greyhoundlov

Oh, Steph, I can't believe she is gone. Big hugs to you and your family.

I can't write anything so I will share my feelings from last year: Goodbye, my love July 17, 1995, our lives were changed forever. We brought you home from the track to foster you over the weekend, but we knew that you would never be adopted or be a pet in the normal sense of the word. You were so spooky that you hid in the corner during turnout or whenever people came to look for a dog to adopt. We never knew your age because you had no tats, but in November 1994 the vet estimated you to be about 2 years old. You were found November 28 so we made that your birthday. You hid in our closet and for the next 10 or so years, ate, slept – literally lived – there. Ten minutes after we arrived, we called the adoption office and told them we were keeping you. That began the 12 ½ year journey that has brought us to today. We knew all about you from our friend in adoptions – how you had been found running loose, how you were starved (you weighed 32 pounds when they found you), how you had heartworms, and how you had a fractured pelvis that had already healed. You were adopted by a couple of ladies who lived in Galveston, but you never really bonded. After you escaped and were on the lam for 2 weeks during Mardis Gras, they decided you were not the dog for them so they returned you. By then you weighed 40 pounds. I remember going to the vet's office once a month for a weigh-in and how excited we (vet and staff) were when you reached 45, 50, 55, 60, and 65 pounds. Your dad agonized for hours because you were so deathly afraid of him. He would spend time every day in the closet trying to make you understand that you were safe with him. It broke his heart that he would have to hide so you would come out to go potty. One of his biggest thrills, and one of the funniest memories we will always treasure is when we went on vacation to the beach at South Padre Island. I woke up one morning thinking, oh, boy, Bob has really bad morning breath. When I opened my eyes, Bob and I were looking at each other over your head. Evidently during the night you had jumped on the bed and somehow snuggled under the covers. There we were, three heads on the pillows. China Blue, our bridge angel, turned out to be your mentor/rock. She is the one who taught you to be brave when we went out front on the leash. She is the one who taught you that walkies were good things. She is the one who taught you that cat food was good but that kitty crunchies were even better. When she crossed the bridge, you were heartbroken and grieved her a lot. Dad didn't want to get another dog, but he made the mistake of asking me what I wanted for Christmas. Enter Gidget, the brat. Even though you two don't have a close relationship, you got along and it made you happy to have another companion. The last 2 years or so you began coming out of your shell. Dad and I were thinking that maybe as your hearing got worse, you trusted Dad more since you couldn't hear that gruff, loud voice. I can't begin to tell you how special you are to me. I don't know if it is because of your rocky start in life or if it is because you loved me so much—I truly do not know. I do know you are my love, my baby or, as the vet used to call you, my Fraidy Freddy. Your dad is suffering as well. He has been your main caregiver for that last 3 years because of the various surgeries I had, and he loves you so very much. I knew this day would come. I just hoped against hope that it would be later rather than sooner. Letting you go is so painful, but watching you suffer and lose so much weight is even more painful. Your coat is still shiny and bright, but your eyes are not. Last night when you got on the dog bed by Dad's feet, we knew. You never got on those dog beds, especially not near Dad. October 5, 2007, our lives were changed forever.

Oh, crap.

When I lived in Arizona, I had Orkin come once a month. We had black widow spider webs/eggs hanging from the eaves, inside holes in the ground, in our brick fence - everywhere.

OMG, Carolyn, I can't believe it. I'm so, so sorry.

She waited for her mommy to come home.

Bonnie - in your place, I would think about his quality of life right now. If it is good, you wait.

Oh, no.

I cannot believe Jeff is being sent to charm school. You know he doesn't need it - he is already soooooooo charming!!

I know people are sick of me saying this, but my vet says people who give their dogs rawhide are his best customers.

What made it so difficult for me with Freddie was that we scheduled his euthenasia. With other pets, you take them to the emergency room or the vet and they are sick or whatever, but you handle it right then and there. We had an appointment to kill him. At my house. Was he ready? Yes. He was gone in less than 5 seconds. Does that make me feel any better? No.

Bread for sure. Cotton balls?

Oh, Liz, I'm so sorry. August 2008 has been awful. August 2007 was also awful. Maybe we can figure out a way to skip August next year.

I'm sorry this happened, but I would rather have him be under a doctor's care over a holiday weekend than at home and having something happen. I probably wouldn't have known one kind of fluid from another.

I just can't believe this.

Wonderful update.

How is she doing?

I can't find the words. My prayers are with you, Mike, Andy, and Jillybean.

Oh, Tam, I'm so sorry. Meer is in good company - my kitty angels Bootsy, Fred, Wilma, Kitty, Beau, OJ, Squeak, Alex, and Tammy will show her the ropes along with her best pal who was waiting for her..

That is such wonderful news. Thanks for the update.

Oh, Judy, that is wonderful news.

Phew!!!