Vinny Klaiber - October 2011, 16 years, 2 months old
My darling Vinny, no words could ever express my love for you. I hope all the years we have spent together brought you as much joy and unconditional love as you have shown me. I will carry you in my heart, along with your brothers, until I close my eyes for the last time. I know we will meet again, wait for me, I promise I will meet you at the Bridge. I love you Vinny, always and forever. Mom xoxoxo
Radar O'Reilly - October, 2011, 15 years old
I met you, first, at your breeder's home, in February of 1996. I didn't like you, and you didn't like me. My wife and I took the only other male pup from your litter home with us that month.
In March of 1996, your first family didn't want you any more - by that point, I needed you, and you needed me.
You became 'My Little Boy', and I coaxed you through the 'bullying' of your brother.Then you remembered who you were, and became 'My Little Dog', because you were the 'runt' that dominated your brother, the largest pup in the litter.
Yet, you were a 'flirt'. You charmed almost everyone that entered our house, by your endearing ways.
I was proudest of you, however, when you stood up to ANYONE who came into the house that I had not invited. You didn't care who they were, or how big they were. You were not going to let them pass. And they didn't. Do you remember the 6-foot 2-inch, 190 pound air conditioner repairman that you pinned against our front door? Or his screams of 'GET HIM OFF ME!' just because he came in before I said so.
By that point, I had referred to you as a 'Rotten Little Turd' so often that, when I picked you up, and whispered that phrase in your ear, your tail almost shook itself off.
And for 15 years, you were 'My Little Pup/Dog/'Old Man'/'Grumpy Old Man'.
I didn't think it was possible for a 12-pound miniature dachsund to tackle a man of 6-feet 2-inches, and 180 pounds, but that is what you did, when I came home from Iraq. That is, STILL, my favourite part of my 'homecoming'.
Our home is not 'right' without you, and I miss you, every day.
Miss Mollie Sue with the pretty red doo
- October 2011, 11 years years, 5 days old
Miss Mollie Sue was abused as a baby and I adopted her in March 2001 when she was five months old. She actually chose my sister and me along with her name. Love and Protect Pets (LAPPs) named her 'Peaches', and when called she actually snubbed her tiny brown nose at you; she wouldn't even look at you. After many tries we said 'Miss Mollie' and she responded immediately. Therefore, not only did she choose us to be her parents but she also chose her name. We had an incredible 11 years with her. She was sweet, loving, loved to snuggle (on her time), and very motivated by food. If she didn't eat I knew to rush her to the doctor which is what happened right before she died. On her birthday, 22 October 2011, she wouldn't eat so I rushed her to the only doctor in town that was available. He took one look at her and knew what was wrong - IMHA. This is a very nasty disease where the immune system destroys red blood cells. The following Thursday, 27 October 2011, a blood clot came loose and she had a cerebral hemorrhage and died instantly. It has been so difficult for my sister, me, and Dexter (my little blue-dapple dachshund). There are days when my tears just won't stop flowing and my heart aches. During the summer of 2011, during a routine visit to her doctor, her doctor mentioned she was a little anemic but it was 'nothing to worry about'! Since her diagnoses prior to death I have learned that that was the first sign of the disease. Would she have had the same outcome? Possibly. I try not to blame the doctor or myself for not asking for more tests but some days its difficult not to. Some days I just want to stomp and scream and demand she be brought back but I know that can never happen. So now I am pouring everything I have into Dexter since he, too, is missing Miss Mollie Sue.
Our Max, brother of our beloved Pocket who passed in 1999, left us, too, in 2011. He was a stray we took in to be with Pocket. Two peas in a pod they were and he missed her terribly when she left us. He was our Houdini Wennie . . . always getting out of any fence . . . any door but he'd be found at Taco Bell where they gave him tacos, or in the slammer. He was our love and a good boy. RIP my Max.
Pretzel - 'Mr P' - October 2011, 15 years, 6 months old
You came into my life as a small pup only as big as my hand. You were my first dachshund. You taught me a great deal about life and just how important the simple things in life were. You knew how to give hugs and kisses. You played soccer with your basketball. You were always the eternal optomist. You knew that good things came home in bags and pockets. I will always hold a place for you in my heart. I miss you every day. You were my 'Bestest Buddy in the Whole Wide World'. You tried so hard in your last days to hold on but your worldly body just wouldn't let you. I know you're with Spanky playing at the Rainbow Bridge" I miss you, 'P'. Your Mommy and I love you.
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