This letter from Jordan to Irma Cujo was written on Monday, May 17, 2010
Irma Cujo

Dear Irma Cujo,

You left so suddenly. They always said you had a heart murmur but nothing ever came of it. We played in the car as we drove home. You nibbled on your knuckles and licked my hand. But when we got home you ran up to your other Mommy and fell over. Within hours your heart failed. That is impossible, your heart was your strongest feature for you loved me.

Impossible, irrational, stubborn, difficult me. Irma, you loved me.

You have been gone 36 hours now. I keep seeing you. I am not sure why I see you. Buddy your big brother dog has realized now you are gone. He is confused. The cats are indifferent, but aren't they always.

Irma, you are my best friend. You went to work with me everyday. You kept me accountable for myself and life. When my MS acted up your look of compassion would encourage me to get up and play with you or take you out. Now what can I do. Today I stayed home from work and sat on my butt. I tried to nap. I tried to sleep but I would wake up and find myself looking for you.

I can't find you. I know you're here. You're in my heart and my mind. It's kind of funny, you had a lot of Facebook and Twitter fans, they all miss you. I guess your personality was just so big.

I am sorry for any pain you may have been in. I hope there was not much. I did what I could. I tried to kiss and love you every waking moment and had I known I can't say I would do anything different, the doctor said your heart was going to fail, I am glad I was able to spend my time with you. My only wish was we rescued you when you were 7 or 8 and I only had you 6 years.

I miss you so much my very best friend.

Love,

Jordan

This letter from Mom to Teddi was written on Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Teddi

Dear Teddi,

I miss you terribly! Every time I look at your puppy pictures, I remember the wonderful times we had. When I look at the later pictures, I remember how awful it was for you in the end. So, I want to remember this and not those. I want to think of you with a smile, not a sob. Some day, that will happen. Some day, I will be able to think past missing you... maybe. Some day I will only smile when I think of our years together...maybe. Until then, I just let the pain flow and the tears fall. My throat tightens and I can't see. One day, this won't happen and I'll still remember the good days. One day.

Missing You,

Mom

This letter from Mom to Teddi was written on Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Teddi

Dear Teddi,

I can't believe it has been nearly two years that you've been gone. It feels like forever that I've missed you, yet it feels like just yesterday that you were with me. I still tear up when I think of you every day. I miss you more than I ever thought I would. Does that sound bad? People tell me that I should get another dog and you know I've always had a dog in my life, but I just can't do it. I feel so disloyal. 15 years is a long time to develop a relationship. You knew me for who I am and we accepted each other with all the quirks and difficulties.

I always felt that I didn't fight enough for you - with the house situation. I hated that. I mean, I know I fought to get you - and nearly lost a lot in the process - but I allowed him to decide things that I didn't agree with at all. I wish I had been stronger and been able to fight. You dealt with it like a champ - never making me feel guilty (even though I did) and never making me start an argument. But I wish I had. I wish I had fought tooth and nail to change your situation. I'll probably never forgive myself for that. I know you were happy and lived like a true and natural dog, but I wish things had been different. I wish I could've spoiled you with pillows and beds and toys all over the house. I know you had a huge dog house and your own fluffy bed, but I know you were lonely at night. I'm so glad I fought for you in the end. I'm glad we spent so much time together and I certainly didn't care if he felt neglected! He never would understand the relationship people have with pets. I think he has forgotten being a kid because you know he had pets all over the place. But he never seems to feel anything anymore.

I think, because I'll never forgive myself for not fighting harder for your situation, I could never bring another pup into our lives. I couldn't do it again. I couldn't watch someone else make those decisions. I'd probably end up divorced. And worse, I'd feel disloyal to you. I mean, if I can fight now, why couldn't I fight for you back then? I'm sorry I couldn't. Because I love you now as much as I did then and it still hurts so much that you're gone. I'll never forget you, Teddi and I don't know if this hole in my heart will ever heal. I miss playing with you, walking on the hill with you, sitting out in the sun with you. I miss watching you patrol the yard as you listen to the critters. I miss it all. I'm so stupid that I virtually foster abandoned and orphaned dogs who look like you. If I can't have you, at least I can try to help other babies who need someone, like you did when we met. I'm glad I fought as hard as I did to get you into our lives. The boys were so blessed to have you while they were growing up! All of their memories include your smiling face and flowing tail.

I love you, Teddi. That rainbow bridge poem is so beautiful and I sure hope to see you again one day. I know most people don't think that dogs have souls, but I think God has dogs in heaven. I really do. I don't care who thinks its stupid. I hope and pray that I'll see you again soon.

Love,

Mom

This letter from Papa to Django was written on Monday, May 3, 2010
Django

Dear Django,

Here's a letter I wrote about you when you left us last year...

"Sometimes I Want to Howl

I remember the night we brought Django home to live with us. It was in late February of 1998 . He was seven or eight weeks old, confused and scared. We had the advantage of not being confused but I was scared about the responsibility we had decided to take on. It was going to be up to us to care for this little life and to teach him the things dogs need to know.

We had him in the backseat of our little Volkswagon Fox, in a borrowed cat carrier stuffed with soft towels and a dog toy the breeder had given us to help reassure our little pup. The toy had been in the pen with the rest of Django's family and so it was covered with scents familiar to him. Gina was driving us home through the dark and I had a small flashlight so I could check in on the puppy. My first vivid memory of Django is of flashing that light into the carrier and seeing two frightened baby blue eyes peering back at me. I was hooked.

Over the course of the next 11 years I would often look into those eyes which had turned a hazel green by the time he was one. I took something from the trust that I saw in those eyes. Django knew he was a part of our pack and that he was safe with us. There was no place else he wanted to be but with us. That was a comfort most of the time but heartbreaking too when we had to leave him behind so we could travel.

As he grew older and less able to move around it seemed his despair at being left behind grew more and more intense. Now, we're the ones left behind and as I try to come to terms with the reality that I will never look into those eyes again I sometimes feel like howling at the top of my lungs until he comes home. That's what Django would have done for us."

I still miss you buddy.

Love,

Papa

This letter from Your girl to Mickey the Dog was written on Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Mickey the Dog

Dear Mickey the Dog,

Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. Maybe I should be "over it" by now but you were my boy and so I guess I am not. It's been more than five years now since you left on a new journey. Sometimes I can see you in my mind's eye sitting beside me. The only difference now is that mostly I think of you and smile rather than cry. But I sure do miss you.

I hope I provided you the life you wanted to live and gave you all the love you desired and needed...So that your next life would be even better than this!

I miss you Mickey. You were kind and compassionate and always ready to lend an ear and a shoulder to cry on when I need it. Thank you for being there.

Love,

Your girl

This letter from Kate to Ernie was written on Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Ernie

Dear Ernie,

It's so difficult to believe its almost been one year since you've been gone. I want you to know I still cry sometimes because I miss you and that if I could have anything in the world, it would be to have those years before I knew you back right now. Seven years just wasn't enough, but I sure am glad I had them. I got a new little buddy who was born on the day I lost you, I thought it was a great thing because we could celebrate you and him on the same day. His name is norman and he's silly pup, you would probably tell him to buzz off. When I think about you, I still remember the way it felt to pet your fur and I imagine you smiling and running around chasing after the carpenter bees like you used to do back in New Orleans. I know we'll see each other again one day, but just know that you're in my thoughts all of the time and you will always be my old man best friend.

Love,

Kate

This letter from The Pack Leader and the Girls to Callie and NIkki was written on Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Callie and NIkki

Dear Callie and NIkki,

And this goes out to ALL of my friends who took great care, and continue to take GREAT CARE, of MY GIRLS... I owe you a world of gratitude, and love, for keeping them safe and happy. Whether I was heading out to sea, exploring the seafloor in a little submersible, locked in the NR-1 nuclear submarine, diving with the whale sharks and Manta Rays, flying to Hawaii or London, or simply exploring the streets of Philadelphia, New York City, or Lancaster, PA, I always knew you were SAFE....And thought of you often.

Anything else in this world is a relatively minor detail...

Love,

The Pack Leader and the Girls

This letter from All of the Weavers to Callie, AKA the DINGO was written on Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Callie, AKA  the DINGO

Dear Callie, AKA the DINGO,

We miss you IMMENSELY... The 4 am wake up calls. The barks that sound like they are coming from the rabid beast from hell... Knowing you would guard this house from harm and intruders if it took your last breath... Your heavy panting all night long while laying on the tile floor next to my bed. Loving Little Scarlett and newly adopted Brown Dog Molly like they were your own. Teaching Molly the truly wonderful experiences in a dog life... Chasing every squirrel that tries to steal the bird food, and rolling on your back in the grass during the mid Day sun... she does both very, very well, but has yet to catch one of those furry tailed buggers, like you amazingly did three times... I am glad you went peacefully, and lived your 11 years to the absolute fullest... At 44, you are a reminder that I must do the same. Mom, Aunt Suzie, and Linda arrive here in 8 hours, after an early flight. Although it has been almost a year since you left, they all miss you and wish you were still here. This house will always be a safe heaven for family, friends, and stray hounds. And when we go to the beach, wade in the surf, chase the shorebirds, and sprint in random directions as fast as possible, we will wish you were still here. Dingo, you and Nikki were the greatest companions a mortal human being could have ever asked for...We will love you both dearly forever.

The Pack Leader,DCW, the Bigeye Thresher.

Little Scarlett Weaver

Molly Brown Dog Weaver

Love,

All of the Weavers

This letter from Jilly to Patty-Cakes was written on Monday, April 19, 2010
Patty-Cakes

Dear Patty-Cakes,

The 17 years I had with you were the best of my life. Devastation doesn't even begin to explain what I felt when we had to let you go. You were a constant calming presence in my life. I loved everything about you, even when you got loose and wouldn't let me catch you. I even loved that you would never let me take your picture. I loved sharing my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with you. I miss being groomed by you and how you wouldn't let me leave if you were still itchy. I miss hearing your knicker each morning. Lady has your stall now... and she whinnies to me every morning... but it is not the same. I love you with all my heart and I'm glad that you aren't sick anymore. But I miss you very much.

Love,

Jilly

This letter from Your friend and Mommy to Pepe was written on Monday, April 12, 2010
Pepe

Dear Pepe,

The past week has been one of the worst periods of my life. The house is so quiet without your barks--and my whole world feels so empty without you in it. But I know that I do have to carry on without you. As I write this letter to you, I am trying to turn a corner: I hope to move away from the darkness of the grief, sorrow, and anger, and instead find a sunnier spot in which to honor your memory.

I'll never forget that moment when you and I first met. There you were, sitting in that cage, waiting for the next chapter of your life. I felt a connection to you as soon as I looked into your eyes and at your sweet face. You spoke to me immediately, and insistently. I didn't think I wanted a third dog, but you were able to convince me otherwise. You just could not be resisted. Making you a member of my family was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

You brought such joy and happiness to my life. Thank you. Your endless devotion to me enabled me to survive the loss of Kelsey. When she left us, you helped me see that I could go on without her. Now that you are gone, I hope that the remaining members of our family can do the same, as I struggle through your absence.

You were, and will always be, so very special to me, Mr. Peeps. I will forever miss our errand-running trips--I'll never get into the car and not think about you sitting right next to me, and not long for those special times we shared, away from the others.

You were my little drama boy, yet such a tough guy--way too big for your britches. If I can find just a sliver of your spunk and bravery now, for myself, I know that I can get through the loss of you.

I know that you are still here with us now, in some way, and that you will always be. But I wish that I could touch your soft fur, and see you again: sleeping on your bed, rolling around on my bed, begging for a bite of my dinner, running off with your chewie, laying in the warm sun, zooming around the cul-de-sac, or hear your greeting as you welcomed me home. For now, all I have is these wonderful memories of you. And they will have to do. Until we meet again, and I know we will. I love you, Pepe, Little Sheriff. You are so precious.

Love,

Your friend and Mommy