This letter from Mary to Benny was written on Monday, April 9, 2018
Benny

Sweet Benny,

Dear Benny:

I remember the day I brought you home from the shelter. After that lady returned you because you wanted to sit on her lap. You didn't like to be alone. But who could blame you, four different homes that we knew about. It took some time but slowly your separation anxiety got better, but it was always there. I wasn't about to pass you around like all the other's. Who better to adopt you then the Shelter Manager.

Remember, all our wonderful walks together. We walked a lot. You would sleep with Mommy every night.

You never , ever, once growled or try to bite anyone. You were the sweetest thing ever. You loved everyone. Just wanted to be with your people!

People tell me you were much LOVED by me.

People tell me I did the right thing.

People tell me everything dies.

I MISS you little buddy!

You were never, ever, a bother to me. We were together for over 14 yrs. I never gave up on you and I will always LOVE you!

And Benny...don't forget to say hi to Raja and Kitty Cat....oh and Radar.

Love,

Mary

This letter from Grace to Humans was written on Saturday, March 17, 2018
Humans

Dear Humans,

<written from my dog's perspective>

I'm tired. I have been for a while now. I'm probably around 12 1/2 years old and the last year has been different from what I'm used to. I wish my back legs would work like they should. I like the harness, but I'm sick of having it on 24-7 if I'm going to be honest. And those blasted head twitches and jolts that make me zone out? Ya, I'm over it. My parents have tried everything, but the thing is, I was never officially diagnosed with anything so they never knew what was going on.

Today especially, I'm tired. It's not because my dad took me on a slow walk so I could pee on my favourite spots. It's a different tired. It's hard for me to move from spot to spot and that's what I do because I can't get comfortable and relax anymore. My parents even have a blanket under the tree I used to dig around, but we've been laying there while I sleep instead of dig. They've been talking a lot on the blanket - for days. And they cry for a bit too. I've known things have been different for a while.

Today, I finally settled on my mat in the front room. I just got comfortable when Faith walked in. I had met her before. First was when she helped my Berner BFF, Zoe, to cross some bridge. She was nice and gentle; I remember that. Then a few months ago she stopped in just to see me. I like her. She understood me from the first time we met. The funny thing is as a rescue, I was rough around the edges so my mom named me 'Grace' because I needed some. And now here's 'Faith' because we ALL need some.

I didn't really move when she came in the room but I didn't have to because she came right over to me and rubbed my head. She was calm and had a good energy. It felt good. She went to set something up then jackpot! My parents came into the room with a burger and a pint of ice cream. Just. For. Me. For real. They came down on the floor with me and fed me a piece of burger then I had a few licks of ice cream. Then burger. Then ice cream. Faith came back into the room and I got super tired and literally fell asleep with my tongue licking the ice cream. It was awesome. Then I slept. A type of sleep my parents had wished for me for the past while. A great deep sleep but I could still hear my parents. My dad was sad. More than I've ever heard him but he was saying super nice things to me. I'll always remember. Then my mom put her eye on my eye, which is something she always did and said some stuff to me that she always said to me at bedtime. I'll take that with me where ever I go.

Then I don't really remember what happened. My body went but my mind stayed. Weird. But that's all I need to be near my parents. I can still hear them and see them in my mind. When they talk to me, I talk back.

But guess what? I'm not tired anymore! I'm running around, neck-wrestling with Zoe and peeing on all sorts of things. I missed this.

Whatever my parents and Faith did sure did work. I feel like myself and that is happy.

Love,

Grace

This letter from Your Dad, Wayne to Mercury was written on Thursday, January 18, 2018
Mercury

Dear Mercury,

I said goodbye to Mercury today.

You were a few months shy of nineteen. I have been so blessed to share so many wonderful years and adventures together, every day loving each other more than the day before. We were inseparable for nearly two decades, bonded soul to soul. Your life was long and happy and filled with love. We didn’t waste a single second of our life together. As heart breaking as it is to not be able to hold you in my arms, I'll hold you in my heart and talk to you every day in my prayers till we're together again. You'll never be alone.

As you cross to the next adventure your eyes will be clear and see for miles, you’ll be strong and run like the wind again. The sky is always blue and the sunshine warm and bright on fields of flowers. Your sister Stella will be waiting, wagging and barking to see you. Grandma will greet you with a big smile and take you in her arms and spoil you again. And, in what seems like a just a minute to you, but a painfully long time for me, you’ll look back over the rainbow bridge and see me smiling and waving, coming home to all of you. This isn’t our end; it is the beginning of our next adventure.

You taught me to see the wonder in life and the beauty in nature. You were my heart and my soul, my teacher and my muse, my friend and companion. You showed me the importance of a kind soul and a generous heart. Thank you for the lessons. Thank you for your love and devotion, thank you for the laughter, you filled my life with meaning, you filled my life with joy. Thank you for teaching me to love so pure.

In the end I held you in my arms as you drifted off to the gentle caress and soothing voice of the person you loved with all your heart and who loved you with all of his. Tenderly passed from my loving arms to the wings of angels.

Love,

Your Dad, Wayne

This letter from Sam to Toby was written on Thursday, December 7, 2017
Toby

To Toby,

It's hard coming up on the holiday season. I see the treats I always bought you in Bulk Barn and I know how much you loved this time. You got more treats and more pets than usual over Christmas and I'm sorry last Christmas was your last and none of us knew. Everyone calls their dog a good boy, but you were THE good boy. The best boy. You were just... amazing. I don't know if I believe in reincarnation or souls. But if I do, or if it's real, I hope you come back in some form to this world, because you were such a pure, vibrant being and I hope someone else can experience that. I'm glad I was with you until the end. I'm glad it was just you and me. You were and always will be my best friend. I'm sorry you couldn't be the ring bearer at my wedding like we wanted, but I know I made the right decision for you and I hope you understand that too. I love you old man.

Love,

Sam

This letter from Vineca to Tia was written on Saturday, November 18, 2017
Tia

Sweet Tia,

Every day I am reminded of your unconditional love that touched so many lives for so many years.

Without warning, illness attacked you virulently. Our veterinary team worked hard to turn this specter of death away, and I had only one wish.That you would not suffer. That our love would extinguish the flames of a cancer that gave no rhyme or reason.

As I held you close and your last sentient breath filled the room, and your warm body became heavy and still, I knew that you were finally free. No more pain, no more suffering.

Your gentle nature never failed to keep the focus on the only thing that ever matters — love. And this is forever.

Love Always,

Vineca

This letter from Mom to Galileo was written on Friday, October 20, 2017
Galileo

Dear Galileo,

My dearest, sweetest angel. This is the first day after our formal grieving period of 49 days, and I want so much to be better, to be more at peace. To be able to write the perfect letter that captures all the blessings bundled up in you. And last week, I began to feel the grief softening just a little, just enough to make it bearable; this, I told a friend who was kind enough to check in with me to see how I was doing. I have been through this kind of loss twice before, when your brothers have had to move on. I know it does, in fact, get easier to carry on; that the waves of sadness still come, but there is more room to breathe between them. But, it seems, I still have such a long way to go until I get there. However, I didn’t want to put off writing to you because I know, no matter how long I wait, I would never be able to put into words everything I wanted to; and I know writing today is going to be an integral part of the process in strengthening my sense of connection to you under these new circumstances.

Yesterday, for your Day 49 – the Buddhists’ notion of how long a spirit may take to navigate the Between – I wanted to honor your journey, as I did for your brothers at the end of seven weeks’ time. The usual toast with a bit of bubbly was a given. Lighting a candle at the cathedral. But I had the idea to ask your Dad if I could go up in the airplane with him (and his instructor) for his flying lesson. This way, I thought, I wouldn’t have to wait until I got my wings to fly with you. Your dad had his own idea about you as a future co-pilot, so I knew this would resonate with him as well in his own way.

Your wings. Remember how I called you our Angel-in-Residence? How I said all your peanut butter-colored freckles marked the kisses of your angel-friends when they huddled around you to say goodbye for a while, right before you left heaven to become part of our family? How almost every day without fail I thanked you for giving up your wings another day to be with us? How I would stroke your “wing spots” as part of our daily meditation together? And marvel aloud at the iridescence in your white fur: so sure I was that this mirrored the shimmer of colors in your dazzling white wings hanging in heaven’s closet and waiting for your return? How I assured you Pushkin and Otis would dust off your wings when the time came for you, and would meet you with them right away when it came time for you to go back? And how, when your legs were crumpling on you in the last month or so, I’d told a neighbor you’d be OK because, in heaven, you had the most beautiful, strong wings. I’d told her – borrowing Grandpa’s term – in heaven, you are a “fast flyer.”

So, I believe you’ve been soaring since Day 1, as soon as your brothers showed up for you. No need for any time spent in some bardo… not for you, already an angel. I believe that the three of you are together again. That you are getting to know Pushkin now, who is healthy and youthful, just as you are again. You are once again right at brother Otis’s side. And that both of them are so proud of you -- their baby brother, all grown up: just like the day all three of you were together for your “debut” at the dog park in Tucson. I can still so clearly see the three of you there, and I believe it’s a lot like that in heaven now; and somehow, in your heaven, I’m standing nearby just as I was on that day. I believe all of this, admittedly, because I have to… I need to. But that’s OK.

In addition to the daily reflections and meditation practices you and I have been practicing together for years, I’m nearing the end of an extra 33-day series of reflections that came my way pretty much right after your time came. A bit of miracle that yesterday’s theme – on your special day -- was “knowing”: the difference between believing and knowing something. Each morning when I lay my hand on you while we breathed together I would say, “Do you think I love you or know it? Because you have to know it! Long after your brain is gone and it can’t think anymore, you have to still know it.” And so here we are still practicing this ongoing sense of connection. Someday, my spirit also will be free of its body; I too must know – must trust – that our connection is forever. Which is why your special song – the one that, whenever you hear me singing it, you know I am singing solely to you -- is “Our Love Is Here To Stay.” Oh yes it is. Know it.

Now that 49 days have passed, I know there needs to be a subtle shift in how I’m approaching the day. I am feeling the weight of having to move forward. I’m still here. I’m trying, Galileo. Today’s extra reflection was about “oneness” and letting the heart open in order to more fully experience our connection with someone. I always have called you my heart-chakra canine kid, so again the timeliness of today’s focus is a bit of a miracle. (Yes, I will continue to be someone who looks for miracles in my day, for signs that you and your brothers are with me and that you remember we are a family, no matter how much time passes.) Inspired in part by today’s practice, I want to promise you that I will work hard to clear distractions, to quiet the mental chatter, to reduce external chaos -- specifically so that it will be easier for us both to feel each other’s energy and love. The importance of being present: one of the lessons you and your brothers have taught me and continue to teach me even now. And the joy that can come with it.

Each morning while you were with us (eleven years, three months, five days), I thanked you and God for another day with you. Another day, another gift. That is still true, even if we now have to spend our time together a little differently. I will try not to lose sight of this truth as I continue getting used to how our relationship must now evolve. You are a gift – then, now, always. Joy. My precious angel: fly happy, fly free! And look over your shoulder: see me right there with you. That is my prayer. Lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu. Om shanti, shanti, shanti.

Love,

Mom

This letter from Mom - Denise Belcevic to Pepper was written on Sunday, July 9, 2017
Pepper

Sweet Pepper,

I cannot begin to put into words the devastating loss I feel after having to make the decision to let you go. The words the doctor whispered, "she's gone mom" haunt me each and every day. I know that you needed to fly from your little broken body and move to a place where you could chase baby bunnies until your heart's content. Your departure was so unexpected and too soon. With time, I pray the hole in my heart and soul will be replaced with the joy we shared. I miss you my Pepper-oni, my Schnoodle-doodle.

Love,

Mom - Denise Belcevic

This letter from Uncle James to Argos was written on Monday, April 10, 2017
Argos

Dear Argos,

I'm so sorry that in a few short hours, you will take your last breath. You were such an amazing companion to my sister. You protected her and fought off the two dogs that attacked you both while out on a walk, you were there for her when most of her belongings were stolen, you moved with her all the way to nowhere Kentucky and you simply loved her with everything you had. You put up a good fight for the last year between having part of your jaw removed and chemo, and despite the health issues you were always happy and adapted like a champ. It hardly seemed fair when you started to limp a couple weeks ago and they said the cancer had gotten into your hip. We were told a removal of the leg would cure you, but then discovered the cancer had spread to your lymph nodes. I wish I could take it away buddy and you'd be here for a few more years like you should have been. I'm so sorry but unfortunately, I can't. When we open our homes and our hearts to a pet, we promise to love you and care for you but just as important, we promise to know when it is time to let go and not put you at risk for more pain or suffering. While you were in good spirits yesterday, keeping you here longer only puts you at risk of breaking your hip and being in immense pain. I'm glad I could spend some time with you and say goodbye. Tomorrow, your mom keeps her promise to you and upholds her part of the bargain because she loves you so much. You mom will be incredibly sad but I promise Alex, Grandma, Grandpa, Sophie, Katie and I will watch out for her and we will all think of the good times with you. Tomorrow, you will get to see Abby again and meet Maggie, Ace and Max. Tell them all we miss them and love them still. You have been such a good boy, we will all miss you terribly but now you can go softly into that gentle sleep, you deserve to rest now. You gave everything you had. Thank you for all the love, affection and joy you gave to all of us.

Love Always,

Uncle James

This letter from Daddy to Hero was written on Wednesday, February 15, 2017
Hero

Dear Hero,

Since you crossed over yesterday the grief that I feel is indescribable. I'm so sorry that you suffered so much in the past couple weeks but we tried so hard to make you well. You were so brave till the end. You know we loved you no matter what and we thank you for being in our lives for the last 15 years. Mom and Joy and I and all your friends miss you so much. Our house is so empty now without you sitting in your little bed looking over at us ! There are so many beautiful moments we shared I can't list them all. I really miss you licking my face and just holding you next to me. All the places we went and all the walks we went on we're all special times for us. You used to be so stubborn and wanted to be the leader when we walked ! But that was your personality and that's what made you special. You used to love to go on car trips especially when we would go to Temecula and the park ! And we would always stop at el pollo loco and get your grilled chicken ! It's so hard to think of going there without you. I know you are in heaven now and watching over us. And I know when it's my turn to cross over you will be waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge and someday we will all be together again. Knowing this is what keeps me going on without you here next to me. Joy really misses you Hero. She loves you very much. Anyway I will write you again when I can think more clearly. It is hard to write with so many tears in my eyes. I love you so much Hero and I know you know that. I will talk to you soon "Lil He"

Love,

Daddy

This letter from Mommy & Daddy to Bijou was written on Monday, January 16, 2017
Bijou

Sweet Bijou,

It's only been 3 day's since I last held you in my arms & you took your last breath. With all the kisses & hugs I could muster up your passing just devastated Dad & I. You were our special boy, we went through so much together. You so helped me through my Cinnamon's passing. We adopted Blossom who was 6 mos to the day younger then you. You both just made our lives complete! My cancer & your ear canal's being removed. We were a pair, but we helped each other. You helped me through my cancer but I feel I failed you. The Lymphoma pill didn't work, the radiation didn't work, we started the chemo (palladia) pill it didn't work. You lost control of your back legs, we bought a (wheelchair) cart for you & you couldn't balance, you could stand to go outside even with us helping you. We washed you dried you, fed you & most lovingly loved you unconditionally as you did for us! Our home is empty, Blossom is not sure where you are. We are so sad, we miss you so much! I hear Dad crying in his office & in the the bedroom. He hears me crying everywhere. I'm not sure how we will go on without you. You didn't just take a piece of our heart, you took all! Dad love to spoil both of you, he loved you sitting by his chair during dinner & putting your head under his arm while he ate! No matter what I said, your manners I could not curve! We started to allow you 2 to sleep with us. During the night you would shimmy up to Dad's pillow & put your head on that pillow, Dad would turn his head & get a big wet kiss from his boy! Bijou, we so loved that! I loved you sleeping in between, it was just too cute! My sweet boy, you have no idea how much our hearts are broken. I miss you so much & every time I thing the tears have stopped, the flow starts again. I can't even think of driving back to CA. without you sleeping on my lap pretty much the whole trip (Blossom was not happy with that). You loved the stops at McDonalds for your egg & the hamburger's for lunch. That special treat we did when we traveled with you both. I cannot say good bye, it's too hard! We love you buddy, our little beastie boy!

Love Always,

Mommy & Daddy