From Rex's Mom:

Colonel Rex passed away during the night between Thursday and Friday. He had some food on Thursday morning so I decided we would try to get one more nice day out of life for him. He managed to accompany us on two walks. Towards the evening he was lying outside in the backyard; he came inside the house for a brief time. I could see he was not faring too well but I was hopeful he'd make it to the next day. Well, unfortunately, things went downhill very fast. He decided he wanted to stay out in the backyard all night, probably because he knew it was the end, and didn't want to upset me. God knows. He left this life without making a noise just as he had entered it and likely like he always was. I was very upset not to be able to do things as I had envisioned them: get him a proper, dignified ending without pain; I reckon I waited too long. We buried him in our dogs' cemetery, and there he will rest in peace. As with every time we lose a dog, everyone in the family feels very down and upset. The only consolation we have is that we managed to give him an extra 10 months of good life and a forever home - in case he wants to come back. ;)

Here's the funniest picture with Rex: I gave him a large container of yogurt to lick, and when he finished it, some yogurt remained on the top of his nose. ;)

Beautiful Bishop went to Rainbow Bridge today... His foster mom, Maryjo, took him into the vet. He was examined, and his prognosis was extremely poor. He had hip dysplasia in both hips, severe arthritis and degenerative myeolopathy. He was in severe pain and that was not likely to decrease much at all. The vet gave no hope of a comfortable life, even with drugs and weight loss. This dear sweet boy was held and loved by Maryjo as she said goodbye to him. He gave a good fight, and only recently knew that people would be good to him.He's not hurting any longer, and will be waiting at the bridge!

Maryjo said when she helped him into her car to take him to the vet, he cried in pain, and every time he tried to get up to potty, he was struggling and in severe pain and cried.

My heart breaks for this dear boy.

Libby

Our sweet (dolce) Jonas (formerly known as Elfie) passed away. His heart just stopped-that was what our vet told us when we took him to the clinic. It was such a gift to get up in the morning and see him ready to take on the day. He brought such a wonderful light and love to our house. Although this is so hard I know his short stay with us is part of a bigger master plan... He is now in Heaven... God has him in His keeping.  --Maria

From Karen Mackert, foster, adopter and friend to RORR...

On St. Patrick’s Day 2009, Chicki Schmidt of Cocker Spaniel Rescue happened to be checking shelter sites and spotted a couple of four legged hearttuggers. “Lily” and “Patti” were slated to be gassed within minutes when she contacted the shelter many miles from her own location and persuaded them to hold off until the end of the day. Her network of contacts came through again and both dogs were reprieved and began their weeks long journey up the coast from North Carolina to central Pennsylvania and a foster home with the Gessners. “Patti”, an older girl of 14, with inflamed skin, underweight, an ear infection (later to be determined partially deaf), and scraggly coat, cried many times in confusion during her journey.

Part buff cocker and golden retriever, “Patti” was just the girl we were looking for as a friend for our 11 year old cock-a-poo, Toby. Seniors bring a special joy and fit our quiet lifestyle. She needed to finally come home for as long as she had. And so began the adoption and approval process shepherded by Judy McArthur and a home study by Steffi Ridgel. And then we belonged to “Patti”.

The day I picked her up from the Gessners she cried like a human as she saw them drive away, but rode the 1 ½ hours home standing much of the time on the platform in back of me with her muzzle resting on my shoulder. Only one single accident did she have in her new home and, taller than I thought she would be, nevertheless quickly learned to army crawl out the access door even with arthritis. After the first few nights of waking me up to go out even when she took care of things herself during the day, it dawned on this not too bright human that she was night blind. Motion sensor night lights along her way ended the wake up calls and she was forever more self sufficient.

I was determined to give her back something more – her own name. For the first couple of weeks I tried every name I could think of looking for the correct one or at least the combo of sounds that would make her respond. Just as I was about to give up I heard the name “Sugar” on a TV show. I tried it and she came right to me with the most joyful look on her face, for the first time licking my hands and almost wagging her tail off. Sugar it was! Even when she became totally deaf, she learned to respond to the pursed lips that formed her name. In fact she developed quite a vocabulary of mouth shaped words she understood and hand signals. If she did not want to comply, she deliberately looked away, sneaking a glance back to see if I was still focused on her.

She loved nothing better to go out in the midst of a cold or wet howling storm, stand with her face to the wind and just breathe. It seemed to relieve her chronic bronchitis. The best guess was that this was the result of living with a heavy smoker. She didn’t like to stick to our shoveled “potty areas” but would plow through the snow, no matter how deep, until she found her perfect spot. Toby would happily trot in her wake.

Sugar had some excellent training in her past - perhaps an airport search dog? She could systematically search room or a vehicle, would “hit” on produce or meat in a grocery bag with a paw gesture and was positively ecstatic the day I was the person to hold drugs during a demonstration by a drug dog at school who had to find that marijuana purposely hidden in my pocket. Sugar hit on the residue scent even after I went home, dragging my slacks out of the laundry basket and pawing them. Needless to say, she got a lot of praise.

She also grew in statue, silently baring her teeth, pushing against my leg protectively and staring down an aggressive individual who came to front door. He gulped and left quickly. She shrank back down, yawned, and went back to her favourite cushion. Job done. Toby, bless his heart, would have licked him to death.

Toby’s buddy and my shadow, Sugar was always hopeful of a chicken treat from her human Dad and faithfully traveled upstairs to sleep by the bed at night. She never complained about the baths to help her skin – although I could only approach her one time with a trick to get her in the tub since that was all it took for her to avoid it the next time. She hated her prescribed ear flush but never snipped or bit. She took pills without complaint when wrapped in – oh the joy! - cheese. She did love her food and filled out nicely from 30 to 47 pounds. When stairs were too difficult for her to negotiate, she did it anyway until we started barricading them. However, Miss-I-can-solve-complex-problems would quietly dismantle the sometimes elabourate constructs and I would find a panting face next to mine in the middle of the night looking in my eyes over the edge of the bed. Up my old bones would have to jump to close the door to keep her from going down the stairs and falling. We had to use a sling system to get her safely down.

Within the last six months she began to noticeably slip. With the vet’s help and advice and Toby’s constant companionship, we continued to follow her lead to keep the quality of life up knowing that at 16 plus that was the best plan. She was ever as sweet as her name and fastidious in nature. She traveled slower but still loved going out with Toby to bark at 4wheelers. She accepted the introduction of Gracie, a new foster through Reach Out Rescue & Resources and a former puppy mill breeder, with her usual calm.

On the morning of Labour Day 2011, Sugar greeted me with a thump of the tail but turned down her treasured chicken treat. As the day progressed, she slept and began to drool. Her hind end didn’t want to work well, but she still insisted on taking herself out. Other symptoms arose and I realized she had probably had a stroke. I knew I faced the day of decision that we all dread. She slept most of the day, and I decided I would sleep downstairs beside her that night and make “the call” the next morning. As I dozed in a recliner with her beside me in late afternoon, she somehow took herself outside, across 100 feet of yard, in the rain, to lie under a bush. I found her there, staring steadily at me unable to bring herself inside. I carried her in and put her down. She wasn’t able to shake herself, so we talked as I dried her off. She kept her eyes fixed on my face, calm and peaceful. She seemed to doze, so I left her where she was and went into the other room. Minutes later, with single minded determination, she unsteadily walked in to me; her eyes locked on mine, lay down across my feet and went to sleep within minutes for the last time. Toby lay down close by.

She left us after 2-1/2 years with the same dignity and sweetness that she showed when alive. She rests now in her beloved outdoors above our South Branch cabin. Toby has mourned for the past few weeks but has taken over the education of Gracie, showing her the ropes of how to act like a dog with a family.

There will always be a spot of joy in our hearts brought by this amazing older girl. We speak of her and miss her daily. We are so lucky that Sugar chose to adopt us.

Just 2-1/2 days and I miss him. Who is Skippy? He was a sweet, loving, orange cat that came into my life unexpectantly. I have been doing rescue work most of my life. The past 8 yrs it has been mostly dogs. However, my roots were kitten rescue from the local barns. I would catch, tame and rehome. I was just a kid with a knack of catching feral kittens. Flash forward to Saturday, September 3, 2011. I am on my morning walk with my Golden Retrievers, one yipes with excitement and I realize they have found a very scared cat. One of the dogs playfully swats it. He kisses, spits, growls and paws fly. I rush the dogs back home. I go down to get him. He is too scared to pick up. I notice he is thin and can not move well. I came prepared with my only emergency can of cat food. I talk to him to calm him. He tries not to hiss at me. I leave him with the open can to give him time to stop being so scared. I go back down a few hours later. Empty can is what I find and a calmer cat. I take one look at him and he looks at me with curiosity. I reach down and gently touch the paw that is extended, and he curls his toes gently around my finger. I knew there was a chance...

I pet him for a few minutes’ walk back to the house, and come back down in the car and a towel. Mom came with me. She is shocked at his condition and the fact he still is so loving. I gently pick him up in the towel. He purrs. So light in my arms. I move him wrong he hisses. I shift ever so gently, he snuggles in.

I had set up a dog crate in my office. He doesn’t seem to want the food or water. Later I realize he can’t move right to eat out of them. So, I put food right in front of his pink nose. He gobbles the food. Later a syringe with water is introduced, he laps up the water. He eats regularly. I finally get a chance to give him a good look. He looks like he is wearing a corset. Tail is lifeless. Sad it is such a long tail one you would enjoy watching dance with emotion. His back legs won’t work right. He allows me to touch him even though he has spasms of pain. When he is done them he mews for love.

Skippy loved his face being rubbed, chin rubbed, chest rubbed, and his paws played with. I would check on him overnight, happy mews greeted me. I found myself checking on him just to hear those mews. Of course this being a holiday weekend I would have had to take him to the local emergency hospital. I didn’t want to stress him with the long drive.

Today is Tuesday and first thing I do is call the vets office, make arrangements to drop him off. Don’t want to stress him with a regular appointment. The office staff falls for the little guy quickly by his sweet mews and requests for attention. I ask to be called before any medical procedures are done. On my way to town to do the weeks errands, I check my phone; slip it in my purse and a voice mail pops up. It is the vet himself. This alerts me it is not good news.

Since I would be near the office in 5 minutes I stop in. The look on the staffs face is all I need to see. They are not their usual happy selves. First thing out of the nurses mouth is … he is so sweet.

His diagnosis: severely malnourished, infested with parasites (internal), and possible spine damage. All I want to do is find the heartless people who dumped him and give them a piece of my mind. I made the ONLY loving choice…. Send him to the rainbow bridge. My only solace is he knew love, compassion, had a full tummy and had a name. Sitting here writing this my office seems so empty without his sweet mews. Let anyone tell you it is just a cat, send them my way. Good bye my little buddy Skippy. I will never forget those two and a half days we shared.
   Ellee Neilands