Giving up a friend

Her hands stroked my head and back as they had done so many times in the past 21 years since we had been together. Then she gently picked me up and said "Old friend, I am only doing this because I love you so much". I knew then what was to be my fate and I gratefully snuggled into her arms. She started the car and was crying the whole time.

I thought about the first time that I saw her. One of her friends had picked me up from the kennel. I was the last to be sold from this litter as I was the runt and also had a very bad underbite. This was a disadvantage as most people who bought Schnauzers wanted them for breeding and this might show up in any litter I fathered. The man who took me only took me because he could not find another dog and wanted one of my breed. When he took me home and showed me to her, she picked me up and said, "You are the cutest little dog I have ever seen". From then on it was total love between the two of us.

In a couple of weeks the man gave me to her as he found he was really too ill to take care of a puppy. So I went home with her. She played with me and petted me and spoiled me. All I had to give in return was my love and she accepted this and gave me her love. She renamed me "Happy" because she said that suited me better because I always looked like I was smiling.

I remember chasing a red ball down a long hallway and bringing it back to her. She would try to take it from me and I would tease her and not give it to her. We played like this every day. I learned to sing "Yankee Doodle" with her and we disturbed the neighborhood with our singing, as my voice was quite loud for a small dog.

After a few years, she and her husband moved and couldn't keep me any longer so she found a good home for me with an elderly man. After two years with him he died. She again came to my rescue. The people in charge of the estate wanted to have me put to sleep, as I had become an old dog of 14 by then. But she said she wanted me back and they made arrangements to take me.

Getting back to her was the happiest day of my life. I could no longer run and play like I did when I was young, but she loved me anyway. She would take me in the car with her a lot of the time and I loved that.

Then I started to weaken and hurt all the time. The doctor told her there was nothing he could do for me. She couldn't seem to bear to part with me for several weeks. Then this morning she came to a decision.

We reached our destination and when they took me from her arms I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and how much I knew she loved me to make the decision to put an end to my suffering. As she turned to go, she reached back one more time and stroked my head and with my eyes I said "Thank you".

Yella's story

Sweet Dreams

About two years ago I was going to my car to run some errands when a large yellow cat literally fell at my feet from hunger. I got in the car and started out, then thought better of it and stopped and came back to him. He had a bad injury and was bleeding. There was an abscess on his rear. I fed him what he would eat and took him to the vet. He stayed there 3 days and healed and I had him neutered and brought him back and put him on my screened back porch. I could tell he was an old cat and had been scarred many times in battles.

I already had Tommy Tucker, who I had adopted from the animal shelter several months before. It took them a long time to become friends. Finally, Tommy stopped growling so I brought Yella in the house to live as a family member along with Tommy. At first, he ate more than any cat I have ever seen--I think it was the first time in his life he had an unlimited amount of food and clean water. With a lot of care and brushing he became a beautiful 15 pound bundle of love.

Although he was larger than Tommy, he always was the submissive one and would never fight back. The two would play together but if a fight started, Yella wouldn't fight back. And although Yella was an old cat, he played like a kitten with Tommy and with me.

He would stretch out on the carpet and get on his back totally relaxed and sleep. I used to get a laugh out of the position he would get in. I called him my big clown. He didn't just sit down like most cats, he would plop down. And he was hard headed. No matter how many times he was told not to do something he would do it anyway. And he was smart. I could tell him to go find Tommy and he would search the house for him. I was the only person he would ever sit on. If anyone else picked him up he would immediately get down with an indignant look at them.

Yesterday, on July 4, 2009, I left the house for a short time and he was fine and playing. When I returned about an hour later, he was vomiting and had gotten a large hair ball up. I went to another part of the house and was coming back to give him some hair ball medicine..he was stretched out in the floor screaming and dying. We got him in the carrier to take him to the vet and he died enroute.

I feel he received and gave more love in these two short years I had him than at any other part of his life.

My big yellow clown is gone and will be sadly missed. May he RIP