Timmy & Sammy

We were not seriously looking for a dog when, in February 2007, we were told of one being fostered for Rawhide Rescue that we might like – a 9 year old YorkiePoo in need of a home, by the name of Tricksie.  Her family had outgrown their interest in having a pet and she had been surrendered.  We wondered whether we would like an older dog, especially one who had lost weight and looked like a “sad sack” when she came to our home.  But she needed us and we soon found out how lucky we were.

 

Tricksie quickly got her appetite and spirit back and was the best dog that we could imagine.  We loved walking her and enjoying each others company, including having her join us in bed (as shown in the picture) and sleeping on her down pillow.  She was there for us when we suffered some tragic family losses.  When she could no longer safely jump, we got her stairs for her to scamper up into bed.  We couldn’t resist the occasional table scraps – a “no-no” – but which also meant that she joined us at mealtime.  When we returned from being out she would race around the house with joy at seeing us and yowl with happiness.  Tricksie was a cherished friend that we were blessed to have for over 8 years.  May she rest in peace and one day be waiting for us at Rainbow Bridge.

Emma was a puppy mill breeder that Ingela took under her wing about eight years ago.  Ingela asked me to foster Emma and I refused — Emma barely moved, just drooled with no expression on her face and no life in her eyes.  I never saw a dog I wanted to foster less.

But, being Ingela, she finally convinced me to take Emma.  I took her into my home where she continued to drool, refused to walk, play or even look me in the eye,  No one ever inquired about adopting Emma.

But, after a few months, Emma began to come out of her shell.  The spark that only Ingela could see emerged over a period of years.  After seven years of love and joy, Emma slipped away from me, in my arms, at home, of her own volition (as she did everything).

I will always love and remember both Ingela and Emma, the love of my life.  – Karen.

Woody, who was known to you as Buddy, a yellow lab mixed with, maybe, Vizsla , Weimaraner, and/or Ridgeback, and a big dose of crazy as well.

We adopted him sometime in early 2002, and we figured he was about a year old at the time. He died on Saturday. He was his goofy self at 10:30 a.m. and gone at 11 a.m. He just sort of lay down and died, with no noise or anything. A nice way to go for him, pretty tough on us. The vet speculated a heart arrhythmia or an undiagnosed tumor that burst.

We managed to get him through puppy school. He flunked the first time, but when he went back, he was way ahead of everybody else and took great pride in showing all the new kids what was expected. He was very good at sitting and staying, and he usually came when you called, but sometimes he would just run off. The longest he was gone was about 75 minutes, and we were on tenterhooks.

Woody was one of the sweetest dogs that ever lived. We decided that he would have been better off if he knew how strong he was and that he could bite if he had to. But he was always anxious, and for the first couple of years he would quake in fear frequently. Apparently, you rescued him from the Staten Island pound, where he was one day from euthanasia because, even though he was very beautiful, he just cowered in the back of his cage and shook and drooled. But when we ran into him at the adoption day at the pet shop on the Summerville Circle, he had figured out how to attract the crowd. Everybody seemed to want Woody, and Kathy was worried you would give him to this guy who kept going around telling everybody he was a physician. As Woody aged, he became more comfortable in his skin. We decided his previous family was probably very caring toward him but just couldn’t put up with his anxiety in that urban environment. He was happier out here in the country. Woody loved to go in the car. He was crazy to go in the car. He learned that “ready” often meant we were getting ready to go out, and whenever he heard that word, as he did Saturday morning, he would jump up and frequently start whining, even if we were only talking about getting ready to watch a TV show.

We miss him a lot. We’ll bury his ashes out in the special place in the garden with Jake the Dog and Abby the Cat, both of whom died years ago.

Stephanie was found as a stray four years ago.  She was a lovely lady who never showed her age. Sadly she developed health issues and crossed over the Rainbow Bridge on Thursday.  I’m sure her last years were the best any dog could dream about.  Thank you Jane for loving her so much and caring so well for her.