We would walk along a converted rail line here in the Pittsburgh area called the Montour Trail.

A brief aside, while on one of these walks when I was again out of town she defended her little brother. Herc, as we call him had gotten into trouble. This was not unusual, he would go off into the tall grass next to the trail and on this day, he got bitten by something. We don’t know what it was but we do know that his big sister came to his rescue. She went into the tall grass and came out with the critter in her mouth. She wasn’t hurting it, she was just holding the poor thing in her mouth. My wife went over and tried to get her to drop the critter, in her attempt to do this my wife was bitten. Heidi dropped the animal and it scurried off, none the worse for wear. Meanwhile, my wife had to go and get rabies shots.

Just after that year mark we took Heidi into the vet’s office for her yearly appointment. We have a great vet, her name is Dr. Christine Mulliken. She remarked that Heidi seemed to have very dilute urine. She did some tests and it turned out that Heidi had renal failure. Not only that but due to the renal failure she had very high blood pressure. Dr. Mulliken told us that the blood pressure and the renal failure were tied together. That if we were lucky we would lower the blood pressure and the kidneys would recover. We were not that lucky. If she had complete renal failure we would only have another year with her. We treated both problems.

The blood pressure was the easy one, just a bit of medication and she was set. The renal failure was the hard one. We had to give sweet Heidi a liter of fluids daily, subcutaneously. This meant that twice a day we would have to stick her with a needle and put half a liter of fluids into her back, just in front of her shoulders. We were very fortunate that my wife worked at a hospital at the time and we were getting the fluids for a dollar a bag, the vet’s office was charging twenty times that.

For about six months things were going well, she maintained a great energy level and then she “crashed.” We ended up at the vets office pumping fluids into her and she snapped back. Things went well again for a few months. Then on Christmas she fell ill again. In the back of our minds we knew that the year clock was ticking, but, we could not give up on her yet. We upped the amount of fluids that she was getting and that helped her. She was now getting 1.5 liters twice a day, some days that went better than others. Three bags of fluid were a small price to pay to get her back on her paws. Then on the morning of our wedding, February 25, 2006 she crashed. We rushed her over to the vet’s office and they took her right in, we were known by all of the vet techs and vets by this point. Before the wedding we were both a wreck, as soon as the wedding was over we were both over at the vet’s in all of our garb. They did say that it was the first time that they had a wedding party in the building.

A week later we had to make the hardest decision of our lives. With both of us in the room, along with family and close friends, we gathered around her and whispered in her ear how much we loved her and we petted her as she went to sleep.

Her passing was a call to action for us. My wife and I now volunteer at the local Beaver County Humane Society. We have adopted three more dogs and one cat from the shelter. Thank you again for all that you do for animal shelters. We have read Rescuing Sprite and feel as though we have lived our own version of the same story.

This didn’t start out to be quite so long. We really loved that girl and miss her more every day.

– Keith from Aliquippa, PA