When ask to contribute an article for the Pet Loss Support Group use I initially said no. My grief over my personal loss is still very real and alive within me.  Upon reflection I think my Annie and Danny would want me to say something and contribute rather than remain silent so here are some thoughts I'd like put out there for all who may read this. By the dates you can see how long it has been since they have not been with me; 12 years for Annie and 4 years for Danny.
   Individually both these losses were painful. Together they have been emotionally devastating for me for years. I think we all go through the periods of what if's. What's my part in their passing? Did I do enough? Did I do too much? Did I wait too long to put them at rest? Was the wait for me or for them? And on and on the questions come and go. Quite frankly I don't have an answer or even a clue to any answers to these questions or questions like them.
   I do know that my loving companions went with grace and dignity and were no longer in any distress or pain. I do know that Annie and Danny loved me and would have wanted me to take advantage of the services offered by the Pet Loss Support Group to cope with my pain of loss, which I chose not to do. Loss is a very deep and personal experience and feeling for me and I don't share it easily. For me it works but it is not the smartest thing I do.
   I've waited and my Annie and Danny finally, 2 yrs ago, brought me a new love to share our mutual space and time on this earth with. Her name is Gracie and a true joy she is.  Ginny Brown

   On November 1, 2009, All Souls Day, a perfect day to celebrate his remarkable soul, Gunnar left us after losing a yearlong battle with lymphoma. Gunnar coped so well with chemo, pneumonia, and rare skin eruptions from drugs, I renewed my hope each day that he would triumph over this deadly disease. If any dog could, Gunnar would.
   A strong and handsome 8-year-old, Gunny knew how to do life – and each day he taught me how to do it. He had endless energy but Gunnar was also patient, calm, tolerant. He could stand outside for hours, mesmerized by invisible, cheeping baby birds. Or wait patiently while dinner smells tortured him.  If a doggy disagreement seemed imminent, Gunnar walked away. He was the anchor dog, our rock.  Gunnar also showed me how to appreciate every day, every moment with him. He loved to sit motionless, watching the flames dance in the fireplace or to scan the landscape from a hill when we hiked. Sprinting through a field, scaling boulders, snooping out a new scent: pure joy for Gunnar.  Gunny, the most loving dog I’ve ever known, buried himself deep in my heart. Every time he climbed into my lap to nuzzle or kiss me, to snuggle on the couch, or when he claimed his bedtime spot next to me with his head on the pillow or resting on my chest, I learned about unconditional love.
   Every day that he lived with cancer, courageous Gunny taught me about not giving up. As lymph nodes in his neck grew to the size of eggs, he just shifted position to be more comfortable. Even though he grew weaker, he kept running and scrambling on hikes. When his breathing became labored and he could barely sleep at night, Gunnar continued stalking squirrels with the other three dogs or shadowing me wherever I wandered.  His spirit never waned, not even during his last few days when his body couldn’t fight any longer. Finally he surrendered, deciding it was time to go.
     Gunnar was a priceless gift who gave joy and inspiration each day.  Although he is no longer with me physically, his soul is still connected to mine. He will forever be in my heart.  Gunny Boy, I still see you leaning with your head out the car window, ears flapping in the wind.  With boundless love and gratitude for all that you brought to my life, thank you.     Judy Phillipe

Let me tell you how I came to adore Jessie Girl.

     My son, Casey, asked me to keep Jessie until he moved into his new home. I immediately fell in love with her gentle ways, loving personality, and playfulness. Jessie was a wonderful dog who stole my heart. She played with the grandkids, swam in the creek, and brought out huge river rocks in her mouth. She loved her rocks! Crazy about the snow, she’d run along side the snow blower catching the spray of snow in her mouth. Her extended stay became such a blessing.

     A year later, she started to change. Normally obedient, Jessie wouldn’t respond to voice commands. A neighbor called saying Jessie was at his house and seemed disoriented. Soon she developed violent seizures, became withdrawn, in a stupor, completely lost and very ill. Numerous tests, including MRI’s, were inconclusive. No diagnosis was ever made. We never knew what was making this beautiful creature so desperately ill.  My sister who is a vet, a dear friend, and I poured our hearts into Jessie's constant care and prayed for her health to return. But all our love and care could not change the final outcome.

     Three months into her disease, my husband finally did what we could not bring ourselves to do. He put her down. He couldn't watch her struggle any longer. He had seen us take turns driving hundreds of miles to exchange Jessie for our week or two of caring for her.  He observed our hours of struggling to help her and the heartache it was bringing each of us.  I know he did it out of love for Jessie and for us. It was a huge adjustment but needed to be done. We would have just kept trudging along, hoping for the best.

     I miss her to this day, and thank Jan and Ginny with all my heart for the unselfish hours they spent caring for her.  And I thank Casey for sharing Jessie with me. He loved her also.

     Love you, “Jessie Girl”, you were AWESOME. Thanks for sharing a small part of your life with me. I cherished it.     Paula Cox

   Tammy was my first dog, and my constant companion as a young girl. She was very sweet, gentle and loving.  We went everywhere together, inseparable. For years she was my 4-H project where I learned all about dog care. I write this tribute to her because in life and death, she was my inspiration to become a veterinarian.
   After having 2 litters of pups, Tammy was spayed at a ranch outside of town. When returned to us, she had a massive infection, was extremely ill with vomiting and lethargy, and almost died. I vividly recall the red spongy swelling and yellow pus oozing from her incision. As I watched my mother nurse her back to health using poultices and TLC, I knew what I would be when I grew up.
   When I was 15 Tammy, at 7 years, became acutely ill with pancreatitis. She received great care by a new veterinarian in town. My mother and I nursed her at home. But a week later, at night when I was alone with her, she died in my arms. I remember that night as if it were yesterday.  Afterwards I was consumed with grief so deep that I couldn’t eat or sleep for days. I couldn’t go to school. I didn’t want to see any of my friends.  My parents tried to console me. But I felt isolated in my grief. I wanted to know if I would see her again.  So I asked everyone I knew, and was told that dogs didn’t go to heaven. I found peace when a priest quietly listened to me, acknowledged my grief, and very gently healed my heart with the words: Whatever you need to be happy in heaven will be there.
   I will never forget her, or the gifts that came from loving her. Besides her devotion and companionship, she afforded me the opportunity to grow by caring for her, and grieving her loss. After her death, I was able to work for Dr. TJ Fogg, the veterinarian who tried to help her. He became my mentor and helped me get accepted into veterinary school.     Jan Facinelli,  DVM