Dolly received her name when my Mom ended a long distance phone call to me by saying "Goodnight Dolly".  As I went to tuck in my new litter of kittens for the night (age 4 weeks),  I turned to this one, already my favorite, and said "Goodnight Dolly".  Thus, she was named by my Mom.

Summer ritual:  Dolly was an indoor kitty, but in summer she'd wait by the door to be nestled into her snuggly pack on my chest.  We'd meander the garden, walking down and up our long driveway for the newspaper.   She'd smell flowers, bite at tall grasses, swipe at nats and blissfully squint in the sunshine.   Summer evenings, she'd join us outside in the deck swing.

I recently found a shirt covered in fur in the back of my closet that Dolly had been sleeping on in her last week and I can't take it off.  When I traveled, I would leave a shirt for her that I had worn and slept in..

Apparently, she decided to leave one for me.

I am always holding her, my arms literally in their position to make her comfortable.  She purrs for me, snuggles as close to my body as she can get, brushes my cheeks with her whiskers.   She's my child, but then,  in her older years, my grandmother, both accepting my mothering and guiding me at the same time, as she quickly became much older than  me.  She was showing me her aging, some better days, then harder days, a little playfulness, but then a nap. Always she stayed close to me, until she couldn't.

Thank you Doll for so many years of giving and receiving love.  You are forever cherished.  May your sweet spirit stay bright in honor of every cat and kitten and animal who suffers, and is without a home and loving care.

I want her back so badly in my arms as if she has more for me but got called away and I can't find her.   Searching in my dream for her, calling and calling, looking for her everywhere as if she were lost and I'm frightened for her.

I wake up crying.

             Then I look out from the kitchen window at her little grave and just know she's forever in my arms but I ache for her velvet body on mine. It's not about any other loss, it's about loss of her.  My girl.  My darling precious girl who smells like fresh laundry, with sweet breath and sparkling sapphire eyes.       ~ Susan Becker

Dolly

May 13, 1989   -   May 8, 2007

Born into my arms. Died in my arms, 5 days shy of her 18th birthday.  Champion cuddler and sleep partner.   Sweet, shy, playful, charming.   She taught me to be still and to touch.  Night time ritual:  As I read in bed before sleep, Dolly settles on my chest, nose to mine, whiskers tickle my cheeks.  We hear each other's heartbeat, breathe each other's air.   Lights out, she repositions as tight as she can into my left armpit, chin on my shoulder, eyes on me, purring us to sleep.  I awake in the night and she hasn't moved.

Shiva

1976 - 1986

Best Loyal Friend  *  You are Forever Remembered

Devoted     Loving     Smart

Running & Riding Companion

Cody

February 2, 1999  -  April 26, 2008

Cody passed away Saturday afternoon, (26 April ), while sleeping in the back yard at home in Orlando.  He was nine years old, and had played and eaten well with no sign of health or other issues which may have heralded his passing.  My roommate found him, and said he looked peaceful, with his head resting on his front paws as if he had been just taking a nap.  Cody was the best person I have had the pleasure of knowing to date.  We can all learn a lot about being a quality person from observing, and emulating some of his traits.

He was always positive, and ready for a new adventure.  He knew, even better than we do, to take joy from everything life threw at him -- even the smallest tidbit of hotdog, to the greatest road trip from FL to CO Rocky Mountains.  He played, and enjoyed being outside in the sun, though understood the utility of air-conditioning all too well.

Cody was goodie-driven. He believed in the reward system, both accepting them, and providing for himself.  It didn’t matter if it was the tiniest crumb, or a full T-Bone steak. If there could have been a goodie tied to the infamous Weapons of Mass Destruction (or lack there-of), in Iraq – Cody would have saved the Bush administration considerable embarrassment by finding them with gusto!  Cody almost always found every snack -- while never tiring of the game. 

Before Cody, I didn’t know any of my neighbors, even though I had lived there a year. They were just right there, but we were always invisible to each other—and they tended to be invisible to everyone else too.  But Cody understood the absurdity of that, and quickly gained a following in the neighborhood, eliciting salutations from every neighbor as we walked by.  Many of those same neighbors, with their polite small talk, even came around to inviting us to dinner or over for a beer or two.  Cody even introduced me to the few, but significant women of my life.  Before long, I knew my neighbors, and they knew me.  They knew I loved animals, served my country with pride, and made damned good spaghetti.  And I knew who had dogs, and which neighbors were renovating their homes, and how their kids were doing.  I knew that because of Cody, my house would be jealously watched when I was away on Army business.

Of the infinite things I will miss about Cody, I loved it when he would jump to the front passenger seat of the car and sit looking straight ahead as if he were navigating for me.  He would lift his left paw and make, “hold my paw” gestures until I complied.  Then, I swear to you, I swear he would smile like he was pulling my leg and the joke was on me.  We would drive like that – going forward with his warm fuzzy paw cupped in my right hand.  I always hated to let that paw go in order to shift gears.  I have never seen, nor heard of, another dog doing that.  I certainly didn’t train him – it was just part of who he was.  I like to think he knew exactly what he was doing – making me feel good.

I loved that dog, and it always tore me up to have to leave him to go on Army business.  But he always seemed to forgive me as soon as I got home.  He would ecstatically bounce around to show me that he missed me and was glad I was home, then would sprint through the house looking for a favorite toy to bring me.  It made coming home worth-while -- a joyous event every time. Imagine if we could live like that.  Imagine if we had the power to make others feel whole, and a part of a community.  Imagine if, simply by being who we are, we could bring joy to someone else.  Would Iraq even be an issue if we just acted like dogs?

Cody was a person who made the most of every minute of his life.  He never overly brooded because he didn’t get his way. Instead he looked what other way was afforded to him and he equally rejoiced in that endeavor. At first, I was going to be mad at God for taking him from me.  But in fairness to Him – I had to remember the many prayers I made to Him to allow Cody to peacefully die in his sleep when his time came.  I kept praying that, because I watched helplessly as my roommate’s dog suffered from old age, and, (we suspect) cancer.  We watched her deteriorate, and we were tortured, as she was, by her ailments.  She had to finally be assisted to go to wherever dogs go in order to end her pain. 

Months earlier, I knew I could never give anyone the permission to put Cody down – I was just not strong enough. I dreaded having to be faced with that choice.  So I did what I did to quit smoking – I prayed.  And I prayed a lot that God would ensure I not be faced with that.  And so, I have to admit – it may be that God did answer my prayer, for Cody did die peacefully, in the back yard, in a sleep position.  I just didn’t expect it to be his time so soon.

But he will be remembered.  Not in that, “American VETS” bumper sticker way of remembering that Americans are so fond of, but in a sincere, honest, and loving way that will endure.  I will remember the paw holding, and the romping through the surf at beaches.  I will remember the lazing away the hours on the bed or couch eating Fruit Loops while watching movies.  I’ll remember the walks, and how anyone you encounter on them is a friend until they prove otherwise -- not a friend in the way of an associate you say, “hi” to, or like one you keep on your Christmas card list only because you are too embarrassed to close off the relationship – but a friend you can talk to, invite over for a meal, sit and have a beer with.  Someone you can learn to know and love, and share with.

Cody taught me these things, though I am only human; I can only learn to get good at these things through practice.  I hope I will practice enough to make him proud of me one day – wherever he is, doing awkwardly for me, what came instinctually for him.

Anyway – that’s Cody’s legacy in a nut-shell.  I’m sure in light of this tragedy, that any squirrels reading this will politely ignore the conspicuous lack of mention of any (alleged) terrorizing of squirrel kind.

Cody, a.k.a. Prince Cody of Hinesville, has left the building.

February 2, 1999 – April 26, 2008

A.K.C. Registered: Absent Without Leave, A.K.A. Cody Edwards

I sit here struggling, even as I write this, to put it in the right words.  My best friend, my dog Cody passed away while I was here in Iraq.  He was a good dog, and merits some form of eulogy.  I thought I’d share not the loss of Cody, but of how I gained having him in my life.  Maybe this will help others in my situation, or maybe it just helps me deal with this tragedy.

K9 Rocky was born in Holland and was imported to the USA when he was approximately 18 months old, destined to become a police dog.  Rocky was very composed, with a signature stare which analyzed all things around him.  The K9 academy was short, as he was a fast learner with a focused intensity.  He quickly learned his job on the street and 18 months after graduating, he was shot in the line of duty.  Despite a bullet shattering bone in his front left leg, he still pursued and captured the shooter.  Rocky's story trickled across America in various media groups and he was recognized locally and nationally by many entities.  He healed and returned to work and after 6 tough years of patrol, he was retired and struggled at home becoming a full time house pet.  Twenty months after retiring, Rocky showed symptoms of an issue within his hips.  Rocky refused to allow pain to interfere with his life and always masked pain.  He was diagnosed with prostate cancer and it was so advanced that he was put down days later. Coincidentally, the date of his death was the 6th anniversary of his shooting.  Rocky's untimely death is his handler's biggest tragedy and to cope, he wrote a book on Rocky's life which he hopes will soon be published.  He was not present for Rocky's first breath, but he was there for the last.  Neither breath really matters.  What matters is what happens during all the breaths in between.  Rocky made those breaths count!

CASS

 JANUARY 23, 2000--FEBRUARY 23, 2009

We were shocked and devastated to lose our wonderful, sweet Cass so suddenly.  On Friday he was his usual exuberant, barking self and on Saturday he collapsed before going into a coma on Sunday--possibly a brain tumor or stroke.

He was a very shy and somewhat intimidated puppy when he first came to us.  Through Dan's patient and loving efforts he quickly grew into a talkative, joyful and loving dog. He was selected as "the dog who changed the most" during puppy training classes. 

Cass loved to bark and the littlest thing would set him off: our sneezes, a closing door, ice being dispensed from the fridge, taping a package closed, Dan making a pot of coffee, anyone riding by on a bicycle, his sister Chloe ignoring the call to come in from outside, getting the broom or the vacuum out--any excuse would do.  Our house is so much sadder and quieter without his frequent vocalizations.

He was the most companionable of dogs, lying at my feet snoring and farting during the day and following me or Dan anytime we got up to do anything.  As soon as we let him outside, he was ready to come back in unless we were out with him. And he was the tail-wagging-est Sheltie we have ever had.  Just a happy pup who made us smile.

You dared not leave a used tissue within his reach because he loved to shred them to bits.  He wasn't above joining Chloe to give the occasional chase to one of our cats.  This boy loved to lick and he would give you kisses and slurp your hand as long as you would let him.

Mostly, he was a total love and his absence leaves a big hole in our hearts.  How blessed we were to know him and how thankful to still have his sister Chloe.

Chloe's exquisite face charmed us from the first moment we cast eyes upon her and she only grew more beautiful as she grew into adulthood.   It took her a while to grow into her big ears and then we discovered that she had the biggest paws (some Clydesdale genes perhaps?).

Puppyhood was filled with pop-tart leaps, barking at Mr. Brush or Mr. Broom and teaching her brother Cass who was boss.  Occasionally when she saw something in the back yard, we would hear the cutest little high-pitched keening which would often result in Cass howling in harmony.  Her favorite game was to chase after "light bugs" (sun reflections from a watch face or some other bright surface) and she could even see them when we moved them to the ceiling!  She was such a very intelligent little girl who loved to perch on the arm of the couch and survey her realm (Chloe in Charge).  We were in thrall to her wishes.

In the mornings Dan would put Cass and Chloe on the bed with us and she would come over right away and give me the daintiest kisses on my lips  and then she would climb on Dan's chest while he lay in bed drinking coffee and greedily lick off little tastes from his finger.  In the evening when Dan got home from work, both dogs would come running to be greeted and made over. Chloe wormed her way between Dan's legs to get her daily belly rub.

We have been so lucky to have shared her life for 9 years but feel so cheated not to have many, many more.    Losing Chloe so soon after the death of her brother Cass has dealt us a mighty blow.  Our hearts are filled with grief.

GONZO

 C.1989--AUGUST 16, 2007

After 18 wild and wonderful years, Gonzo has joined his Sheltie buddy, Chaco,

                                                           in that place where beloved pets go after they die.

Gonzo showed up in our driveway as the cutest kitten 18 years ago and claimed us for his own. Dan was his person and snuggle-ee of choice.   One of Gonzo's favorite things was to ride atop Dan's shoulders: he would stand up and pat Dan's leg to indicate that he wanted a ride.  We used to call Gonzie our double-wide earlier in his life.  In the last few years he lost lots of weight and reverted to single-wide.  

When we brought Chaco home as a puppy, he and Gonzo became sparring partners who loved to play together.  It seemed like Gonzo must be half-dog. Alas, Cass and Chloe did not share Chaco's delight in playing with Gonzo.

All was not sweetness and light.  Gonzo was a challenging kitty, attacking Moxie and Soxie with his axe-murderer countenance as they responded with blood-curdling screams followed by my own screams at Gonzo and resulting in his being imprisoned in the guest room.  He especially loved to attack in the middle of the night so he spent most nights for the first 10 yrs of his life in that room.  And did I mention that he loved to mark his territory?  We tried many remedies for this including various mind-altering drugs which mostly made him crazier.  However, Prozac finally did the trick! It also made life easier for the girls since it seemed to curb his aggressiveness as well.

Gonzo was feared in our vet's office.  One time they couldn't find the protective gloves so Dan pried him out of his carrier but not before being bitten by a fear-crazed Gonzo who gave him a serious case of blood poisoning. After that, we would give him a sedative before going to the vet and they would put him in their sedation chamber before examinations.

For about the last 2 weeks, Gonzo lost interest in eating--even Haagen Dazs and bacon no longer appealed.  Mostly he would just sleep in one corner or another and sometimes curl up with Dan at night for a while. He became so frail and pitiful that we had the house-call vet come and administer last rites last night.

He lives in our hearts and memories always.

 We remember all the love and happy times you shared with us.  Nothing, no one, no other cat can ever replace our bond with you and your precious years with us. You gave us your all, as we gave you.  

In loving so much, we open ourselves to profound intimacy, and also to this pain of separation, but we wouldn't have it any other way.

Perhaps you represent our shared child, and the innocent child in us. Perhaps you represent our ideal friend or parent, ever faithful, patient and welcoming, loving us unconditionally. You are our playmate and sibling, maybe even a reflection of ourselves, embodying qualities we wish we had. Perhaps you are all of these to us.

With your constant presence and devotion, you were an unlimited source of comfort. You listened without judgment and never gave advice. You accepted us exactly as we are, regardless of how we look or feel or behave. You forgave and never held grudges against us. No matter how much change we must endure in our unpredictable lives, you have been there for us, an enormous source of companionship.

We proclaim our love and our need for you, and bid farewell, our most precious and darling little LadyBug. 

LadyBug

May 12, 1995 - January 16, 2009

Farewell Buggy Dear.    It's as if you floated away in a dream,  so fast that had we known what was about to happen, we would have done everything in our power to protect you.  You are our treasured family member, sharing years of intimate hours and giving us the sweetest of times.   You loved us perfectly.   We are devastated and outraged that you are gone from us.  We will miss you, remember you, and love you forever for giving us your all.   Your life transcends that furry little body and you live in our hearts.  It is a powerful strength of our attachment to you that we grieve so.

You have woven yourself into the fabric of our daily lives. You are everywhere in our hearts and in our home. We relaxed in each other's company. You were there when we awakened in the night, and in the morning. We depended on you and you relied on us.  You greeted us joyfully when we came home and slept with us in our bed.  We touched you, petted, hugged, kissed and snuggled with you, telling you our troubles and sharing our deepest secrets.  We will always remember your life with us. 

CHLOE

 JANUARY 23, 2000--APRIL 18, 2009

Zero degrees.  3 a.m.  Need a flashlight to find him, dozing in still frosted air, icicles hanging from mane, ears, tail and flanks.  He barely wakes.  Through drowsy lashes, he sees ..  there, a flashlight searching for him.  Nicker.  Over here.

Glove off, my bare hand searches for warmth under the belly, just to be sure...  a middle of the night winter visit to warm his body and fill both hearts.

Favorite recipe:  mix 2 cups bran, chopped carrots and apples, molasses and corn oil.  Pour boiling water to cover and steep 5 minutes. Serve.

Beloved friend, Scotch lived long and prospered.  He loved mountain trails in the snow, eagerly jumped anything, disliked strangers and hated the confines of a stall.  This horse joyfully walked out more briskly than others could trot. 

Scotch was agile and brave, completely kind and generous in attitude.  Throughout a long show career, he never lost his rider, and insisted on jumping clean, winning a Central Colorado Grand Championship and two Reserve Championships in Combined Training (dressage test, cross-country jumping course, and stadium jumping course).  He was so eager, excited and at home galloping cross-country that he was sometimes asked to wait backward in the start box.

Scotch taught me the wonder of total absorption in the here and now, how to lose my age, gender, time of day, day of the week.  He taught me the meaning of deep passion, true patience, physical and emotional strength.  I began to cross-train for the physical strength just to ride better.  There were 4 Tetrathlons (swim, run, shoot, ride cross-country), triathlons, 100 mile century bicycle rides, and a Denver Marathon. Lifting hay bales and 50 lb feed bags became common.  Scotch taught me the joy of physical ability and strength. Emotionally, he comforted me with his still presence and affection, and to him, I was visible.  For him, I counted. He was my heart’s desire.

Scotch liked to stand guard over his favorite napping dog buddy, sharing spilled grain at dinner.  This Shepherd’s solid whiteness was a blur amid the horse’s four tall stockings so that it was hard to tell often where equine left off and canine began.  We trotted miles of mountain trail, the 3 of us, often 6 a.m. before work.  Once, he was so relaxed (snoozing, back foot cocked, head low) with a previous companion dog, that he never noticed and didn’t seem to care that his dog chewed off every tail hair up to the bone.

Oh, to spot deer on the trail, face adventure over a bullfinch jump, catch a blue ribbon and victory gallop, canter a mountain trail at sunrise  ..     make him a foal to begin again.  If I’m able to love another horse in my lifetime, please make his heart as sweet and brave, as patient and kind as this one. You are very loved, my companion.  I am grateful for the years I was privileged to enjoy and care for you, for happy memories and your deep meaning that have fulfilled my dreams and helped me live fully. Thank you forever.

Our dear Maggie passed away yesterday afternoon.  She had been snoozing in the sun on our front porch ( one of her favorite things to do ), when a big black poodle and its owner were walking in front of our house.  Being the "guard dog" that she was, she barked and ran to the curb to let him know who was the boss. Jim and I ran out after her, not wanting the dog's owner to be frightened. As soon as Maggie reached the curb, we saw her jerk her head around and fall on the ground.  By the few seconds it took for us to reach her, she was already gone.  Her veterinarian said it was most likely a heart attack or a stroke.  As you know, we have always treated Maggie like a very important family member, so you can imagine our shock and devastation.

At 11 years old, Maggie was hurting from arthritis in her legs and a knee surgery that never healed quite right. In spite of her discomfort, she was always, always, always there for us....first thing in the morning and last thing every night.  We welcomed our new grandbabies together,  played together, talked often, ate our meals together, napped together, watched TV together, walked together, slept together, and simply "hung out" together.

Even though Maggie weighed 84 pounds, she loved to sit in our laps. Always gentle, Maggie sat beside our grandchildren when they were infants, and when they were old enough to run around and play, Maggie was thrilled to be part of the game, carefully holding their toys in her mouth.

Maggie's was everyone's friend; greeting guests at the front door with a stuffed toy in her mouth. We had given her several birthday parties, complete with a Marmaduke birthday cake and Marmaduke napkins, cups, and candles. She loved wearing a special "scarf" for parties and was always so proud to show off her gifts.

Maggie

October 16, 1997 - March 9, 2009

Our Child in a Fur Coat

We have always said that when we looked deep into her eyes, we could see her soul.  How she will be missed by all of us who have been lucky enough to have been "touched" by her gentle spirit!  Hopefully, she is in doggy heaven now, running and playing with her new friends.

In Memory

I am such a fortunate person to have been in Sam's life!  I can't put into words the feelings I have for him. To say we had a very strong bond for each other, would be an understatement.   He was compassionate and loving when I was down and sad. He was playful and silly when things were good.  His wonderful personality filled the house with warmth, love and joy.  Sam was just as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside -what a handsome boy!  During the summer months he would come running downstairs to remind me to go get the mail but also, to let him out so that he could roll around in the dirt and lay in the warm summer sun. He always talked me into sitting outside with him and spending time together. I always looked forward to coming home and seeing him, he brightened my day every time.

Thanks little buddy!

Sam

Long ago, visiting friends and admiring their young white Shepherd mix, I said aloud that someday I want a dog just like her.  Three months later, she needed a home and I wanted her. Shiva was shy of strangers and glued herself to my side.  A friend later said that in every candid photo taken of me in those years, Shiva was in it.  She blossomed as my marathon training partner, covering several miles for every one of mine as we wound our way up Lariat Trail outside Golden, Colorado too many times to count.  My horse Scotch was fond of Shiva as well, letting her nibble his grain spillage from under his  legs.  They napped together in the sun and walked side by side on Apex Trail.  Scotch was dark liver chestnut with 4 white sox up to his knees and Shiva was solid white, so that when she traveled next to him, one couldn’t tell where equine left off and canine began.

This sweetest of dogs tolerated the move from 110 acres

to a small urban back yard, where she remained a

devoted and loyal pal.  From the land of forgiveness, she hugs me.