So long Rover, good bye Spot,
Farewell Polly... thanks a lot.
Cats or goldfish... it's all the same,
They're pets, by crikey... not wild game.
Creepy-crawly, furry ball,
They're pets, by crikey
... we miss 'em all.
Researchers may add tributes to their own late lamented furry, scaly, or feathered friends by posting in a forum below.
Heather and Bentley were my travelling companions; and they loved to ride in the car, often offering to help me drive.
It has been a year since my last Cavalier King Charles Spaniel moved on to her final reward. Her name was Heather, a tricolor of rotund proportions during her later years. She was also stone deaf during her last two years. She was typical of her breed, affectionate but demanding all attention that was available. Never leave an idle hand drooped near her or she would slide her muzzle under it and induce you to pet her.
Bentley was my first Cavalier, a male Blenheim who passed away two years earlier after fighting a losing battle with heart disease. He developed heart problems while we were on a six week trip to Australia. When we picked him up at the animal hospital, the vet's advice was 'Don't stock up on dog food'. He was given six months to live. With care (and a lot of expensive veterinary treatment) he made it almost three more years in relative comfort. PANAMA
Our dear old cat, Promise, passed away quietly in her sleep on December 20, 2000 at the age of 18 years. Promise was born in Estevan, Saskatchewan in the fall of 1982, and was found abandoned in a back alley by the local children on November 28 of that year. As it was the first Sunday in Advent when she arrived at our home, we named her for that day's Advent candle - Promise. She was a white short-hair with beige spots and tail. Over all these years Prommie has been a well-behaved, polite cat, a good friend and faithful companion. She survived life with a growing boy, several years with the dog, Babe, who was her buddy, and two moves, to North Portal, Sask. then to Selkirk, Manitoba. Most recently, she lead a quiet life of an indoor cat, only venturing out to the garden on warm days. We will always cherish our memories and many pictures of our beloved pet. We miss you Puss-Cat, and we'll always love you. Barney's Bucksaws
Spooky-Cat, beloved buddy to our son Harley, passed away on Wednesday 2 August, 2000 after a very brief illness, at the age of 2 years. Spooky shared a city apartment and his entire little life with his friend, Harley. We will sadly miss his endearing ways, of strutting around the apartment so confidently, 'til someone made a noise, and he'd spook and run for cover, hence his name. We won't forget his habit of rolling on his back and playing 'cute kitty', of trying to chase birds through the window, of climbing on the fridge, opening the cupboard door and dragging his catnip out. He was the most beautiful black cat, small and stocky, with big round eyes. Harley will miss his calls through the door when he rattled his keys on the way in. Mom and Dad will miss his weekend vacations in the country, trying to cope with the lawn and bugs. Interment occurred August 2, after a brief ceremony on the river bank outside the apartment building where he lived, under the trees he loved to watch from his window sill perch. Rest well, Dear Little Guy. Know you were always loved, and will be sorely missed, and remembered always. Mom. Barney's Bucksaws
My Shadow. I got Her when I was 11 as a gift from my Dad. She was a mutt (a little of everything in Her). All black with the best temperment, she would follow me to school everyday to make sure I got there o.k. and would meet me outside to walk home together after. Shadow would welcome anyone into our home as long as you patted her first. She would let me hold her puppies and help her clean them right after she had them. She was five years old when she was hit by a car and had be put to sleep, her injuries were too severe, but my little Shadow will always be my baby. courtney Patron Saint of Social Embarassment
My dog Rusty. I was four years old when my mum and dad bought a springer spaniel. He was supposed to be a rusty brown colour, but turned out to be dark brown... but the name 'Rusty' stuck. Couldn't have called him 'Dark brown' could we, I suppose? One of the most loveable animals ever to walk the planet - although I'm sure that most pet owners feel that way. Also one of the dimmest, however. I'll never forget the time we were all sat around one Sunday afternoon, and he walked past with his little tail on fire... He used to try to catch snowballs in the winter, and always looked surprised when they disappeared... When we went on a barge holiday, when I was 7, he sunburnt his nose; and it was never the same again... when my dad tried to open a lock, he tried to jump up to him, but the barge was too low, and he hit the side of the canal wall instead.... we grew up together. Whenever I was sad or lonely (I'm an only child) he was there for me, and always knew when to simply be there. *SNIFF* Actually, this has brought it home to me that I miss him more than I thought I did. He died when I was 16, and I think that if ever an animal had a true buddhist nature, it was him. I'll have a drink for him tonight I think.... Pea
To Boris, the college cat, who died of a stroke. We all loved him, the way he sat around reception, or under the radiator, or prowled around the grounds looking suspicious, and the way he loved to be stroked, and picked up, and the way he tolerated us all... He had his list of students that he liked, and that he knew would open doors for him etc... so that if one of them was in reception, he'd walk up to them, meow, and look in the direction that action was to be taken very pointedly. He started his life living on Claypath, but his original owner moved, and he adopted college; and college isn't the same without him. He was deaf, but he didn't seem to be harmed in any way by that, he always seemed to be a lovely, happy cat, who knew he was the best in the world. Joanna (P of D) ACE
Katie was a very special cat to me. At sixteen years old, she was three years older than me. My parents had her since she was a very small kitten, and have just celebrated their second ever wedding anniversary without her - the first being before they got her. Most children's first words are 'mama' or 'dada', but mine was 'Katie'. She got me walking. She comforted me when I was stressed. She used to drink milk off my finger. She had been suffering from kidney disease for some time, and probably suffered a stroke in early April, causing all her legs to seize up. She didn't want to live without her freedom and dignity, and was in a lot of pain and refusing to eat; so we took the decision to have her put down. She didn't resist. She died at about 6:30 pm on April the 12th, 2000. She is now buried in our back garden. Katie, rest in peace. ZB (Zoë), etc... Ý
My cat Griffey was sold to another good owner, and the owner told me that he had died. Oh Griffey, I miss you so much!!! Prosthenic Vogon Jeltz
Over this last summer my puppy passed away. Carlos, at five years old and weighing over 200 pounds, was probably the worlds biggest and oldest puppy; but his sweetness, cuteness, and low intelligence made him a fifth member of the family. Sure, we called him 'fat boy' on occasion; but through his youth he struggled with Valley Fever and was severly underweight... And who can help but love a 200 pound animal, who didn't realize that he could have simply *pushed* a half open door further ajar? We had often asked the vet whether Carlos' pecan eating habit was good for him: he'd crunch the shell and nut between his massive jaws. The vet said probably not, but that there was really nothing we could do about it. After surviving Valley Fever for years (not to mention a persistent recurring ear infection), we were distressed one day when 'Chuck' stopped eating altogether. One morning, he was reluctant even to move. We practically had to carry him to the car. We drove him to the vet, which had opened early to let Carlos in (the staff had grown attached to him, too). It turned out that he had swallowed a pecan whole; and, though they were able to locate it and remove it, it had caused serious damage to his intestine. While the doctors were attempting to undo the damage, Carlos' heart failed under anesthesia. Carlos never met a person he didn't love, and rarely met one who refused to return the affection. Little children and elderly people fawned over him. He offered a sense of security when walking across the back yard at night - even the friendliest dog is scary when he weighs 200 pounds and is running at you out of the dark. Even his distinctive odor will be missed. Irving Washington
Watson was a standard poodle, the biggest, blackest, best dog that ever lived. He laughed, he smiled, he comforted. He put up with late walkings, late feedings, and being taken for granted far too much of the time. He loved talking and cuddling and walking and playing. He knew how to play tag and how to pick your coat pockets for gum while you were still in them. He knew when I was sick and wouldn't let anyone into my room or near my bed. He knew that the couch was a mysterious place that only supported doggy life during the day while everyone was at work or school, and knew that he had to listen to mom, but he could just laugh at Krissy if she tried to make him do anything. He remained happy until the day he died of cancer. He smiled right through disaster after disaster, like eating all my athsma medication at once... and severe hip displaysia... and was the only person in my life that loved me truely unconditionally. He's been gone 5 years, and I still turn corners and expect to see him. He was the only friend to a very lonely divorced little girl. I'm never sure if I'm going to heaven or not, but I know for a fact that if there is any kind of God or any kind of cosmic reward, Watson is rolling around on hillsides, sniffing cat's butts, and eating block after block of sharp cheddar cheese. Krissy Lee
I miss and love all the departed ones and frequently think of them still; but Kim, my black & white, cross border collie/standard poodle - pollyoodle as I used to say when people asked what breed she was; as people normally thought she was a bearded collie - is the one that I miss the most, I think. Kim was a friend to everyone and any other pets who lived with us. She shared her life with me for seventeen and a half years, without a day of illness until she finally had a stroke. I had to make the awful decision to help her die and it didn't help matters having a vet who messed everything up and turned it into the worst experience of my life. Kim was with me through my first pregnancy, divorce, re-marriage, second pregnancy, moving house & emigrating. My second child turned out to be autistic and Kim was wonderful with him. I'm sure that having her and the other animals around the house has helped him learn to communicate with others. The worst time ever was when Kim had to go through six month's quarantine for which I'll always feel guilty and as a result, promise never to put another animal through such a nightmare experience. Having other wonderful dogs has eased the pain of Kim's death, but I'll never forget her and will always celebrate her life with me by happy memories of her. Gwennie
My hamster Holly, who survived for two years with two cats forever stalking her, sadly succumbed to a surfeit of carpet pile after escaping, yet again, from her exercise ball! ShazzPRME:-)
Bucky, the fast-as-a-blink, button-biting prairie dog would rather have lived on the prairie. Now she has gone to the great prairie dog town in the sky. So long Bucky. I wish living at our house had been more fun for you.
So long, and thanks to all my fish... Thanks and bon voyage to all of you, in big tanks or little ones, who had to put up with sloppy housekeeping, fickle thermometers, and poisonous tap water.
Ricky was a poodle who loved life like no other. He flew around 'druid stones' and bounced through meadows, his ears flapping like the wings of Mercury, his message: Joi de vivre. He lived life fast and hard... and longer than we gave him credit for.