This is Bree. A beautiful dilute Calico. She was playful and mischievous. As a kitten, she stole my socks out of the hamper and would walk around the house carrying them in her mouth. She loved Christmas tree ornaments and would sometimes be seen halfway up the tree sleeping amongst the branches. Once I found two ornaments left as “presents” in my bed. I will miss her playful running around sounding like a herd of elephants. I’ll really miss the quiet way she purred that required me to put my ear on her belly to hear it.–Leona Livingston

It has taken me a few years to get to this, but I am hopeful that by sharing Sweet Pete’s story, I’ll offer my memory of him some rest. It would be an gross injustice to say that Sweet Pete haunts me, but “what could have been” still causes my heart to ache on a fairly regular basis.

My family was kayaking on Easter and we found him near the river. Covered with ticks and fleas, his teeth were worn to nubs from flea biting his entire life. He was emaciated at about 40 lbs. — way too thin for a German Shepherd. He was an oldster, probably well older than 10, my weakness, and he had the kindest eyes. We all fell in love.

When we took him to the doctor to find out why he was listing to one side, we discovered he had a brain tumor. It was tough to see in detail, because the buckshot in his head and neck obscured the view on the radiographs. On day two with Sweet Pete (named after the Easter Bunny) we knew he needed radiation treatment, which the docs said might buy him six months of health.

Determined to give Sweet Pete six months of what he always deserved, we decided to treat him like family and give him a fighting chance. Through 12 weeks of treatment he gave us back these gifts:

He snuggled all night with my teenage daughter.

He protectively shepherded my 2-year-old granddaughter, keeping nefarious characters (our other dogs and a gang of roving chickens) far away from her.

He let us see him learn to play.

He let Charlie-cat boss him around.

He always appreciated my cooking.

He defined, for our whole family, what the “perfect” dog is.

On the twelfth week of treatment, right before his final radiation visit, he started to have severe seizures from the radiation (a known risk) and we had to euthanize him during a trip to the emergency clinic.

Was it worth it? Can 12 weeks of eating buffalo burgers, getting to sleep in a little girl’s bed, running on the farm, and being flea-free make up for a decade of suffering (plus 12 weeks of radiation treatments)? I don’t know the answer, but I do know that he was a good guest in our life and would have loved us and shepherded us with dignity and gratitude as long as he could have.

Now, two years later, my biggest problem is that Sweet Pete unveiled the truth lurking in the rural woods surrounding our affluent community. And that, not Sweet Pete, is what haunts me.–Betsy Banks Saul

Sadie was one of those dogs who was friendly to anyone and everyone. She had a very energetic personality that would brighten up anyone’s day. Sadie, a Brittany Spaniel and a hunting dog by nature, loved to run around the back yard and playfully bark and point at all the birds and animals that would walk or fly by. She was always very alert and aware of her surroundings, which made her a perfectly family dog.

At such a young age, I never felt unsafe while I was around her. Sadie was my partner in crime, always by my side. She even helped me eat my ice cream cones! I remember clear as day, on a hot summer afternoon when I was in my back yard playing on my wooden play set, minding my own business eating my vanilla ice cream cone … Sadie came over
and helped herself to the rest of my ice cream cone. I was really angry at first, but then later realized she was probably just trying to help me when she noticed that more of the ice cream was dripping on me than ending up in my mouth.

After that day, Sadie eating my ice cream cones became a weekly thing, but I didn’t mind.

To this day I still miss Sadie. She was the first dog that I remember from when I was growing up. And I was definitely her favorite out of everyone in my family, which clearly explains why she only liked to eat my ice cream.

Though Sadie is no longer with me today, she lived a long, wonderful life, and passed at the age of 15. I cannot wait for the day that I have a dog of my own just like Sadie, to share experiences with and enjoy the friendship that comes along with having a companion just as energetic and fun-loving as Sadie. It has been many years since Sadie’s passing, but to this day, she always holds a special place in my heart.–Allison Michelle Vergara

The first time I met Penny, a pudgy, 2-year-old Beagle mix whose family no longer wanted her, I was a lonely 26-year-old living in the cold northwoods of rural Wisconsin, and she HUGGED me. She jumped up on my lap, put her front legs around my neck and pressed up her body against mine. I’d never met a dog who gave hugs, but it turned out to be pretty Penny’s signature move, and it instantly endeared her to me.

Not long after I took Penny in, I began to understand why her former family — who had just left a simple, “free to good home” note up in a local business — had wanted to part ways with her. Having been adopted from and returned to a shelter several times, Penny had developed severe separation anxiety. When I left for work, she jumped out of a window and through a screen to follow me. When I tried crating her, she became so distraught she broke her teeth on the door. I worked closely with a compassionate veterinarian on holistic remedies, like exercise, distractions and training, before finally resorting to medication to help ease her nervous mind.

As we worked through this, Penny and I became very close. She came to work with me at the newspaper, gnawing on a bone while I filed my stories. She went on a road trip to Ohio with me. We trudged through walks in the never-ending snow. She snuggled next to me at night, and she even woke me up once when my bloodsugar was dangerously low (I have type 1 diabetes).

Penny died as a result of a tragic car accident, less than one year after she came into my life. She taught me so much about what it means to be a devoted pet parent, and how to help others whose pets are dealing with separation anxiety. My friends, who had been touched by Penny’s hugs and gentle disposition, gathered for a memorial service. She is buried under a flowerbed in Ashland, Wis., and the memories of her loving hugs will always be in my heart.–Karen Hollish

I adopted Sashi from the Providence Animal Rescue League when I was in college. She was more like a person than a dog. She would look at you intently when you were talking and really seemed to understand what you were saying.

We had a lot of adventures together and she was a great judge of character. She was very mellow and responded to very subtle voice commands. I always had trouble getting her back from dog sitters because she was such good company they always wanted to keep her.

As she got older, she developed severe mobility problems with her hind legs, due to arthritis or degenerative myelopathy. One day when she was 14 she woke up and could not stand at all. She looked in my eyes and seemed to be saying, “Please make it stop.” When we got in the car to drive to the vet, she immediately relaxed. She passed away peacefully in my lap. She was my doggie soulmate. I’ve had other great dogs since her, but she was that once-in-a-lifetime dog I will never forget.–Emily Fromm

When I adopted my Boxer-Lab mix, Luckie Boy, eight years ago, I had no idea the kind of true love that I would be given. I quickly found out how tossing a ball and running in the park with my new furry friend could be the best time spent.

A few months ago, Luckie developed a bone tumor in his nasal cavity. The news completely devastated my family. Over the next few months, the tumor grew — it created a bump on his head that got bigger as the days went on. His breathing became heavy and he started getting nosebleeds.

His personality changed too; he became withdrawn. This week we made the hard choice to put him to sleep. While the decision was hard, I find comfort knowing that we gave him a wonderful life and that he blessed my life with true unconditional love.

As we move forward as a one-dog family (although I don’t think that will last long — our five-year-old Lab, Scarlett, seems lonely and has been looking for Luckie), I am truly touched by the support of our friends and family.

People have given us flowers and cards, and made donations to the Petfinder Foundation in Luckie’s memory. I’m reminded how many lives my little black dog touched. I’m also reminded what a great way a donation is to honor a pet’s life.–Lisa Robinson