Dear Bear,

It seems surreal that you left us just over 3 weeks ago. I can still remember that day in 2007 when your daddy and I went to meet you at the Toledo Humane Society. I was so against going, but so grateful that we did. The years that followed with you by our side will forever be remembered.

You sure were one crazy dog!! Do you remember making us chase you around the neighborhood because you had some extra spunk? Looking back, it was probably funny to watch! Or the time we took you camping and made you "king of the log"- you had so much fun that day! I remember you running out into the yard in the big snow storm, then crying for me to carry you back in. You knew I would do it, you silly dog! You were always the center of attention when we'd have people over the house in college- you knew people were there to see you (which is probably true)! Remember when I tried to shave you up like a lion? Okay, okay, it was embarrassing!!

You used to get into arguments with dogs who were bigger than you- especially at the park! I remember when you tried to charge at a dog twice your size- you definitely had some little man syndrome haha! That all changed when we brought home Brutus- you and him were buddies from the beginning. He sure misses you! He won't leave my side, much like he never left your side the last week or so you were with us.

Scarlett isn't sure what to do- she is on a power trip, but still sniffs for you daily! You two ran the house (and probably caused a lot of trouble when I was at work). She misses you too, and cuddles in your bed every night!

Kuro is learning the ranks, and even reminds me of you! You know how you would lay on your back and hold the ball between your paws, or pounce like a cat at a rolling tennis ball? He also takes over the corner of the couch, not the middle- just like you! I see a lot of you in him, and it makes me smile!

Daddy wasn't here to see you off, but he was happy to see you before he headed overseas. He misses you too, you're his buddy! He comes home just before Christmas, and I had a special gift made just for him-your paw print. I know he will love it!!

I learned a lot from you- trust, strength, patience, and companionship. You had all of that with me, and I'm sorry that it wasn't until just a few years ago that I had all of that with you. You enjoyed testing my patience, but at the end of the day you knew I would forgive you. I trusted you- remember when you tried to warn me that someone was messing with my car, and I was upset that you kept carrying on? From that moment on, I knew to trust your instincts. With your dad being in the Army, I looked to you as my companion- we'd watch movies together, eat dinner together, cuddle at night, and you'd always listen. You taught me last year about strength- you fought through 2 major surgeries, several trips to Dr. Daters, and chemotherapy. Even with all of that, you still stood tall and never gave up- that's what I admire most about you!

Dr. Daters wanted me to let you know that you are still his buddy, and an inspiration to quite a few other dogs at the clinic- they all miss you! Jenny, Alden, and Adela miss you too! I'll see them all in a few weeks at the Woof-Woof 5k.

I sure do miss you sweet boy! It's not the same getting out of my car and not hearing that loud "woof" followed by a few short cries of "mom, hurry up and come see me". I miss having you lay in the bathroom with me as I get ready, or groan when the other dogs wake up extra early in the morning to go outside. I am very excited to know that you no longer have to take medicine- you hated it!! I want to thank you so much for everything you taught me, all of the memories you gave our family, and finally, for choosing us to be your family!

We love you Bear!!!!

Love,

Mommy, Daddy, Brutus, Scarlett, and Kuro

Dear Alice,

I probably should have told you much of this long ago, but like so often with those we care about, I never got around to it. I don’t know if you would’ve cared that much, because we just cruised day to day, and it was clear that you were mine and I was yours. Still, sometimes I think you felt that you needed to prove your loyalty, when you really didn’t need to. I knew it.

Everyday we would wake up, and the first thing was your breakfast. You needed breakfast before you went out – so I fed you immediately, worried that your bladder was about to burst. Fortunately, you always ate in about 10 seconds (or less), and then gladly went outside. I loved to see you in the morning – our routine, so easy and so dependable. You smiled every day. But when I left for school, your eyes were so sad. I thought of you throughout the day, and couldn’t wait to get back home, to make sure you were okay. And you always were. The best dog. The perfect friend.

Sometimes you went to school with me. The art students were very sad to hear that you were gone. Jeremy wanted you to know that he always thought of you as the Mother Teresa of the dog world, the way you’d make your rounds cheering up and bringing happiness to the poor and frustrated art students. And Samantha wanted me to tell you that you were the sweetest, most cheerful dog person she’s ever known. She remembered how students would squeal with happiness when they rounded that corner to the painting studio to find that you were in residence that day, and you never once failed to share your infectious smile with anyone lucky enough to be around you.

You and I hung out with Kona and the rest of Laura’s pack, and we met new friends, Oslo and Oliver. When you were younger, you dove into Lake Cumberland, and snored hard after a long day of swimming. Even then, you were sometimes sore, but you were tough, because having fun was so worth it.

On the day we got you, I was skeptical. Someone had allowed you to get fat like a big licorice jellybean. But you caught the ball like a major league catcher, never once stopped wagging your tail, and you were so calm, and so quiet. I connected with your eyes on the porch that day, and there was no turning back. Later that night, I knew that I was smitten.

And although you were nearly perfect, you did the occasional bad dog thing. You ate white oil paint – tube and all. The house had white paw prints everywhere. And when you were getting x-rayed at the animal hospital in the middle of the night, the vet literally chuckled at what a beautiful barium x-ray you had. Later that week, there were those stay-puff marshmallow piles left in the backyard. I didn’t care at all --- I was just so glad you were going to be alright.

Alice, my beautiful girl. I love so much. I’m so sorry you hurt those last few days. I would’ve done anything to make it go away, to make you not suffer. Thank goodness, Maureen and Courtney helped both of us so much. Without them, I wouldn’t have known what to do. They came to us like angels. That says a lot about the kind of dog you were – when friends and even total strangers would give everything they had to ease your pain.

I miss you so much. I think I just always thought you would be there – every day. My house isn’t the same without you. The quiet is too quiet. And Wylie misses you, too. Everyone here misses you, and I know they hope you are in a dog park in heaven or on a cloud somewhere hanging out with all the other loved and missed dogs.

Remember not long ago, when the art students put the unicorn horn on your head. Although you weren’t’ feeling so good, that made you smile. All of us smiled the day you became a unicorn. So, most likely, when you’re not at the dog park in the sky fetching your soggy tennis ball, you are probably with your fellow unicorns.

And I know from now on, I will have YOU to thank for all the rainbows in my future.

Love,

Mom

Dear Teddy,

You passed over to the spirit world a week ago today and mommy is so lost without you. I know grandma is holding you and you're playing with Pebbles and Princess. You can run as fast as you want, play with your toys as much as you want and without coughing. And you can eat as many greenies and Happy Hips you want, without any problem! Also, I know you will still bark if Princess tries to take your cookies from you.

From the moment I saw you at just six weeks old, you stole my heart instantly and made your way into my soul where no other has. Mommy can't see you but I dreamt of you last night and the night after you left your body, mommy saw you laying at your favorite place at the foot of our bed. Sometimes I can hear you bark, whine, or cough. I know it was hard for you to have the surgeries you did on your trachea but you were such a fighter and beat all the odds with the help and grace of God. Mommy always prayed to God to get you through the surgeries and God always answered my prayers! You and I had 13 unforgettable years together.

I miss you and love you more than any word in any language could explain. My sweet little boy, please don't be sad or scared because mommy is right here for you, always. I thank you for the gloriousness of your pure unconditional love. And know this, one day, mommy will meet you in heaven and we will never be apart again!

I love you with my entire heart and soul, my baby Teddy bear. Please visit me in my dreams so I can hug and kiss you.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Zelda,

Zelda and her Bonnie and Clyde companion Jack got captured on the lam by the local cops while veering back and forth between McDonald's and Wal-Mart. Scheduled for euthanasia, their mug shots got featured in the local newspaper prior to the July 4th holiday.

I extended to the shelter designated vet an offer he "could not refuse…"! I would "spring" for neutering (Jack!) and spaying (Zelda!) in addition to the battery of shots for each "convict" plus de-worming -- the entire nine yards -- rather than the doc receiving the obligatory, paltry euthanasia fee that would have transferred from city government to veterinarian. My bill totaled over 400 bucks...and that was a dozen years ago!

I brought post-operative "patient" Zelda "home" first. She had an endearing quality of utter submission, rolling onto her back and lovingly gazing at humans while batting her seriously Ginger Roger-ish eyes. Charming! However, her first evening on my back porch, she disassembled every board game, lamp, padded chair, and window treatment within her grasp. Vandalism at its very worst! I decided to teach her that the opposite of "submissiveness" is NOT a rampaging romp by Attila the Hun, via my instruction and encouragement NEVER to roll over again. I felt like a "dog whisperer" extraordinaire. At the height of her bi-polar behavior, I decided to name her "Schizophrenia" which my friend JoEllen advised against. Thus, "Zelda", the sadly nutty wife of F. Scott Fitzgerald, stuck as the perfect nom de plume…the perfect designation under which she would write L-O-V-E into our lives and across the sky for a dozen years to follow! Yet, she developed into an amazing ALPHA dog worthy of a novel!

In a couple of days, strapping, muscular Jack and clueless Susie left the vet's never really having ever been officially introduced to one another…I might as well have been Santa Claus being drug across the heavenly horizon by Donner and Blitzen and Rudolph and all of them there reindeer combined with a team of huskies as well! He positively sailed once we exited the door, and the two of us careened allll over the parking lot…me at one end of the flimsy leash and he -- in all of his massiveness and his happiness to be "free at last" -- at the other!

Long (happy) story short, Jack and Zelda enjoyed a dozen years joined at the hip…together they formed an exquisite Remington sculpture…they HAD to share vet appointments -- none of that "one at a time" stuff-- or they would sulk and pout and whimper…they were so strong that once Don and I were pulled across the vet's office floor while sitting in our respective chairs in the lobby. Iditarod, here we come ! They were one. LIFE was good.

Gorgeous Zelda, the Alpha dog with the schizoid name, impressed us as a model of graceful serenity as the years fled by…then one sad day, she indicated that her life was nearing its conclusion. I gave her a gentle bath, and we petted her and scratched behind her still-perked up ears. She could no longer stand. We lifted her into our car, listened carefully to the veterinarian's advice, knelt down on his tiled floor on either side of her and held her and kissed her as the needle injected whatever chemical concoction it is that terminates life forevermore. The "rainbow bridge", a man-made concept for coping -- IF one buys into it -- does not, for me, describe the hereafter but the NOW, in other words, the "bridge" being our gift in real time of many quality years of nurturing and of being nurtured by a beautiful being.

Whenever rain falls upon our roof, or thunder rumbles, lonely Jack paces the length of the back porch, quietly whines, paws at the door alerting us that Zelda may still be outside in the dark…that we forgot to bring her inside to sleep alongside her companion of so many years, her playmate, her best friend. I pat his head and offer him a soft blanket and a pillow and speak to him with assurance that Zelda sent me to spend some time with him and to make sure he is comfortable. Her name on my lips calms him. Now, how about that?

Love,

Susie Duncan Sexton

Dear Jasper,

It's been a little over 2 months since I last kissed your nose and said how much I loved you, as you licked my face saying you loved me too. Everything happened so fast and I had no idea we were losing you in the next few days. The pain was getting unbearable for you and the vets couldn't help you,the bone cancer had spread to far. 13 years was still to short of time to spend with such a perfect dog, my heart is so empty without your snuggly kisses and hugs, laying in bed with us at night and greeting us at the door when we came home from work, and most adorable was you greeting us when we brought you a doggie bag when we were out eating dinner, your front paws always jumping 3 feet off the floor while barking for us to hurry up and give it to you. I have many memories of you and when I think of them, the tears begin. Maybe in time the tears will turn to laughter and joy, but for now it's emptiness and sorrow, that to I hope will change because now your in heaven and that awful pain is gone.

I hope you had a good life with us, because it was the best 13 years of our life having you!

Love,

Daddy

Dear Chancer,

It's been a year that you're gone, baby. It hurts still, so much. You have left a big hole, baby, and I never stop thinking of you and missing you. I wish I could believe that you are happy somewhere. How could a heart so empty feel so heavy. I can't believe the tears still come so easily.

If proof of how much you were loved is measured in how much you are missed, then you have to know that we loved you so very much.

Chance, you were the best. Remember how you took care of KT when she first came to our home? She is real sick, baby. Will you take care of her again?

I love you angel.

Love,

Mom

Dear Dexi,

It’s been almost eight months since we lost you. After you died, I saw you everywhere in the house. Every shadow was your black body, every noise was the clicking of your paws on the hardwood floor. After I while I stopped looking for you, but I’m still sometimes stunned you’re not there.

I miss you, Dexi. You were such a good girl. I remember seeing you for the first time 12 years ago, in the shelter kennel. You were surrounded by dogs who were barking and jumping, trying to get the attention of the people walking by. You were quiet, regal, composed. You looked at us with your sad brown eyes and your floppy black ears. And we just knew we belonged to you.

I have so many memories of you, pictures of your happy and healthy days. You, running off leash after a tennis ball in Nichols Park, so joyful to be alive and free. You sharing your big dog bed with the cats, all three of you licking and grooming each other. You, under the covers with me, warm against the Chicago winter night. You, gentle with my sons, enduring well-intentioned petting and endless attempts to pull your tail. You, jumping with delight at a toy dangled above you.

And I remember the end of your life, too. You stopped getting up when I came home. You didn't come upstairs. You tolerated your special food, designed to minimize damage to your kidneys. You grew thin. Your eye bled, and then your nose. The smear of blood on the living room wall, where you bumped your head because you couldn’t see. The drops of blood on the pavement as I took you to the vet four days before you died. Your skeletal frame in my arms, as we waited to be seen by the specialist. Your cries when they brought you into the room where we waited, to say goodbye. The blanket you died on.

I don’t believe in God or heaven (though I still cry at the kindness of the offer, from the vet who euthanized you, to pray with us for our loss). Instead, I think you’re everywhere now, and a part of everything. I’ve tried to see you, for instance, in other dogs who just need someone to give them a chance.

For many months after you died, we didn’t talk about getting another dog. Your absence was too heavy and your departure too recent. Time passed, and it became easier to imagine that we might fill the void you left behind. We brought home a new dog last week, Dexi. We named her Sushi. Like you, she’s a black mutt who needed a home. She will never replace you—you’re too hard an act to follow—but we need to open our hearts again. The pain of losing you was terrible. And it hasn’t gone away. But your love and companionship made it worth every tear. If she is even half the dog you were, it will be worth it again.

I think you had a good life. I hope you agree. You were loved.

Love,

Melissa

Dear Sammie,

It has been just over a week since we lost you and just over 10 years since we found you. What a loving and joyful dog you were! I am struggling with the guilt of the way that we lost you, the operation that didn't save your life and mostly the fact that I wasn't with you when you passed. Knowing your loving and sweet disposition, I recognize this as my stuff not yours. I have a hard time thinking of one particularly happy memory of you because every day you found ways to enjoy yourself and share your enthusiasm for life. I love that in the last year or so you discovered the joy of belly rubs and could just relax and enjoy them instead of trying to trade every scratch for a lick of my face. Two of your most endearing quirks were the "flop and roll" that you practiced on almost every walk, kicking your feet in the air on your back and bringing a smile to the face of people driving or walking past. The second was what we referred to as the "snappy snap" where you would snap at your tail, left side, then right when you were feeling excited or trying to engage us to go for a walk, let you out so you could chase a bunny, feed you. The range of that move decreased as you got older due to your stiff spine, but you still used it regularly and it always made me smile. You knew nothing about living in the house or walking on a leash when we found you. Teaching you to walk on a leash was an eye opening experience for me. You were so impulsive and so strong! You would break my arm for a pizza crust! You taught me many lessons in patience, in finding the key to motivate you (food, duh!), in trying again. You were the first and sometimes the only pet in our house to welcome a foster brother or sister. You invited them to play and would let them snuggle with you. You had a very maternal streak. I wonder if you had puppies before we found you. By far the most important thing you did for us was to teach our socially inept existing dog how to be a dog. You knew just when to push her, just when to back off and your ability to make friends with a dog we thought would have to be our only dog, earned you a spot in our family. We were lucky to have you. Who ever your first owners were who lost you and never came looking have know idea what they missed out on. Love my Sammie, miss you every day.

Love,

B

Dear Casey Jane,

You left on December 19th, 2011 with such grace, dignity & peace.

I miss you terribley, my little gal, but know you are in a better place.

You changed my life and I will be forever grateful to you for showing me your unconditional love.

You were always my best friend, my little buddy, my "Casey Baba".

You were my trusted confidante, my snuggle buddy, my pretty girl, my Bichon sidekick, my daily walking partner and my love...always, always at my side.

I hope I cared for you enough and showed you how much I loved you each and every day we had together...from the day you walked into my life, at almost 3 years of age, on June 10th, 1998 until the day you had to leave, just a few months past your 16th birthday. I held you in my arms that December morning, close to my heart where you belonged, with my face buried in your soft fluff and let you go.

There are so many things I remember & miss about you. Like saying "breakfast time" and "supper time" each day and seeing you get all excited, or getting ready for a bike ride and putting you into your own seat as you stomped your little paws in anticipation, the times you rode on the seadoo with me, your little ears blowing in the wind, or how your ears flapped up and down when you ran, and the way you snuffled in the sand and rolled in the wet grass...I even miss your snoring!

I will always be your loving mama and will never forget you.

Until we meet again my sweet pea. Thank you.

Love,

Tammy xox

Dear Kittie,

I never thought about writing a letter to you until today when i read it in a magazine. I thought it was the best idea. You were my companion for 20 years and when I had to put you down it broke my heart.

You didn't have the best life. You were so timid and everything that came along seem to scare you. We first lived with my mom and my sister's children those children I think used to torment you terribly when I wasn't around to protect you. Then we went to live with my boyfriend and he loved you. But you were my cat and you really never took him. Then we left my boyfriend, and we moved to Sacramento and we stayed with my friend for two months. I can only assume that this was quite unnerving to you because there was a cat and 2 dogs in the house and you had never been around animals since you were a baby. Then we moved back to Washington and we eventually settled in our on place about a year later. We were here until it was time for you to pass on.

The last year I could see was pretty hard for you. You slowly lost your site and had kidney disease which required you to take pills and get IV fluids on a daily basis. I am so sorry it took me so long to figure out you wouldn't leave me without my helping you.

I tried to make up for all the trauma that you received living my life by spoiling you rotten. I know of no other cat that would get a Costco chicken every other week. Even after the doctor told me that you had to be on special food I still gave you the chicken because I figured it was better that you eat and enjoy it in the time you had left them to starve to death.

I miss you so much Kittie you were my companion through 20 years of my life. You loved me unconditionally and I miss our time together. Now I am alone and I sometimes think maybe I should get another cat. But, I think I will never have a companion like you. You were so good to me and you endured so much living my life with me. I miss our cuddle time. I miss when I wasn't feeling well and you knew and tried to make me feel better. I miss your long-haired getting in my crochet projects. I miss your playfulness. I miss watching your sleep. You used squeak when you slept it was so funny. I miss you kitty! I love you so much! You will always always be my companion and tlhe love I have for you will never go away. I know i will see you again because you are my family. For now Heavenly Father will watch over you. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

Love,

Shannon