This is what I wrote about the passing of our Lab, Misty. My wife thinks I should write something similar about Tigger, but it's just too early.

REMEMBERING MISTY

How do you describe what it means to lose a friend, one you've seen almost every day for the past twelve years? I don't know how to do that. But I do want to write down some recollections of the good times we had together. Maybe years from now, when memory has faded just a bit, I'll find this and, reading through it, smile and remember Misty. For now, it's painful, the loss so close. I miss my dog.

I pass by the kitchen window with a glance to the back yard and just for a second I see movement. I turn to look for her even as the fact jolts in my mind: she can't be there, not there, not in the house. Her bed is empty. When I take our little dog, Chelsea, out for our early morning walk, it's just the two of us. Misty loved to go on our walks.

Misty became part of our family May 20, 1991. She was two months old, a yellow lab puppy. The first time we took her into the back yard, the look on her face when she felt the grass on her paws was priceless. She wasn't sure about that. She looked up at me, asking if it was OK. I patted her head and she licked my face. Puppy kisses. A little while later, she was rolling over and over in the grass. She was a puppy in every sense of the word and that never changed throughout her life. A little bit wild, in a good way, and so much energy.

Two years later, I took her to dog obedience school to try and tame some of that puppy in her. It didn't. For six weeks, I took her every Wednesday to school, and almost every day to the park for "homework". The school had about 12 other people and dogs, almost all of whom (the dogs) did better than Misty. She never took training too seriously, and would much rather just play. I still have her Certificate of Accomplishment.

She was my running buddy. She was always so excited to go, she'd turn around and around in circles, jumping and turning, and that was just getting her leash on. We'd go running through the neighborhood, having all sorts of adventures. We encountered quail, rabbits, other dogs, even coyotes. When we'd pass by people, they would often remark about what a beautiful dog she was. They were right, of course.

I remember how she would get that wild look in her eyes just before she'd take off running all over the yard as fast as she could. How she got down on her front legs, her head just over the top of the ground, back legs up and tail wagging, ready to go. How much she loved to get in the swimming pool in the summer time, followed by shaking the water off and rolling, feet up, in the grass. She enjoyed that part so much, sometimes she would fall asleep like that, feet up in the air. I remember watching her chase anything and everything that moved in our back yard. I remember how patiently she waited for me, lying down with her two front legs politely crossed.

And I remember her eyes, golden brown, so expressive. When I looked into those eyes, I had a pretty good idea what was going on with her. Mostly, she was happy.

It's been just over a week now that we lost her. It was Becki's birthday, of all days. I have never had a depression like the one I have just experienced. For some reason her passing has hit us very hard. When I took her out for our morning walk that day, she was actually doing better than she had in some time. I was so shocked when I came home and found her, dazed, in the back yard. The experience at Pantano Animal Clinic was painful, and yet there were blessings too. A kindly older lady in the waiting room who, seeing our concern, said she would pray for our dog. Our veterinarian, Dr. Lent, did everything he could, went through what was going on and what our options were. We were there for over two hours, but he and the staff were so considerate and understanding. Later that week we received sympathy cards from friends, from Dr. Lent, and from the clinic. Amazing, and touching.

We stayed with her to the end. We held her close, told her she was our girl and that we loved her. I looked into her eyes and I knew what was going on. She was telling me, "It's OK, don't worry, it's OK."

Misty slipped from our hands into the hands of God on a Tuesday, June 10, 2003, at 7:27 P.M. A good friend has gone, but we will remember her.

Thanks so much for this. What you have written here about Misty and Tigger, and what so many others have written says a lot about the kind of people we are, deep down. Sometimes knowing how much empathy others have, and how they have been able to handle the terrible pain of loss, might in some way make the world a better place - despite it being diminished by the passing of these irreplaceable loved ones.

Very sorry, 20. The privilage of having companions like cats or dogs is that they make us better people through their friendship. One great way to honor Tigger is to adopt another friend from the shelter. It is a tribute to him and can help to ease the pain of loss too.

We got a sympathy card from the vets yesterday. Really nice of them.

I just can't get another pet right now. Still a little in a funk. Rhianna, our remaining cat, has changed quite a bit. She stays around me quite a lot, sleeps on my bed at night, is much more affectionate. She was usually stand offish and not really accepting of being petted, etc. I guess she knows something happened.

I am sorry for your loss 20mm.

We lost our last Irish Setter Liam in May of 2008 and I still can't talk about it without crying. He was my best friend.

We rescued a husky from a husky rescue in Dallas three months ago and it took some of the pain away, knowing we had rescued a dog from the needle. You might want to think about rescuing a cat. Don't worry, there are plenty. I promise it will make you feel better.

Sorry to hear about your cat 20mm. I know the feeling. My cat passed away about 1 year ago. She was 20. She was deaf and had trouble seeing more than 3 ft in front of her but she still kept going. One day I saw her coming down the hall with a big limp in her hind legs. I said no way is she going to suffer. About 7 years ago I had to have her operated as she had a furball blocking her stomach. I thought that was the end but she was ok. She had a great long life. I haven't been able to or want to get another cat since.

Troll: You'll be happy, she was your nationality. ;-)

I finally got around to reading the vet's card and it was very touching. But there was something else in the bubble wrapped envelope and it was in bubble wrap as well. In the shape of a heart it first looked like a cookie. But it wasn't. It was a cast of a cat's paw print. My cat's paw print. They inscribed it "Tigger" and I broke up crying all over again.

Wow, that's really great of your vet. You don't find that kind of personal service anywhere these days.

I had missed this post originally I guess. I'm really sorry for your loss.

The vet did that after we put down our dog.
We took her to the same vet her whole life and it was just as hard for them it seemed.
I got a paw print from them a few days later. I was definitely not prepared for it.

I understand your reasoning for not wanting another pet so soon 20mm.
I was adamant about not want to get another dog after having to put down Sheba but roughly a month later fate intervened.
While I was out walking my other dog (Rex) I found a stray, no collar or tags, and after a trip to the pound a couple of days later we found that she didn't have a chip either. (I had to wait because of the Thanksgiving holiday.)
She has been with us ever since and even though I still miss Sheba I find that taking care of her has helped quite a bit.


Wheels

Sorry to hear you've lost Tigger 20MM. The cast of his paw is the nicest thing I think I've ever heard of a vet doing. Hope you're feeling better over the coming days.