”Who’s a good girl!!!”

We adopted Kiska when she was 5 years old.  We kept waiting to figure out “what was wrong” with her since she was such a beautiful dog and had such an easy way about her!  Why would her old family give her up?  That remained a mystery and Kiska went on to add 8 years of love, sparkle and joy to our home.  She was a happy dog who seemed very glad to have joined our family.  That happiness was contagious and her daily walks connected us with neighbors and dogs and cats we otherwise would never have met.

She was occasionally mischievous and went through a phase of digging out of the back yard – only to circle the block and spend the day on the front porch waiting for us to come home.  On school days she knew her “auntie” would be home first and would cross the street to sit on her porch!  Molly the mailwoman created a friendly monster by giving her treats when she delivered the mail.  It was great watching her try to sneak into the mail truck!

Even though she was sick, she seemed happy until the end.  She ate treats while Dr. Gibson worked her calm, quiet and kind magic; it was at once beautiful and heart-wrenching and most importantly, peaceful for Kiska.  Due to her large size, we really couldn’t bury her at home.  We had her cremated and opted to not to pay for her ashes. Instead we used the money to honor her memory by sponsoring another sick dog (Sami!) in a foster home who needed care in her last months of life.

Kiska’s memory lives on in the hearts family and friends who loved her dearly.  Rest in peace, good dog! 

- Susan Drake, Portland, OR

I adopted Faldo (aka Bo Bo) and his little brother (not blood brothers) Little Man in 2003.We quickly became extremely close and I aways wondered what I would do that day I would have to let him go.  Well that day came June 2nd at home and I just can’t stop thinking about all the times I came home from work to the happy meows and head butts of my dear dear sweet little tabby buddy.  Faldo was a lap cat master and loved to sleep nestled between my left arm and side with his little head on my chest. I can’t begin to explain how much I love and miss my very very dear friend Faldo. I will love him forever.

- James Budlong, Milwaukie, OR

Undeath of Calypso

 There is no going out, nor

coming back in again

for any of us, anymore

No more hellos and goodbyes

just this final goodbye,

the ever remembrance

The reliving, the relieving

of your waiting and greeting,

your loving and bright being

as you once were

No more of our coming back,

nor you coming up

to be with us,

as we once were

separated by skin and fur

Expecting your appearance

in your familiar places,

us too, with you

feeling this ultimate change

We still think

that we hear you,

realize just how much

your love made our home

I’m so used to you,

in your huge presence

yet your tuxedo skin

has released you

Your final breath

I’ll never forget

a breath of relief

into grace itself

But your form

isn’t what kept you here

nor contained you, my dear

But for those moments

with lucky me

and your deep,

wise stare

I find you now,

not absent at all

your ways so true

I feel you everywhere

Graceful this gift

so grateful to know

that I never, ever

have to say goodbye now

Only hello,

dear Calypso

© 2010 Keenan Cheney

 (12/20/09 – 3 days after burial in our backyard)

Passing

 We open a door

for them

The door of release,

of relief

Leading to great light

Our great love,

through the door with them

Grateful, both I’s,

the inevitable crossing

made easier

© 2010 Keenan Cheney

 (written days after the passing of Calypso, while sitting in his favorite golden velvet chair)

 Dedicated to Dr. Lori Gibson, Compassionate Care, and all of our beloved animal family.

Our Chocolate Lab, Spirit, had been a part or our family for 15 years and insisted on being our protector till the very end.  For that, the least we could do was give her that same respect on her last day.

 Included you’ll find a picture of Spirit taken while camping with us at the beach.  She was known to steal your chair if it became vacant.

- Kim and Chris Conger, Vancouver, WA

There are few things in one’s life, and especially mine, of 75 years that leave a very deep and lasting impression. The first was meeting and then losing my sweet and beautiful wife of 30 years. The second was losing our little friend Gidget, a 15 pound black miniature poodle.

Gidget, affectionately known to the family as “Gidgee”, has been in the Galliano household since the age of 3 months. She was born in Jan of 1997 and spent the next 12 years in the family until November 1^st of 2009. She was not the only pet throughout my life, but she turned out to be a very special and important little standout creature.

Gidgee was a very social little dog, never demanding, who wanted nothing more than to just be with us. She was not a yipper, nor bothersome. She was also not a lap type dog, but would rather just lie on the floor in the same room with her family. She was also comfortable, tucked in close at our side on a chair, sofa, or in the car.

On a Sunday morning on April 9th of 2006, I lost my wife Dawn to cancer. Her wish was to remain at home, in the house she loved, until the end.

During this time, Gidgee sensed that her Mom was sick and for the last week until the moment of her death, wanted to be at the foot of her bed. All of our family, 5 children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and special friends were also at her bedside as she took her last breath. At the moment of Dawn’s last breath, we all noted that Gidgee seemed to look up to the ceiling, immediately stood up and wanted off of the bed. This will remain in our memories forever.

I understand that many non-dog lovers probably wonder why humans refer to themselves as “Moms and Dads” to their loved pets. Those that have never owned a pet have missed out on one of the truest forms of love and non-fault finding devotion that exists within the human world, and strangely from a non-human.

When my wife was healthy and active, Gidgee would sit on the back rest of the sofa facing the window that looked out at the street.  Each and every time my wife would return from shopping, etc., she would jump off of the sofa, and with an excited bark, head for the garage door to greet her Mom with her short tail wagging vigorously. After her Mom’s passing, Gidgee continued her daily vigil on the couch watching. Every time any tan colored car entered our cul-de-sac, she would excitedly jump down from the sofa and head to the garage entry door expecting to see her Mom.

After about three months, she gave this up. During the next three years this special little dog provided a great amount of comfort to me. She was always at either door when I returned home from errands, with that little pompom tail wagging.

She provided a presence for me in a house that, since Dawns passing, was now very quiet. Gidgee always slept on the bed when my wife was alive, but since preferred to lie on her little mattress near the foot of our bed. I was always comforted during the night, by her little soft snoring and wheezing.

In September of this year I noticed that Gidgee was developing a lameness in her back end. When I took her to the vet, they also discovered a very loud heart murmur and x-rays showed an enlarged heart. We put her on a heart medication, and some pain meds. Shortly after, she began to withdraw and would hide behind doors etc. This was so unlike her usually vibrant personality. About a week later she became totally immobile, could not stand or move. I had to carry her out to go potty. She had never ever gone in the house and I knew she had to be outside in the yard she was familiar with in order to go. On Saturday, Halloween day, when I took her out she could not even stand up. I decided then and there that I could not let her go any further and lose her dignity. I made the hard decision that she would depart in the home where she was loved, was comfortable, and had spent her entire life. I mulled over my decision throughout all of Saturday night.

At 1 am on Sunday morning November 1st, I sent an email to Lori Gibson at Compassionate Care and explained the situation. I expected to hear from her the next morning. Surprisingly I got an instant return email from Lori. She was very kind and comforting and said she was available early afternoon on Sunday. I explained to Lori that I could not wait that long, as I was not willing to let Gidgee go through the ordeal of even one more potty experience. She understood and said that she could come over prior to her other appointments and be here at 9 am.

I called my son and wife who lived close, and who Gidgee enjoyed visiting so very much. They had been over daily and had noticed Gidgee’s degradation the last few days. They agreed that I had made the correct decision. Sunday morning they arrived at about 7:30 am. My sweet widowed lady friend Erika, also called to see how Gidgee was doing. She said she would like to be here with me and Gidgee. Prior to meeting me and Gidgee, Erika was not a dog person. However since becoming acquainted with me, this little dog had won her over. She always greeted Erika with a wagging tale and a gift in her little mouth.

Gidgee was still very alert Sunday morning and her last day, but I somehow felt she was ready. Even though she was prone in the bedroom on a towel and could not stand, she gave me that certain look that meant, “Where is my food, Dad”. One begins to know from their expressions what they want. I went to the kitchen and prepared her food. I placed it on wax paper, laid it in front of her. She ate it all while in a prone position and actually wanted and got a second helping.

Just prior to Lori’s, arrival all of us present sat, or laid on the floor around her taking turns patting her little head and saying endearing things to her. While petting her, she licked my hand over and over, which was unusual for her. It was her way of saying “I understand Dad, don’t grieve, I am ready”

Lori arrived at 9 am. She was led into the bedroom. Gidgee who never met a stranger, would normally grab a gift, such as a toy or a milk bone and greet the newcomer. She went through the motions when she saw Lori, but was unable to rise. She was only able to wag that little tail. Lori immediately got onto the floor with all of us and began to pet Gidgee’s head. Gidgee looked so pleased. After Gidgee had settled back down and was comfortable, I told Lori we were ready. Lori administered a sedating injection into the loose skin on her back and Gidgee showed no pain. Within a few minutes Gidgee became drowsy and laid her little head on her front paws, closed her eyes and began to snore loudly. It was a special sound of comfort to me, as I realized I had not heard it the last few nights. I knew then that she was out of pain and resting comfortably. I motioned to Lori that it was okay now to let her go. Lori proceeded to administer the last shot. Gidgee did not give one indication of movement or pain. In less than 2 minutes Lori checked for a heart beat with her stethoscope and announced quietly, “She is gone”.

We all kissed her goodbye on her still little warm head, and wrapped her in a blue towel. Lori delivered her to Dignified Pet Services for cremation. Her remains will remain with me in the bedroom until I am gone. I have left instructions that her ashes will be buried in the family plot in The Dalles, Oregon with Mom and I, at my passing.

I feel blessed that we were so lucky to have as part of our family, such a special little dog as Gidgee. Even though I am 75 years old, and she was only with us for 12 years, she has left this family with many loved memories. To me it is wonderful and amazing that only 15 lbs. of a sweet puppy named “Gidget” that was only with us for a short 12 years, was able to leave  such a huge impression and footprint in our lives. Not only while here, but now that she has gone.

There was a sense of relief that again on a Sunday morning, nearly at the same time as her Mom, she had passed on so comfortably.

I was filled with a sad grief that my little friend was now the second one gone from my life. As she was dying, I said without realizing it that “Mom and her would be so happy to be together again Gidgee”.

The house will now seem very empty. I will miss them both very much, until we can be together again.

Eternal Peace now to you Sweet Gidgee and Mom. Love you both very much. Dad

PS. I want to thank Lori for providing such a needed humane “in house service”. Also want to mention Dignified Pet Services who handled Gidget’s cremation in such a caring way.

- Bruno Galliano, Vancouver, WA

Mine and Harry’s journey began 18 years ago when my then roommate left him behind not too long after his first year.  He has recently stepped off this journey and I’m having to learn to move forward without my Sunshine, without my Dear Sweet Boy, without my Little Cat.  What I have now are memories; some brilliantly colored, some faded to transparency and every one so precious, so dear, so sweet….. as he was. 
 
There was much that Harry loved besides me.  If there was a paper bag open, a box on its side, a cupboard closed- he was found in it.  He loved to go behind an open door and yell at the wall, loved to catch and eat moths, loved to be chased up and down halls and loved to sit on stairways to bat at people through railing slats in hopes of play.  He loved making new friends whether human or non and never needed to have a territory.  He loved talking and had a meow for every situation- the conversations we carried on through the years could fill novels.  But what he loved most was being kissed on the side of his face and especially at the base of his ear.   
 
Cancer found him in his 15th year. When he was diagnosed with 7 other ailments over these last 4 years, he rallied many many times but grew increasingly battle weary.  Though his body was succumbing, his spirit never did.  On the days he felt good, he still enjoyed occupying boxes, bags and cupboards, yelling at the walls, voicing his opinion on everything and spent hours comforted in my arms with kisses on his face.  He fought, and fought for years, against all that ailed him but my Sunshine began to fade to dusk and the battles came too fast and were too hard.
 
On the day I sent him on his way, he went bathed in sunshine and my tears, my hands on him and my love surrounding him.  When I laid that final kiss upon his face, I knew I had fulfilled my promise to him.  The day he was diagnosed with cancer, I promised Harry that I’d see him gentle into this and thanks to Lori’s compassion and my mom’s unwavering support; I was able to do that. 
 
Goodbye my Sunshine, my Dear Sweet Boy, my Little Cat, .  I will always love you.  Forever thank you. 
 
Harry Lucas – 4/4/90 – 10/8/09
 
- Jodie Lucas, Portland, OR

Miss Natasha passed away peacefully at home last night, a few days before her 19th birthday. 

She was born July 15, 1990 in Northridge, California.  She had a zest for life and was always curious about discovering new and interesting things and exploring the world around her.  Her first big adventure was at 6 weeks old when she was tucked inside a leather jacket and traveled on a Harley Davidson to meet Vanessa and Perseus at their new home in Reseda. They were later joined by Cassiopeia and Chelsea, who looked to Natasha as a second mother.  She and her companion cat, Percy, were together for 16 years, until his death in May 2006.

Tash had a long, full, and active life, with more adventure than many people have.  She lived in 15 homes in 4 states, flew on an airplane twice, and traveled extensively up and down the west coast and through Nevada.  She survived a difficult surgery following her ingestion of a ball of yarn in her kittenhood, and survived the 1994 Northridge earthquake in which her home was 1/2 mile from the epicenter.  Her favorite hobbies were sunbathing in a warm window, bird watching, napping and playing tag with her feline companions.  While living in Las Vegas she enjoyed hunting, catching and eating crickets.  In the last 2 years she had discovered a love for sitting on her front porch and walking in her garden, and did so even in the snow.  She enjoyed smelling and tasting flowers, and chasing butterflies; as recently as last Thursday she chased a moth.  She also enjoyed exploring inside our neighbor’s homes (invited or not) and exploring our basement and the storage units in it (also invited or not).  She was always polite, well mannered and a marvelous companion and conversationalist, and she would sit next to me on the couch daily to keep me company, and if spoken to she would always meow back on cue, as if we were having an actual conversation.  She had a happy, cheerful and loving personality and was always tolerant of the other cats in the house, and helped them by washing their faces and ears.  She liked the finer things in life including grilled salmon, steamed crab, a ham and cheese omelet for breakfast on Sundays, and steak, which she preferred medium-well.  Her philosophies included “why lie when you can lounge”, “why nap on the floor when there’s a couch”, “the bed is better that the couch”, and “why nap anywhere else if there is a warm windowsill available.”  

I am fortunate to have enjoyed the pleasure of her company for such a long time.  I loved her very, very much and will miss her dearly.

- Vanessa Conley, Portland, OR