Prayers and Passages

A Tribute to Gabi -- thrown away but saved and loved...

The whole time we are petting dogs and cats, we think we are touching them and it turns out they are touching us.
That is the case with this girl Gabi.
Our pal Della Wallace got her out of a dire circumstance. And that is her "after the makeover" photo. Before, she was ragged skin and bones, a dog without any evidence of love.
“Someone put her in a box and put her outside the old Little Elm pound. They had been closed for a several days and had a new location. Someone noticed the box and found her. They took her to the new pound. (Wonder she didn’t die then? It was in June 2012, hot) I went to see the  new ‘digs’ and she was the only one they had. I took her immediately. This is my Gabi! I am her Mumi!”
Here is what happened yesterday.
“Our hearts are broken,” Della wrote. “At 1:30 p.m. today our little Gabi went to the Rainbow Bridge. She stopped eating and drinking 2 days ago and wouldn’t even take water with a syringe.
“She had always had trouble with  balance but it was much worse these last few days.  She couldn’t get up on her own and when I helped her, as I did all through the night last night, she crashed into the walls and furniture. We took her today to the ‘Animal Hospital onTeasley Lane’ in Denton and Dr. Cassie Epstein was wonderful with her.  
“It seems my little girl was a lot older than we believed when we rescued her a 13 months ago. Dr. Epstein estimated that she was at least 12-years-old.  Her kidneys had stopped working and something was wrong in her brain. She was always falling over but nothing like the last two days.  
“Dr. Epstein agreed that maybe she was looking for a place to go to die when she dug herself into our box springs  last week (We had to cut her out). She looked fine then but she must have known something we didn’t.
“We had the little girl for 13 months and she gave us so much joy.  I hope she felt the same way.  We got her when some creep put her in a box and  threw her away like trash.  She is at the Rainbow Bridge now at peace.  David and I were both with her when she made that last journey.  We miss her terribly already and will have a small funeral in the rose garden in  a day or so. Tearfully,  Della.”
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Tricia Todd -- a rescuer, a friend to animals and people...

The mission of a rescuer is to protect animals. 
You protect them for as long as you can and even beyond that because of the strength in the soul. Metroplex Mutts is continuing to protect animals today even though its heart is broken by an awful event.
Founder Tricia Todd died Saturday morning. Cancer. You can read tributes to Tricia on this Facebook site HERE. You may also post messages there.
According to folks at Metroplex Mutts, the viewing is from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. Tuesday and the funeral will be at 10 a.m. Wednesday -- both at Sparkman Richardson Funeral Home, 1029 S. Greenville Ave. in Richardson. The obituary should be posted at some point Monday at www.sparkmanrichardson.com.
And we would be remiss if we did not suggest that you can go to www.metrooplexmutts.org and see adoptables that need help.  The mission to protect continues thanks to someone who was involved.
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Scout -- A big dog who won a heart...

Through the years we’ve written about rescuer Sherry Kunz saving all sorts of animals on the streets who desperately need to find their ways into good homes.
This time the story is about one who made his way into Sherry’s heart. Here is what a mourning Sherry wrote.
“My heart is broken. This past weekend, we had to put our 9-year-old, epileptic Lab Scout, to sleep.
“Scout was my second rescue. He was dumped in my neighborhood and came bouncing up to my husband Andrew in the garage one Sunday in April 9 years ago. I had never owned a big dog before and really didn’t know how to care for one. I tried to find someone to take him but had no luck.
“I soon realized why he had been abandoned. He had separation anxiety and IBS. After many months of trying different foods, we finally got his IBS under control. After he had torn up 2 sofas and a chaise lounge, I gave up on thinking his separation anxiety could be ignored. When Scout was 2 years old, he began to have epileptic seizures. We battled this horrible disease for 7 years and were never able to get the seizures under control. We tried several different medications but he still continued to seize on a monthly basis.
“A few months back, he began to develop what we were told was fatty tumors. Since they were fatty, the vet felt there was no need to worry. Scout had his worst seizures ever in late January. He didn’t bounce back like he normally did. We began to see him loose his legs and fall. He could no longer climb up on the couch and also had no energy. We thought at first it was his meds. We began reducing the phenobarbital but there was no improvement. 
“I took him back to the vet and tests showed he had extremely low thyroid. He was treated for this but there was still no improvement. We were about to go on vacation for 7 days and were worried about boarding him. We left him with the vet so that they could monitor him but if he got better, he was to be picked up by the boarding facility the day before we returned. I called the vet twice during that time and was assured he was doing better. He was still wobbly but was no worse than before. 
“The boarders picked him up on Friday. When we came to pick him up Saturday, Scout could not stand up. They said he had been like that since they picked him up the day before. We took him home, hoping he was just tired out. I laid down with him with my arm around him until he fell asleep. When he woke up, I got his food ready, hoping it would motivate him to try and get up. He couldn’t. I had to put the bowl in front of him. He barely had the energy to eat but he finished every bite. We tried helping him go outside but all he could do was plop over on his side. Scout was never able to stand up. He could only move his head. 
“We took him to a 24 hour Emergency Vet clinic. After his examination, the vet told us Scout had no feeling in his back legs. He had suffered some kind of neurological injury or he had a tumor on his spine. She said the only way to determine that for sure was with an MRI and because of his size, it would have to be done at a human facility. That being said, there was no guarantee that surgery would fix him. She told us, if he were her dog, she would not want him to suffer any longer. We cried, we debated and we came to the conclusion that Scout had suffered enough in his life and it was time to let him rest. We fed him some treats, because he loved to eat. I held his hand and kissed him while his life passed from him.
“I now know why people whose pets have passed away swear they will never get another one. I’ve gone through this twice and both cases were gut-wrenching. I still have 4 to go and I’m not sure my heart can take it. I have the greatest respect for people who rescue and work in the veterinarian field but this is too much hurt for me to endure. I’ll have to rescue in a more indirect way. I get too attached and involved. They are my children and I love them as if I’d birthed them....
“The main thing I want to get across is, my beautiful boy is at the Rainbow Bridge and his tiny brother Punkin is waiting for him. Goodbye, my baby. I will love you always and forever. 
“I've attached 2 photos. The first is what he looked like before the seizures took their toll. In the second, you can see how gray his face had gotten and he was content to be a pillow for Bayley the feral pup.”

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Two stories of human hearts touched by other souls...

The good heart can reach across great distances.
In these Prayers & Passages tributes we have evidence in the stories of dogs whose help did not come from just down the street.

MARIA VALTADOROS WRITES LOVINGLY OF ‘MY LITTLE KARLA’

Maria Valtadoros, from Michigan, has been one of our loyal readers and contributors from the beginnings of Readlarrypowell.com. And now she has some sadness in her life.
“It never gets easier when our rescues pass,” she writes.
People who support “puppy mill” attitudes should consider the life of this dog.
Maria sent the three photos of Karla -- that’s “before” in the kennel, “after”  as she looks up in the picture with the tile floor in the background and in that third photo, she “fell asleep in my arms like a baby,” so Maria snapped a picture of Karla, able to sleep within the security of a home.
Maria lives in Sterling Heights, Mich. She has family in Trikala, Greece. That is where Karla came from -- family connections helped find this dog and save her.
Here is Maria’s tribute: “Can a person fall in love online? I often had asked myself that question and the answer, my friends, is YES! I saw my little Karla on Facebook. There is a long story that goes with her and she came far away to be with me. To make it short, she was used as a breeder. 
“She was kept in a small cage for most of her 5 years. When the cruel sub-humans that used her tired of her, they threw her in the street and she got hit by a car. She was found 1 week later ... and had suffered a head injury as it caused her to go partially blind/deaf. As you can see from her before picture this is how I fell in love. She came scared and uncertain of having 3 other siblings here.

“She acclimated quickly. She loved to go for walks, ride in the car, beg for my food and had the cutest talent, when cradled like a baby would instantly fall asleep (as you can see in her photo). 
“Last week she began to change, she was sick and her liver was shutting down. On Monday the 11th I was called by my vet to come quickly. I had to saygoodbye. After 6 short weeks. my little baby, whose life was filled with pain and sadness, had to go. She was fostered by a wonderful women for about a year prior to my getting her. As the foster mom stated, she had a wonderful 18 months. I miss her, but I know she is running free and is happy.
“To those out there that don’t believe love can happen at first sight, you may be surprised. Karla took another piece of my heart that I didn’t think could be taken again after losing my 1st baby, Suzi. I wonder now how much of my heart is left for other rescues?”

SWEETIE, IN NEED OF PRAYER IN BURNS FLAT

Our longtime rescue tipster Terry Lynn Fisher of Burns Flat, Okla., also knows the way people can fall for a dog online. This is Sweetie. Sweetie is a dog in need of some extra help -- the kind that reaches beyond pill bottles and cuddling. She’s in a bad way.
Several weeks ago Terry Lynn sent out an alert to try tog et hep for Sweetie, a Golden/Cocker mix “the vet thinks is somewhere between 13 and 15 years old.”
Terry Lynn explains, “I saw her picture and KNEW I could not let her die at the pound she was in. We actually got her out SIX minutes before she would have been destroyed. ... I saw her face on the Internet. She was going to be put down at 5 p.m. ... But I KNEW when I saw her sweet, precious face, I WOULD NOT LET HER DIE. .., I found someone to get her, and she was saved SIX minutes before she would have been killed. We brought her home, with the hopes of finding wither a forever home or even a rescue that would take her. We had a few people that seemed interested, but it did not work out with any of them.
“Sweetie is a golden/cocker mix.... she is between 13 and 15 years old.... she has a huge tumor on her side, that the vet said did not seem to cause her pain... she is on pain meds for arthritis.... and she is playful, loving, sweet, and just full of life....”
Then came this note on Thursday. “I woke up this morning and as they all ran to go out, I noticed she was wobbly, walking sideways. She sneezed and actually fell on her face,” Terry Lynn wrote. “I gave her a treat and she seemed a little better after awhile.  I came home at lunch and she was shaking and her head and eyes were twitching. She could not walk straight and I could not get her to focus on me at all.
"I found someone to take her in and when they came to get her, she was laying on her side and her head was cocked at a weird angle. She would not even get up nor look at me. They rushed her to the vet and it was discovered she had a STROKE.... Because of her age and all, they got her stable and started on meds. ... The main thing I am asking for are prayers.”"
Terry Lynn feared it was “decision time.”
On Sunday morning, she sent this update: “We went to see our old girl yesterday. She was very excited to see all of us. She is alert and able to stand and eat. She was walking around, and while still a little shaky, she looked good.
“They said there was really nothing more they can do for her.”
Terry Lynn has a plan.
“So this afternoon, we will bring her home. We will no longer be looking for a foster or forever home. Doc said she probably doesn't have a whole lot of time left, so we will let her live her life out here, with people she knows and trusts. We have fallen in love with this old soul so we will make sure she is comfortable and loved for however long she has. Thanks all of you for your kind words and prayers. I am so glad we saw her picture and decided to bring her home, out of the kill pound she was in. Our Sweetie, what a beautiful little soul she is. I honestly feel she has touched our lives in a way we can't describe. It will be so hard when we lose her, for even though we have only had her a short time, she touched our souls. Again, thanks for the prayers, Terry Lynn.”
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Shiloh -- Rescued fellow, enduring love...

This is a dog who has a link to Readlarrypowell.com and people with big hearts. In particular the heart of Becky Dodge who, out in Weatherford where the house has an empty spot, is still aching for her little guy Shiloh.
As she told us this week, it was on Monday the 4th that “I took him on that so hard final ride.
“I still find myself look at the spots he liked to sleep and even occasionally starting to get his food ready. I know that will pass and it is easier now than it was for the first day or so.
“I think that the decision, even though always a very difficult one to make is one that we must make for our friends.  Letting them hurt or be scared or slowly stop eating (like Shiloh) -- and then hurt even more and not know why -- is a criminal act when all they want is to love. Making it hurts us, but helps them and that is what they need from us at the end.”
Here’s her tribute to Shiloh and you can see that this was a dog that touched more than one human: 
“The lovely little man Shiloh went on his last journey Monday. You may remember, I adopted him from Nancy Underwood's group in 2009 when he was 12 after seeing an item about him in your column.”
[Larry aside:The top photo is one from Becky’s collection of her beloved Shiloh. The other was the one Nancy sent to us in July 2009 to help find Shiloh a good home -- it helped Shiloh find the best home. He'd been so matted that he could barely walk. He was one sincerely discarded dog -- until Becky's heart came along. Her story of Shiloh continues.]
“He came to me with a cherry eye which, according to the vet records, had been untreated for about 8 years. 
“Shortly after coming to my house he lost the eye but even when at the emergency vet to have it removed he did not want to do anything but investigate this new place. Imagine a Cocker Spaniel with one eye which had popped out wanting to investigate every corner of the treatment room while the vet was trying to examine him - that was Shiloh. He loved exploring and thoroughly investigated every place he ever went.
“Shiloh was a sweet, gentle boy who only wanted to give love and be loved in return and I certainly loved him for the 4 years I knew him. His favorite place was either sleeping beside me in bed or laying at the end of the couch where he had easy access to my feet and legs so he could spend a lot of time licking/kissing them. He never wanted to be far from where I was at and as he got older he insisted on following me everywhere I went. I don't think I've ever known a more loving dog.
“The last year he started having some bad health issues - two episodes of an inner ear problem which caused severe dizziness and thus loss of appetite. He recovered from both of those but each time the recovery period was longer than the one before.
“Around Christmas he started to lose interest in eating and for the last couple of weeks would only eat when I hand fed him. He had been having some cognitive problems for some about a year as well and that also continued to increase. The vet described the cognitive problems as ‘in a human this would be advanced Alzheimer's.’
“During the last few weeks it became obvious that he did not know where he was at, getting lost in the house or entering/leaving through the dog door.
“I'd known for some time that the day was coming for Shiloh and on Monday, after watching him struggle through the weekend with the cognitive problems as well as the progressive weakness of his legs, etc., I took him on his last ride. 
“For a few minutes on that trip my Shiloh was back - he knew me and I think that he also, on some level, knew that this was his last ride. Even before we got to the vet's office he'd faded again and the shell of Shiloh was all that remained.
“I miss him but am convinced that the couple of minutes on that last ride when Shiloh was back was his way of saying that he wanted to go now rather than exist as a shell for a few more months.”
The story of Shiloh is so obviously a love story. A lesson in love.
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Dianne Watson -- A Rescuer, An Angel...

Last fall, the great Dianne Watson and her husband Ben, mindful of Dianne’s awful diagnosis, hosted a “party for animal people” in a banquet room of one of those new hotels in northern Garland.
It drew a full house.Ben and Dianne used to live in North Texas but lately had been living in the Amarillo area. They moved, but part of Dianne’s heart stayed here. You can do that sort of thing when you have a heart as big as Texas.
She kept monitoring Arlington Animal Services where she was a legendary volunteer. She kept up with North Texas rescue efforts, rescue groups, shelter work, shelter needs, animal needs, etc., from way out there. And she was a member of the West Texas Chow Rescue. She emailed many bulletins and opportunities to help Lord knows how many people and critters “back home.”
So, the party obviously drew a lot of rescue-oriented animal people.  I was among them -- flattered to have been invited. And I wrote about it for Readlarrypowell.com. [That’s a photo from the party. There are many scenes like this from that evening. Dianne, typically, surrounded by animal folks and chatting energetically and laughing a lot.]
The was a paragraph I wrote that now becomes a bittersweet observation.
“One of the things about this big room of people was that there was laughter at every table. Not polite, quiet laughter, but loud ‘enjoying the company’ laughter.” Dianne and Ben brought all that laughter together.
My theory is that in the Hereafter, there is a new opportunity to enjoy a lot of laughter, a lot of happy greeting of animals and rescuers and adoptors who have already, as animal people say, “crossed the Rainbow Bridge.”
Here is the note that tough, loving Ben sent around Tuesday. And it is followed by a message from Dianne.
When you read these things, you’ll realize how much love is a part of rescue and happiness.
Ben wrote:
“It is with great sadness and a very heavy heart that I must tell you that Dianne has crossed over the Rainbow Bridge to be with her father, mother and beloved fur kids that have been waiting on her. She is now free from pain and suffering and is enjoying eternity with her Chan, Captain Jack, Laddie and all of the wonderful dogs that are already across the bridge.”
[Larry aside: Chan is the golden Chow, Captain Jack is that black dog and Laddie is the third dog. Tails must surely be wagging in the Hereafter. They were part of the signature on Dianne's emails. Back to Ben’s note.]
“Dianne’s last few days were spent at the BSA Hospice in Amarillo where she received excellent and very compassionate care. The kindness and caring of her nurses was truly amazing. They were so thoughtful and their main goal was keeping Dianne as comfortable as possible. She left us on 12 February 2013 at 6:20 a.m.
“It was a beautiful snowy morning she would have loved to see. She was peaceful and pain-free at the end. I was at her side holding her hand when her time came. She fought her cancer until the end but her body finally gave out and she has left us in body but not in spirit. It has been a very emotional ordeal for both Dianne and I. There were so many highs and lows. One day she would be talkative and we would be discussing her care once I took her home and the next day she was unresponsive. It seems that she would never reach the level of her last high point, always lower. Cancer is a terrible disease, especially when it affects the brain.
“I find it so hard to let her go. We knew her cancer was going to win in the end but I was hoping for more time with her. I tried to prepare myself emotionally but I wasn’t ready in the end. I am going to miss her so very much. She had such a big and caring heart and my days will be so empty without her. We had a wonderful 21 years (married 19 years in September) together and she will always be in my heart.
“I will be taking Dianne back to Pittsburgh to be buried with her father and mother.
"As a rescuer to the last, she has requested to be buried in her scrubs with the chows on the shirt, the necklace and bracelet that were given to her by her rescue friends and the ashes of her fur-ever kids. Her wishes will be granted.
Please know how very much I appreciate all of the prayers and support you have given to Dianne and I since she was diagnosed last June. You have given me comfort and at times a shoulder to lean on. She was so proud and happy of the turnout at the party we had in Garland. She got to see most of you for one last time. I just wish it were possible to have a service for her in the DFW area, but I know you will all understand. Dianne wrote her eulogy a while back that I will be including in this email. I read it for the first time last week as I never had the heart, and as you read it, you will understand why. As you will note, even in the end, her animals were utmost in her heart.
“Dianne’s email (retmastersgt@aol.com) will no longer be answered. My email is plt1095@aol.com for all who wish to correspond. Due to the excellent and compassionate care Dianne received at the hospice, I am requesting that instead of flowers; please make your donation to the following in Dianne’s name: I have included a link to the website. Olivia’s Angels, PO Box 950, Amarillo, Texas 79105. (The link is HERE.)
“There will be so many of Dianne’s friends that will want to know of her passing and I know this original email will go to so few so please forward it to all that I have missed. Again, thank you all for your support and prayers. Ben.”
And now, thanks to thoughtful Ben, we proudly, though sadly, present what is labeled “Dianne’s Eulogy.” Get some tissue. This is what she wrote.
Dianne’s Eulogy
“If you are hearing my words then I have lost my battle with cancer. But this is not a time to grieve, but rather to celebrate my life.
“I never earned a college degree, or a 6-figure income. I wasn’t interested in designer clothes or expensive jewelry. Like my mom and dad, all I wanted was a house and a yard. I spent thousands of dollars on our home and yard; an in-ground pool, a redwood deck, Japanese teahouse, flagstone patio, pea gravel pathways, hundreds of shrubs and several trees. Most we lovingly planted ourselves. We did all this to enjoy the company of our friends and neighbors we cared about. We all gathered at various homes to hold cookouts and celebrate birthdays, anniversaries etc. And of course, our dogs meant as much to us as any human kids ever could.
“For years, every summer, my dad would make his annual trek from Pittsburgh to Texas to visit us. We would sit under the teahouse listening to the birds and wind chimes while drinking coffee. He would help me feed the squirrels, birds, coyotes, raccoons and all the wildlife I cared for daily in our back forty acreage. It was a daily task no matter the weather but one I never viewed as work. This was my life and I have no regrets.
"I am most proud of all the years I devoted and dedicated to volunteering at the Arlington Animal Shelter and saving homeless dogs, especially my beloved breed of choice, the Chow. Some folks would argue that all of us in dog rescue are obsessed hoarders but those of us who mind our limits are passionate, not obsessed. Some women were meant to have children, I wasn’t. It was always about caring for dogs and wildlife. My life has always been surrounded by animals. Never will I regret my decision.
“I have enjoyed nearly 20 years with the most loving, generous and supporting man on the face of the earth. I love you, Ben.
I have led a rewarding and fulfilling life even if shorter than I had hoped it would be. So if God has decided that I can’t stay with Ben, know that I will be with the one other person I’ve loved most in my life besides Ben, I will be at peace with my dad.
“My personal goals might not have been as ‘lofty’ as some but I have achieved them and enjoyed every minute of doing so. In closing, I love and miss you all. One day we’ll see each other again as I believe I’ll be reunited now with my dad, mom and my special dogs on the other side of Rainbow Bridge. God Bless You.
“Love, Dy.”
And she closes with “If you love someone enough, you can still hear their laughter after they are gone. Listen for my laughter and smile.”
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RIP Rocky -- a dog with his ways...

The thing about a dog is you never know how the dog will touch your heart.
Sometimes it’s in spite of the reality of things.
Deborah Lynn Verner has been doing rescue for years -- she used to be Deborah Trevino, then -- well, you’ll see why she’s back to Verner as you read this tribute to a dog named Rocky. He got to her heart, too. It wasn't the traditional path.
“Rocky was my ex's dog that I ended up with after my ex left 4 years ago..”
Yes, the ex left and she got the dog.
Her nickname for Rocky was “Mutt Mutt.” He was a challenge.
“He was the kind of dog that didn't want to snuggle on the couch, put up a fight when you tried to brush or groom his thick fur, etc.”
Deborah, who lives in Garland, has long been a contact with Readlarrypowell.com -- one of her more determined efforts has been helping dogs dumped in the Malloy Bridge Road area of southeastern Dallas. Those dogs she didn’t know when she pulled them to safety. This guy, she did.
“We got Rocky when he was approximately 2 months old. Princess took after him like a Mother Dog.  But as Rocky got older and mature, he started turning on her often.  He made her life miserable, even up to the end of her life when I had to put her down on May 18, 2012.  And, even, recently, he turned and attacked my Chester Wester, a 4 1/2-year-old Collie/Blue Heeler boy.”
[That photo shows Rocky and Princess sharing a quiet moment in the yard.]
Deborah continues, “Rocky, approximately 10 1/2 years old, was an Alaskan Malamute. He was fully vetted (up-to-date on shots, neutered, heartworm-negative). He belonged to my ex, who left him with me 4 years ago.
“Rocky was very territorial, and would fight the others for a bone. It got to a point where I couldn't give them bones due to his aggression.
“Over the course of 2012, his behavior was intolerable. He made my 12-and-a-half-year-old Princess' life miserable, by constantly attacking her. She suffered from a degenerative condition, which his attacks only made worse.
“After Princess was gone, he continued with his aggression toward my Chester Wester, a Border Collie/blue heeler mix that I rescued from the Garland Shelter, 4 years ago. 
“Rocky was terrified of storms, and he would NOT come out of his doghouse to be brought into the house for anything.
“When taking treats out of your hand, Rocky tends to snatch them, nearly taking your hand off as well. Rocky, despite being very dog aggressive, he loved the cats, rather ignored them. 
“In August 2012, Rocky was diagnosed with severe arthritis in his lower back and hips.  This required him to be on Rimadyl, and Tramadol on a daily basis. In recent months, he was having more and more trouble getting around. He cried a lot more.  He also had severe trembling in his hind legs at times, which he could not control, and you could tell it would bother him when he was trying to sleep.
“He would have great difficulty getting comfortable. He would have a ‘blank’ look on his face.  He was no longer happy in life.  Rocky, also, had severe growths on him, which the vet deemed as benign.  But, he had one on his backside, which bothered him on a daily basis, and was continuing to grow. 
“Despite his severe aggression issues, I still took care of him all the years my ex has been gone. It saddens me that he never came to visit Rocky for the last couple of years. Rocky loved his Dad.
“I will admit, there were times that I disliked him because of what he did to Princess and Chester Wester, but I still showed him love.
“Putting him down (01/14/2013) was very hard.  It was a harder decision than Princess' was, because he wasn't near in the shape she was when I made the decision, making it easier knowing she needed relief from her suffering.  
“I didn't want Rocky to get in the shape that she was in at the end.  Plus, it wasn't as peaceful for him as it was Princess.  It broke my heart watching him try to fight at the end  (past the point of no return...too late to say ‘STOP;)....He kept looking at the door. He wouldn't look at me, even though I was holding his face looking at him in the end. RIP Rocky.”
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Autumn and tributes...

            [These words from frequent contributor and someone who adores animals, Sarah Hays, pay wondrous tribute to dear friends. Please read what Sarah has written.]
            Autumn's a tough season. It reminds us of the circle of life in the hardest ways.
            The first Saturday of this fall dawned crisp and fresh after our first slight cold snap in Lubbock ... really a beautiful day, except Tribble (left) didn't come to breakfast.
            To know Tribble might not have been to love him. We called him "fuzzy buzzsaw" for the way he treated people he didn't trust, or who trespassed on his personal space.
            Over the years since he came to stay with us "for a little while," back in March 2000, we got accustomed to his big lynx-like feet, his little lynx-like face with grass-green eyes in shockingly-white rings, his long dark-gray fur, his very serious and always-ready claws, and his amazing toughness. 
            Tribble, as my son put it, was a scrapper to the end: He survived roaming dogs, some careless pellet-gun shooter, and more than his share of cat fights. Tribble was an ornery little cuss who definitely lived on his terms. Best to let him, because if he felt trespassed upon he'd draw blood with a lightning-fast swat that served as first and only warning as well as retribution. But if you happened to be one of his chosen few trusted friends, he'd love you, on his terms, in his way, just about to death. 
         Tribble adamantly refused confinement to an indoor life, though in bad cold or rainy weather he'd sometimes deign to eat inside or stay indoors overnight. He far preferred his freedom and a nest in the barn; Tribble showed up by his dish for breakfast, though, as surely as the sun rose in the East.
         Until that Saturday, when he didn't ... and Kelly found him, curled up if he'd just fallen asleep.
         Autumn struck again on October's first Saturday. 
         My buddy Bearcat (right) couldn't have been more unlike Tribble if he'd come from another species, or a different planet. No gentler soul ever took shape in a cat's body than Bearcat, who loved people and loved to play. Like all Maine coon mixes, Bearcat had a heavy thick double coat of very long silky fur. As he got older, if the sun hit his coat just right, dark-red highlights showed up in that classic black-cat fur. He had enormous golden eyes, magnificent whiskers he'd clearly inherited from his mother, and a tiny, soft, slightly soprano meow completely out of proportion to the rest of him. 
           As he grew up he learned to climb onto my shoulder to see what I might be up to, a habit he kept -- although later he mostly used it to surprise me -- well past reaching his full size of more than four feet long and seventeen pounds. Bearcat must have been at least part Labrador Retriever -- he loved to play fetch, and he loved to play with water. When his toys were tossed just right, he could easily out jump Michael Jordan for a mid-air catch; he might carry a toy back to be pitched again a dozen times or more during his prime. 
            While he didn't care for being brushed or having his feet handled, with children he seemed to know they knew no better, and he spent hours playing with Bandit, a rescue kitten who became his constant companion and partner in devilment in 2002. 
            Just this morning, I found Bandit (left) taking a drink the way Bearcat taught him to do: dip one foot in the water, then lick the water off.
            I think Bandit may miss his mentor as much as we humans do. After Samantha (right) arrived in May, Bearcat stepped up first to welcome her, show her the ropes, and cuddle her to sleep.
            Over summer Bearcat began to fail -- first gradually, then faster, until he'd lost more than half his body weight and seemed to lose all his good spirits. Ours are the best vets in the world, who ruled out kidney failure, diabetes, bad teeth and stomatitis but could not, in the end, rule out cancer. So, at 15 years and 3 months, Bearcat followed his littermate, Twocat (left), over the rainbow bridge.   
            Yesterday about this time, the Princess Kymba, mother of Bearcat and Twocat, went running out the front door to roll around in the yard; no amount of chasing or coaxing, even with treats, persuaded her to come back inside. She wanted to bask in the sun and watch the ring-neck doves under the live oaks, a heartening indication of her further recovery after dental work in March. Before Kymba (below right) came along, my husband hadn't been a cat person; like Bearcat, whose good manners and gentle insistence on exchanging affection with everyone won over even my parents many years ago, Kymba changed people's minds about cats, starting with my beloved's.
            When he found her, newborn and abandoned by her own very young, very clueless feral mother, my husband brought Kymba into the house. That mother cat managed to drown in a puddle under the porch before Kymba reached weaning age; but by then our whole family had fallen for the fluffy little calico. The kitten grew up indoors on canned food and reconstituted milk.
Eighteen and a half years elapsed ... time for Rushlight (left) to join our family, Kymba to have her own kittens and time for them to grow up. She outlived two of the three. 
               We had time for the grade-school boys she delighted as a kitten to turn into grown men themselves, with homes (and cats) of their own. She introduced us to the world's best vets by developing pyometra before her kittens were three days old, and taught us, by not just surviving but flourishing with their care, to expect miracles from those same great vets. Last night, just as he had her first night, my husband found her, alone in the grass. This time, though, no one could help.
She may have collided with a car, although we can't be certain.
                We miss them all.
Sarah and Kelly Hays, Lubbock
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Cosmo -- a real friend and a fellow of note

        Whatever I write isn’t going to do this dog justice.
             Words can't match a touch, a look, a sensation of companionship.
        There are those who think Heaven can’t get any better than it already is, but since Tuesday morning you can be guaranteed that it is an even sweeter place.
        Cosmo the Dog has gone back home. Back to Heaven. Yes, that’s the way we see it. All dogs don’t go to Heaven, all dogs go back to Heaven.
        I’m sure he’ll be happy Up There. They have harps.
        He liked to listen to Martha play the harp. Most of the time. He and the other dogs would gather in a semi-circle and, as she played, then slowly slide from sitting to prone and into a gentle nap.
        But there was that Christmas incident
        Martha recalls, “Cosmo was nearly unfailingly patient with his humans, except for one time.”
        Her harp teacher had assigned her to learn what she calls her “least favorite Christmas carol…‘Little Drummer Boy.’”
        She was practicing the piece while Cosmo, a harp fan, as are all our pets, was in the room keeping her company.
        After an hour of listening to her play the repetitive notes of "Little Drummer Boy" over and over, Cosmo got up, waddled over to her, raised up, balanced on his short hind end, reached over with one front paw and gently pulled her arm away from the strings.
        He had had enough. "You and me both, buddy," Martha said.
        FYI: A long time ago, Cosmo, seen here napping next to one of Martha's harps, was memorialized by the first harp piece Martha composed, the gentle and sweet "Cosmo's Smile." (See and hear a performance HERE.)
        On Monday evening, Cosmo finally became too ill to repair – things began to distress him. He was unhappy. So, on Tuesday morning, we gently, kindly helped send him on. It was time. 
        Let’s be clear: We’re talking about The World’s Greatest Dog.  I’ll explain that shortly. (And we’ve never really met one that wasn’t, though Cosmo has supporting evidence. That's Mister Mo on the couch with Rosie on the right and Baby Jane Doe taking it easy at the other end of the sofa.)
        See that old dog face? Used to be a mostly solid black young dog face. And he smiled. When he smiled his smile looked exactly like that of former presidential candidate Steven Forbes – lips tight to the teeth and slightly askew. I’m not kidding. (The Cosmo’s Smile video ends with his full-on toothy grin – we’ve got a photo of his smile somewhere – our vast critter photo files are, well, not organized.) 
        There was never any mistake about this: Cosmo was Martha’s dog. My funspouse was Cosmo’s darling and he was hers. MoMo was her baby. All the other dogs and cats knew it – with the exception of Bob the Big Black Cat, Martha’s possessive soulmate. The late Bob owned Martha. Oh, they all own Martha. That’s how she’s wired. (Yes, she enjoys dressing the dogs festively -- that's Mo in his tinsel collar.)
        We do need to note that the only time Cosmo ever wavered was when his first vet hired an extraordinarily beautiful young woman with her hair in cornrows and a smile that would knock your eyes out. When he walked into the clinic, Cosmo went looking for her. He abandoned all but pursuit of this woman. When she spoke to him and bent down to pet his head and hug his neck, he shuddered like a teenager in love. Darnedest thing.
        What kind of dog was Cosmo? He was a Dallas street dog – didn’t fit comfortably into a category other than “member of the family.” A stray? In Dallas? The devil you say.
        We found him years before the city had a limit on animals. He was our third or fourth dog. Came into a house with four cats – one of which, little gray Spike, jumped on his back and rode him like a cowboy to say hello. Cosmo was alarmed but not angry. They worked things out.
        Cosmo had a black coat with a white blaze. – hair like a Lab, maybe. He also had prick ears, a kind of pointed but kind of floppy. His nose wasn’t blunt but sort of short. He had stubby Bassett-like legs, big paws, the tail of a Chow, the girth of a chowhound and the demeanor of an angel. When standing, he was foot-ruler high at the shoulders and a little bit broader.
        He only ever had disagreements with our big ol’ Great Dane/Lab mix Hambone Jack -- and they generally worked things out during their more than a decade together. Hammy did have a noticeable notch in one of his ears, proof that Cosmo could reach up and snap when Hammy abandoned his generally sweet nature. Such spats were unnerving – they’d shake me and Martha but a half-hour later those two clowns would go romping out the door together.
        Where did Cosmo come from? We don’t know – we found him in the neighborhood but who knows where angels originate.
        We picked him up off the side of the road at Ledbetter and I-35 a long time ago.  Martha opened the car door and he jumped right in with her and thus the love affair with “Pretty MoMo” began.
        Martha named the spot “Mo Corner” years ago.
        On his veterinary file, the earliest date of a visit was 1994. Until he was well into his gray-muzzled years, he lived an extraordinarily healthy life – got his shots, got his food, got his treats.
        If memory serves, he only ever had two surgeries – one to remove testicles, the other to remove a growth on his side.
        Oh, and he had a bar card. Kind of. He wasn’t board certified, but he had a limited practice.
        People who have gotten business letters from me may have seen that they were CC’d to “Nathan Wolfman, PC.” A lot of people think that “PC” refers to an attorney as a “professional counselor.” In this case PC was “Personal Canine.”
        When I cited him, I’d read to him what I’d written – in case he had any objections.
        He never lost a case. When I would grow weary of being annoyed by magazine solicitors or other pains in the neck, I would write a nice letter suggesting that they take me off their call or mailing lists and I would CC: Nathan Wolfman, PC. Not once did an entity continue to contact us. Not once. So Cosmo, doing business as Nathan Wolfman, PC, was a triumphant dog.
        He could work a crowd, too. He had one trick. He would be standing and, if he thought it would help get a pat on his head, he would sit on his haunches, lean back, hold up both his front legs and smile with a twinkle in his eye. My late mom-in-law adored this dog and always asked him to “do your trick!” He’d oblige gracefully.
        People may think he was named after Cosmo Kramer, the character on Seinfeld. But he was named a long time before Kramer’s name became known (Season 6 in 1995).
        Our pal just seemed like a Cosmo. Suave and entertaining, you know? And his last name was Corleone. Cosmo Corleone. It went together. Sauve and entertaining with an implication of a serious side that would “make you an offer you couldn’t refuse.”.
        As recently as Monday morning Cosmo was still a gamer. He was healthy enough to contest Inky the Cocker for an animal cracker I accidentally slid across the kitchen floor. They looked like a couple of old and hairy hockey players going after a puck. Cosmo beat Inky to the puck.
        Cosmo’s gait had been slowed by arthritis for years and lord knows what else bothered him. He didn’t whimper, didn’t complain – though he would offer three shrill barks if he thought his meal wasn’t arriving quickly enough.
        He was so determined to not be burdensome. Even when his walking was measured in feet instead of yards, he’d still try to make sure he got outside at the right time.
        And at night, when he got ready to go to bed, he’d “fetch” Martha and lead her down the hall to his room – the one he shared with Martha’s big harp.
        A few months ago we thought he was experiencing something awful and we took him to his vet, Dr. Vladi De Jong, who shook his head at the dog’s advanced age. Cosmo was pretty much past the point of being able to survive any serious surgery.
        A day or so later, all the tests came back and stunned everybody – by the numbers, he was just about the healthiest old dog in Dallas. He had developed a sporatic incontinence, which annoyed him. But we were mindful of his condition and helped him get in and out. 
        After that vet visit, however, Dr. De Jong said he thought he detected a little touch of congestive heart failure in this semi-incontinent dog and prescribed – you guessed it – a diuretic. What’s life without a challenge, eh?
        On Monday night, after an apparently healthy day, Cosmo became unfixably ill. Whatever was causing his internal problem would have required a surgery that he probably would not live through.  Recovery would have been torturous – even if whatever was attacking him could be beaten. So, it was time.
        We heard him whimper one time on Tuesday morning – we’d never heard him whimper before.
        Since our earliest vet record on Cosmo is dated 1994 and he was probably a year or two old when we picked him up off the street, we were dealing with quite an old dog. Old dog, ancient soul.
        He was a graceful, polite person of manners and grace every day of his life. And that is more than I can say for me or most people.
        So, we reach this point of explanation. What makes Cosmo the Greatest Dog Ever?
        Back in 1996, Martha bought a car from a Chevy dealership in DeSoto. After a few days she had to take the car back to get its new license plates. She took Cosmo with her. He was a young, sly dog.
        While Martha sat on a bench outside the dealership, a car salesman came up to annoy her -- I think that is the job description. He was chatting her up and also trying to sell her some auto protection policy or something.
        As men looking for an opening will do, he asked, "Mind if I pet your dog?" and she replied, "Go ahead. I don't know how he'll react. He's never been around strange men."
        So the guy bends down and pets Cosmo as if he's merely a common animal. Then the man stands up, ignores Cosmo and keeps talking.
        Cosmo looked up at the salesman, sort of smiled, then stood quietly, lifted a short back leg and whizzed all over the saleman's pants leg and boot. 
        And that is one more reason Cosmo was the Greatest Dog Ever and always will enjoy a special place in our hearts.
        Poor Cosmo was way too old for any sort of major surgery years ago, so for the last few years, while enjoying his company, we nursed him along with pills and diet and no stress or struggle beyond what he wanted. We didn’t want lose him – the house doesn’t feel right without him. Heck, the planet doesn’t feel right without him.
        We do have a lingering suspicion however, that handsome, lovin'-the-ladies Cosmo had become a little anxious, fearing that he was about to be swept up in this Petraeus scandal with all the other ol’ dawgs.
        He’d have been smiling at that. And we're misting up in his absence.
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They all were once someone's dog

     Our theory is dogs don't get to be adult unless there's a human who is involved in their lives. So, these dogs must have, at some point, been someone's dog.
     These dogs were euthanized in Arlington in the month of September because nobody wanted them. There are 19 of them -- there were 37 dogs euthanized in the Arlington Shelter in August, according to Susan Tandukar, our source with the Partners of Arlington Animal Services.
     You'd think a city as big and thriving as Arlington would have been able to place 56 dogs over a 2-month period, wouldn't you?
     Just for perspective we’ll point out that the City of Dallas Animal Shelter & Adoption Center euthanized 1,460 animals in August and 1,828 in July. We don’t have the September figures yet. Whatever the figures for September, at the end of August, for the Dallas fiscal year the city euthanized 17,849 animals – dogs, cats, some wildlife, chickens, etc. Unwanted, each and every one. The must keep "The Lab" running from daylight to dark.
     The Arlington animals and the Dallas animals all have one thing in common: They were unwanted to death, 
     When you look at the collage from Arlington, consider how huge a collage from Dallas would be.
     A colleague of mine once declared, “You can’t save ‘em all.”
     I think you can – with teamwork, optimism and enlightenment.
     And while we wait for that combination to develop, is there really any good reason to line ‘em up and kill as many as you can?
     If you are inclined to pray. Don't pray for these animals -- they are already in the Hereafter. It's the humans left behind who need the prayers.
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