Homer: my two day friend
Working in a veterinary hospital, I experience many tragedies, such as dogs hit by cars, cats being shot off of a grumpy old man's lawn, and other unmentionables. On one particular day, a woman rushed in the doors in a panic. She had a cardboard box with a tiny hairless creature inside. It turns out that the lady's rabbit had babies and abandoned them in the backyard. The baby rabbit came to us already chilled, so we thought he didn't have much of a chance. We warmed him in warm water and put him on a heating pad. So far so good. Closing time came, and one of us had to take him home. So, I adopted him for the weekend. He was so tiny. He barely filled up the palm of my hand. Pink and hairless, he found his way into my heart. With no mother to feed from, I took the responsibility of feeding him Similac, a puppy and kitten milk supplement. So, he ate. syringe by syringe.
He survived through the night which was a good sign. And over night, he grew a little hair. Just a little peach fuzz from his tail to the tip of his cute pudgy nose. The second day came, and I felt that I would call him Homer. I was watching the Simpsons when I came up with his name. Then on one innocent morning, I checked on him, fed him and saw his hair had grown and turned color. He would 've been a gray bunny rabbit. Not 15 minutes later, I went to check on him, and he was dead. He only lived two days -- never had a real chance at life, even though I tried to help him. I cried while I held his still warm body in my hands, kissing him goodbye. It still makes me cry when I think of him. Even though I knew him only two days. I love you Homer.
Your adopted mom,
Bob Dole, a 10-month old yellow and white cat, died on January 9, 1996, at his home in Hays, Kansas, after battling feline cancer. Bob is survived by his family. He was memorialized by Elizabeth and Andy today during a touching ceremony in the back yard. With the help of their father, and a neighbor, they erected a makeshift cross and remembered fondly the wonderful family times with Bob Dole. Scratches and bite marks from trying to shove medicine down Bob Dole's throat are all that remain. REST IN PEACE BOB DOLE!
My Pets... All of Them
Poppy - hit by a car (1976)
Mozart - just too sick (1975)
Boo - hit by car (1979)
Kayla - hit by car (1980)
Josh - too old (1983)
Kelly - old (1985)
Frost - old (1988)
I once had an extremely green parakeet, who bothered everyone with his obnoxious squeaking and cawing. No matter how long I sat before this bird and made big mouthing attempts to teach it English, it refused. The bird's name was Charlie, and other than the fact that it refused to speak, it was a fairly nice bird, as birds go. My parents, annoyed at its loudness, were told to buy it a mirror, so that it would believe it had a companion -- but Charlie was not fooled. It was about this time that my sister, in that way that younger siblings will, decided that she too must have a bird. She received an extremely blue, little girl parakeet -- god knows what my parents were thinking! -- and because she was, in my opinion, the stupidest sister around, proceeded to name her bird "Angel". This was the seventies, you see, and so it goes. Charlie and Angel never did take to one another in the way predicted by my parents, but rather began to screech daily at each other. This was a problem, especially since I now had a baby brother who was also keeping the household awake at night. From the looks of my parents' bloodshot eyes, something had to go. Of course I assumed it would be either my baby brother, or Angel. Not so. One day, when I came home from school, I found the bird cage empty. No Charlie, no Angel. I ran to check the crib -- one baby brother burping happily. My mother insisted that the birds, who's clipped wings had recently grown back and we hadn't the heart to cut back, had escaped by accident. She was very sorry. Yeah right. So to Charlie and Angel, who, as I wailed to my mother, must have frozen to death in the bitter Southern California winter, I dedicate this memorial.
What do you do when a good friend dies?
What do you do when a good friend dies?
Do you lash out in anger and curse at the sky.
Or grasp hard denial, the means of the weak,
In an effort to kindle the comfort you seek.
What do you do when a good friend dies?
Once life's breath, so precious, gives the chest final rise.
In haste you take blame, no other at fault,
You kneel upturned earth and deem all happiness to halt.
What do you do when a good friend dies?
When with him the times, both good and bad, lie.
Do you cast aside the past, for memories hurt much too much,
Or struggle and fight for that last lingering touch.
What do you do when a good friend dies?
When all of the tears have all but been cried.
No matter how much, no matter how hard you try,
The only thing to do is say farewell.
On Monday, January 1, 1996, Tribble "Tribby-Dog" Cohn lost a short but hard-fought battle against the odds. He was deeply loved and will be greatly missed.
For the past 12+ years, he was a good friend. Perhaps the best anyone could ever hope to have.
Marc & Janet Cohn
My husband and I adopted Mally in December of 1995, when he was a mere five weeks old. He was one of three kittens born to a cat belonging to an acquaintance, and with his snow white fur and piercing blue eyes, he won our hearts. We took the kitten so early because both the mother cat and kittens appeared to be ill. Sure enough, Mally had ear mites, an eye infection, and was malnourished. He was a fighter, however, and nothing seemed to slow him down. The vet patched him up for us, but Mally's troubles were not over then.
Over the next seven weeks, Mally developed a seriously infected paw, a large lump in his tummy, and finally we found out that he had Feline Leukemia, probably passed on from the mother. Still, our little cat struggled on. Nothing seemed able to tap out his supply of energy and fun. We inoculated him against as many infections as possible, hoping to give him a fighting chance, but to no avail. Mally developed a chronic stomach problem and had to be euthanized. He was only 14 weeks old. It was hard. We have no children, and Mally was our first real pet. Knowing his death could have been prevented, had his mother been inoculated, made it all the worse. Please, the best way to honor the memory of a beloved pet is to make sure your next one gets the care he/she deserves.
RCA was our family pet from about 1979 until 1989. He was a loner in life except to my mother. Everywhere my mother went RCA was sure to follow. He looked identical to the RCA Victor dog portrait listening to his master's voice through the gramophone. A more loyal companion you would never find. He guarded our family day and night. Didn't like men that much but adored women. He would sometimes get out of the yard and roam the town for hours but eventually come back to his home. RCA now rests in heaven with my 8-year-old brother Scott, guarding and being his companion for life. This one is for you RCA. A better friend they'll never be...
RCA 1979 - 1989 Rest in Peace Pal,
For Love of a Tiel
Birds aren't thought to be overly cozy or friendly, but cockatiels are just that. For over 2 yrs I had the love of such a sweet cozy bird. His name was Geordy, after the star trek character. he would sit upon my shoulder as I typed all day, and nibble popcorn held between my lips. He was gentle and lovable and so affectionate. He was intelligent and had several phrases such as "Riker sucks", "fire fire fire" (he watched too much Beavis and Butthead), and he did a flawless impersonation of our phone and door bells. He died in early summer, of a tumor, I held him until the last shivers went through his tiny body. I don't have any children, but as Geordy died I felt I had lost my child. My husband took him out to a field and buried him by some wild flowers.
Today, July 27 1995, our hamster Tofs past away. After two and a half years, he has now fallen into eternal sleep. May he rest in peace. We miss you.
Joakim, Asa, Jessica, Axel and Gull-Britt.
Ragnar the Norwegian Elkhound
Lost my friend of 14 years on May 9, 1995. He was the sweetest, kindest, most obedient dog I've ever owned. He shared our home with 2 cats and a lab mix, always was eager to please and always got along with the other animals. Hope he knows how much I miss him.
Years ago, I adopted Sheba from the ASPCA. She was on "death row". She was a little over a year old, really skinny, kind of funny looking and not trained at all. If she didn't leave that day, they had no choice but to put her down. I took her home, much to my husband's dismay. Even though she didn't wag her tail once for 6 months, I kept working. I fattened her up, gave her baths, and finally her hair grew in. Hey, she was a golden retriever! And a really pretty one at that. After 1 year, she was eventually housebroken. Alright. She turned out to be the best dog. Completely faithful, loving, friendly and beautiful. I think she never forgot how we saved her. She loved squeaky toys, cookies and a good chest rub. She was really awesome. I'm gonna miss her. I hope her next place is filled with balls, newspapers, and rawhide. Bye Sheba!
Duchess 1965 - 65
Duchess was a little boxer puppy. She died when she was 4 months old. We got her from a dog breeder that couldn't sell her because they knew she had a heart murmur. We got her with her brother Duke. Duke lived until he was 14 years old. He died of old age. Duchess was the sweetest little puppy. She would sneak candy from under the Christmas tree. She started to get sick, as we knew she would, because we got her knowing that she would only live a few more weeks. Then she died at the Veterinarian's office. My sister and brothers cried for a long time.
Buttons Dave Mueller
Feb? 95 - January 18, 1996
He wasn't here long. Love at first site is a good description. At first, he was my sister's, and Sealy, his sweet sister was our's. My nephew named him, that was the word of the week -- Buttons. He was such a sweet kitty. In July 95, my sister hit him with her car. The vet said his pelvis may be fractured, so we took him in to watch him & so he could get some rest & play with Sealy-girl.
From then on he was my biddy baby. He liked to sit on the top of the couch and purr and knead my head. He also liked to bite it every once in a while. Love bites, I'd say. He was a hunter and a tom-cat. He liked our bird feeders cause they attracted so many varieties of birds for him to give us. Moles, mice, and birds were his favorite. He started visiting the back-door neighbor's kitties just recently, and would stay out all night. When he wasn't out, he would take over our dog's bed and sleep. Holly (the dog) would either lay on the side of the bed or somewhere else.
One day we were worried about him, as he hadn't been in for a few days, and we put up some signs around the neighborhood. Later that day, he came home. We laughed because we figured he'd seen our signs. A few weeks ago, it snowed and he ran off again. But of course he came home, and enjoyed playing peek-a-boo with our 2 birds in the house. On Thursday, the 18th, my little biddy was hit by a car right in front of our house. He died right then, and I miss him so much. Me, Sealy and my dog Holly all love him and hope he's happy in kitty-heaven. Missy Hoppe.
Also my other biddy girl, Kitty. I didn't know her for long, but she was the sweetest kitty. She'd tell me when she wanted out, or if she was hungry or thirsty. She slept on my bed and liked to follow us on walks with Holly. Mom saved her from the pound, and we loved her up until she left and didn't come back at the age of 18. I hope she's with Buttons and is happy.
Spot 1987 - 1996
Monday, Jan 15, 1996
Spot left us today. A beautiful black lab of nine years. It happened in the examination room of our vet. It wasn't your favorite setting, but you didn't have to endure it for long. You went to sleep in the arms of someone who loves you very very much. You didn't have to hurt any more, I just wanted you to have peace - I hope you forgive me.
Spot was one of the bravest dogs to ever curl up in front of a fire place. Always watchful and alert, no one came through the front door without clearance from Spot. No one came near the car without a challenge. One time Spot jumped over two seats and had his head out the driver's side window before a security guard could take the five steps from the station to the car. A protector, a friend, a companion, a motivator, a clown, a joker, a wrestler - Spot.
Spot -- your name sounded pretty silly nine years ago. Soon, though, it grew to mean everything that comes with friendship and love and fun. You showed me more bravery than I can hope to imitate. All your family is here; Trish and me, James, Mike, and your brother Sparky. We miss you terribly, and think about you all the time. This probably would come as no surprise to you Spot, but your brother is the one leading us out of the deep sadness of not having you with us. Bravery and toughness run in your side of the family.
You gave us everything you had - we all love you.
Halley was my very own dog. She was named after the comet (Wynzalot's Comet), and that's exactly what she was like. I loved her more than anything; she didn't have the greatest personality (that Westie fighting spirit got her in trouble more than a few times), but she was loyal and loving. My family put her to sleep two years ago, the summer before I left for college; I will never forget her and always hope to have another like her.
On December 11, 1995, Cricket, our beloved Scottie mix, succumbed to the ravages of diabetes at the age of 11 years, eight months. Her gentle manner and her zest for life endeared her to those who knew her. For the past three and a half years, my wife and I devoted ourselves to her comfort and happiness as diabetes slowly took its dreaded toll.
As her eyesight dimmed and her pace slowed she showed her determination to enjoy what pleasures life left her. Her voice and groans showed her love of family life. Her brother, Whiskey, our Golden-Chesapeake Bay mix, sensed her needs and kept vigil over her and never showed any jealousy for the extra attention we showed Cricket. He mourns in his own way by refusing to drink from her water bowl but rather walks to his own a few steps away, but as his aged hips sometimes give him trouble, it is truly an act of love on his part.
We laid Cricket to rest beside a lake on property we are starting to build on. When we move, she'll already be there waiting on us, but do we ever miss her.
Doug & Vicki Raynor
Fritz the Cat
Fritz, we bought at the pound about a year ago, as a mouse chaser.
Fritz, the excellent cat, young and wild.
Fritz , we miss him now one year later.
Lost in Amsterdam
Here lies, our beautiful Whisper cat. She was as crazy as the gray and white patches on her body. Yet, she was gentle and had a kind spirit. She was only 3 years old, and we lost her to a vet that did not watch her vital signs carefully during dental surgery. It was so sudden,.....too much so. I picture my kitty now in the arms of an angel gently rocking her, just as I rocked her. She will always be in my heart and in my family.
Sir Edmund Hillary Albin (1994-95)
Sir Edmund Hillary Albin was our first house rabbit. He was an adorable Himalayan bunny with personality and a twinkle in his eye. Hillary taught us that bunnies could make wonderful pets indoors. He became a member of the family and was much loved.
Hillary had chronic intestinal problems. One night he was in obvious suffering, so we took him to the vet at 2 A.M.. Though the vet did all he could, Hillary passed on to Rainbow Bridge at 6 A.M.. One of the last things he did was to cuddle his little body in my arms.
We will never forget our little Hillary. He may lie in the backyard under a tree, but he lives in our hearts.
Ken and Karen Albin
Our Beloved Spikenard 1993-1996
Spike was our dear friend. Although he was no more than a tiny lizard, he filled our days with joy. In his brief lifetime he made such accomplishments as swimming, eating bugs and sleeping on logs, all for our viewing pleasure. Spike had one son (or daughter) who tragically never hatched, but just the same, his life was full and complete, and he touched us like no other reptile could.
Good-bye Spike, we shall miss you.
Beloved Fish Hook
I remember the evening my parents told us we were getting a dog. I ran around singing "we're gonna get a new dog" over and over, until to the relief of my Mother and older siblings, my Father returned with the said dog.
Our new dog's name was Fish Hook. He was full grown, about the size of a labrador, his coat was medium length, a combination of black, brown and white. His ears were floppy, and his face was black. I thought him the most beautiful dog I'd ever seen. His previous owner, who fished and drank frequently, acquired Fish Hook as a pup. During an outing to fish and drink, the pup swallowed a piece of cheese (Velveeta, I believe) on a fishing line with the hook attached. Being a diligent pet owner, he simply cut the fish hook from the line, and his pup became Fish Hook.
Fish Hook was a menace to the Postman, large trucks, anyone in uniform, and pretty much all strangers. One day my Father called an air conditioning repair person. The repair person stood his ladder next to our house and climbed on the roof. Imagine his surprise when he found our beloved Fish Hook waiting for him at the bottom of the ladder. His teeth bared in a sort of 'make my day' dog-smile.
Fish Hook became a particular menace when Dad's friends would stop by (perhaps it brought back memories of the Velveeta fishing incident). My Father's friends would honk their car horns to alert us of their arrival. Dad would hollar 'get that damn dog', and one of us kids would secure Fish Hook. Fish Hook's arrival into our family cut down on impromptu visits by Dad's friends.
Fish Hook was a devoted family member. He followed my brother and me to our friend's homes and waited for us. No stray dogs followed us home, and we were never accosted during our travels about the neighborhood. Black-faced, labrador-sized dogs became common in our neighborhood after Fish Hook came into our family. Fish Hook died of old age in 1972. I know he's in a place with my Mother, Father, and the many other pets my parents allowed me to adopt. I know we'll all meet again and when we do, I'll hug my Fish Hook and tell him how much I've missed him and how very much I love him. Perhaps if Fish Hook is lucky, some of Dad's old friends will stop by.
Epitaph For Prissila
On April 6, 1980 we adopted Prissila. She was unwanted by her previous owners. They had lost their previous dog, who they had for 14 years, and thought Prissila could take her place. She was an Australian Terrier. When we adopted her, she was 2 years old and my daughters were 7 and 9. What a playmate she was. My youngest daughter would dress her up in doll clothes, and Prissy (as we came to call her) loved every minute of it. We had a cottage, and the girls loved to swim. Every time they went into the water, Prissy was there to protect them.
As she grew older and the girls too, they didn't play with her as much, and she became my shadow. You never had to ask where I was. All you had to do was look for Prissy. She would even sit outside of the outhouse at the cottage and wait for me. She developed arthritis in her later years, but that still didn't stop her. We had a devil of a time trying to keep her out of the water in the early spring. When we would start to pack for the cottage, she somehow knew and would jump into the car as we were packing, as if to say, you are not going without me. When I'd go away on vacation, she wouldn't eat for days, and she would go around crying. Sometimes we just couldn't take her with us.
For 13 years she slept on our bed, and then 2 years ago, she developed a problem with her bladder. She had been spayed when we adopted her. The vet told us it was because of her age. Because I didn't want any accidents on my bed, we moved her to the floor with a blanket, and like a true lady, she accepted this. That is when she started to really show her age. Ear infections, eye infections and allergies all developed. But oh, she still was my shadow.
This past summer she got sick again, chronic infections. About the end of November, she went for a check up and had lost 2 lbs. Her infections were back, and she was put on antibiotics. Two weeks later, we were back to the vet. A lump had developed on her throat, and we were told it wasn't good. She may last a day, a week or a month. We brought her back home and tried our best to keep her, but she was failing fast. So with great courage, we did the honorable thing and booked an appointment to have her put to sleep. What an ordeal that was! Our vet, my husband and I were all in tears. She was 17 years old when she left us on December 19th, 1995. She is resting in our backyard now, and in the spring, we will plant a tree over her grave. They say there is no heaven for animals, but I know in my heart she is still looking out for us, and she will always be my shadow.
Jason 1981 - 1985
Jason was a smiling, bouncing Golden Retriever who lived his short life to the fullest. He went on wilderness backpacking trips, swam in mountain lakes, and played in the snow. He retrieved countless tennis balls, sticks, and even tried to retrieve swimming people! He dug caverns in the snow trying to retrieve snow balls. He was fond of slides in parks and playgrounds, lawns with sprinklers turned on, rain puddles, and he loved to pose for photographs. Always clowning around with his ball, squeaky toy, or teddy bear, he made people laugh. He was the joy of my life, but I never got to say goodbye. An escape-artist and a roamer, he went on one last great adventure without me. I loved him so very much and still miss him, but I know one day we'll walk together once more and play ball in the green grass.
Popcorn was a good dog. We miss him a great deal though he helped us get through with our lives, but finally he had to go. A snake bit him one day, and it just happened to be a poisonous coral snake, and for a pick-a-poo, I'm sure it was quite painful.
We miss you Popcorn,
Mary, Brion, Ceris and Robert
In memory of Sophie
We adopted Sophie, a Westie, from the Humane Society of Ramsey County (MN) at Christmas '91. She had been seized for abuse and neglect from a breeder and then in and out of two homes before we brought her to ours. She was small and had very little fur, but had a sweet, shy disposition.
She adapted quickly to our home and became the constant companion of Jessie, our Bouvier. Over the next few months, she filled out and developed a beautiful coat. She had constant attention from us and loved the long walks in the adjacent park. She loved to chase squirrels and caught her share of voles in the yard.
In April of '95 she was diagnosed with cancer of the bladder and urethra. Over the next nine months she had her good days and bad -- what was still the same old happy Sophie. We still went on our walks, and she still tormented the squirrels and voles. We spent all of our free time curled up with her in her favorite chair.
On November the 16th, she stopped eating, and was unable to pass urine. Up to this point I don't think she experienced anything more than minor discomfort, but I had to spare her the effects of kidney failure. She was euthanized that afternoon, with Jessie and I there to say goodbye. It was the right time: not too soon to keep her from enjoying the time she had remaining, nor too late to rob her of her dignity.
She was a wonderful companion, and we will always miss her.
As a child, I used to catch baby toads in the drainage ditch near my home and pile them into a bucket. When the bucket was filled, I'd bring the toads home and the festivities would begin. I did everything with those toads from creating toad towns to toad roads to toad Olympics. Often, I would line up 3 to 5 toads and have a race. The toad which crossed the finish line last would have to pay for the defeat with a show of aerial acrobatics. In other words, I'd throw the poor loser high in the air. I was only a kid, and I didn't know any better. I'd also build elaborate cities where the toads could live, play and prosper. Unfortunately, most of the toads did not prosper, and wound up dying in their artificial, kid-made homes. At the time, I couldn't understand why. Now that I am older and a pacifist, I regret my actions as a young boy and wish to make amends by honoring all those poor toads with this Virtual Pet Cemetery.
When I came home, you were there. For five years that was the story. No one had to worry about a thing. Guardian, playmate, babysitter, helper. Patiently you raised us. Easily you kept us in line. Always you protected us.
When the divorce came, you stayed with Dad. I don't remember ever seeing you again.
Thank you for finding your way into my dream. You saved me again, and I finally got my chance to say goodbye. I know that you're waiting for me now. Be patient a while longer... I'll be there eventually.
Thank You So Much, I Love You.