a loss in the family.......

"Thomas Littleton" wrote in message
news:ChlWd.59503$W16.21848@trndny07...
Sad duty today......Lady, Eskimo Dog extraordinaire, wonderful household
pal
and just a beautiful little dog, was put to sleep.

Real sorry to hear the news...I just saw her a month or so ago and she
looked great. A last good memory for me, hope it wasn't too bad for you
since then. In memory I know I'll always flinch a bit as I walk into your
living room expecting the inevitable pouncing that she always provided.

Cheers to a great dog...and I feel sorry for all of the various yard
creatures that made it to the hereafter before her. They are in for a rude
awakening...

Mike

that dog will thank you, when you meet it again.....

"Mike Makela" ten.tsacmoc@alekamm wrote in message
...

"Thomas Littleton" wrote in message
news:ChlWd.59503$W16.21848@trndny07...
Sad duty today......Lady, Eskimo Dog extraordinaire, wonderful household
pal
and just a beautiful little dog, was put to sleep.

Real sorry to hear the news...I just saw her a month or so ago and she
looked great. A last good memory for me, hope it wasn't too bad for you
since then. In memory I know I'll always flinch a bit as I walk into your
living room expecting the inevitable pouncing that she always provided.

Cheers to a great dog...and I feel sorry for all of the various yard
creatures that made it to the hereafter before her. They are in for a
rude
awakening...

Mike


when you saw her in January, she had the diabetes, but it was under control.
Shortly thereafter, the glaucoma worsened, the diabetes got progressively
worse as well. She was more fragile than she looked, in short. The various
backyard denizens better not get too comfy.....we are very soon to be
receiving a 5 month old Eskimo(a male) that is enroute from the Blue Ridge
mountains. He is a rescued dog(maltreated and restored to health), as were
Sid and Ralph prior to Lady.
on an on-topic note: Penn's the week of the 21st of April??
Tom

I am still grieving the loss of my companion of fourteen years. "Barney"
seemed to know my frame of mind almost immediately and react accordingly.
If I was feeling down, he worked to improve my mood. If I was feeling good,
he was immediately ready to play. He was smarter than most people in my
life and certainly more loyal. I could trust him to always do the right
thing...which is something I can't even say about myself. He quickly
learned that you don't stand directly behind someone who is fly fishing (it
only took one "catch and release" incident for him to learn) and he seemed
to enjoy sitting quietly and watching me fish. He became just as excited as
I did whenever I hooked a big fish and was there to congratulate me with
unbridled enthusiasm when I reached shore. While he loved to play in the
water, he seemed to instinctively know that he was to stay on the bank when
I was fly fishing. I can still feel him curled up against my leg in the den
as I would sit at the fly tying bench. I confided in him those things that
I was not comfortable telling anyone.....and in having to put my concerns
into coherent speech, I often found solutions to my own problems. He
expected little out of life or from me....and yet gave so much without
hesitation. When he developed inoperable cancer, I tried to do all the
things that I knew he liked me to do and I spent more time with him than I
usually did. The cancer spread quickly and his eyes dulled. He was in a
lot of pain and I had to put him down. The Vet, a friend of mine, came to
my house and I held Barney in my arms as he injected him with the liquid
that would end his remarkable life. She was wagging her tail as I held her
and it only stopped when her heart stopped. I buried her on our property
and put an appropriate plaque on the tree next to her gravesite. I was
tying some cutthroat flies in my den this morning in preparation for some
upcoming sea run cutthroat fishing on the Smith River (CA) and glanced up at
Barney's photo which hangs on my den wall. I could almost feel his warmth
against my leg. Do I have another dog yet? No, not yet...but I'm sure I
will. I just need the pain to subside a bit more. Perhaps this summer when
I start my trout fishing trips...

Barry


"Mark H. Bowen" wrote in message
...

"Thomas Littleton" wrote in message
news:ChlWd.59503$W16.21848@trndny07...
Sad duty today......Lady, Eskimo Dog extraordinaire, wonderful household
pal
and just a beautiful little dog, was put to sleep. As much as I always
have
been a "Dog Person", this part never gets easier. All my prior dogs have
been outdoorsy types, but Lady was picked out by the girls in the
family.....first dog I ever had that could be called dainty.
Nonetheless, she was a dead-loyal to her core family as any dog I have
known. It's a dreary day around these parts, flies to tie, things that
need
doing, don't feel like doing a damned thing. Somehow, posting to this
God-forsaken place seems as fitting as anything.........

Very sorry to hear of your family's loss Tom. It's never easy to let go
of a family member, especially the ones that give love unconditionally! I
wept like a baby, when I had Beau put down, and I don't know that I can go
thru that ever again. Of course, I doubt I could ever love another animal
as much as I loved that dog.

My thoughts are with you and yours!

Mark

"Barry" wrote in message
ink.net...
I am still grieving the loss of my companion of fourteen years. "Barney"
seemed to know my frame of mind almost immediately and react accordingly.
If I was feeling down, he worked to improve my mood. If I was feeling
good, he was immediately ready to play. He was smarter than most people in
my life and certainly more loyal. I could trust him to always do the right
thing...which is something I can't even say about myself. He quickly
learned that you don't stand directly behind someone who is fly fishing (it
only took one "catch and release" incident for him to learn) and he seemed
to enjoy sitting quietly and watching me fish. He became just as excited
as I did whenever I hooked a big fish and was there to congratulate me with
unbridled enthusiasm when I reached shore. While he loved to play in the
water, he seemed to instinctively know that he was to stay on the bank when
I was fly fishing. I can still feel him curled up against my leg in the
den as I would sit at the fly tying bench. I confided in him those things
that I was not comfortable telling anyone.....and in having to put my
concerns into coherent speech, I often found solutions to my own problems.
He expected little out of life or from me....and yet gave so much without
hesitation. When he developed inoperable cancer, I tried to do all the
things that I knew he liked me to do and I spent more time with him than I
usually did. The cancer spread quickly and his eyes dulled. He was in a
lot of pain and I had to put him down. The Vet, a friend of mine, came to
my house and I held Barney in my arms as he injected him with the liquid
that would end his remarkable life. She was wagging her tail as I held her
and it only stopped when her heart stopped. I buried her on our property
and put an appropriate plaque on the tree next to her gravesite. I was
tying some cutthroat flies in my den this morning in preparation for some
upcoming sea run cutthroat fishing on the Smith River (CA) and glanced up
at Barney's photo which hangs on my den wall. I could almost feel his
warmth against my leg. Do I have another dog yet? No, not yet...but I'm
sure I will. I just need the pain to subside a bit more. Perhaps this
summer when I start my trout fishing trips...

Barry

One is loathe to intrude on touching memoirs dedicated to dear departed
friends or family with an untoward reference to reality,
but.......um.......do you know what gender your dog was?

Wolfgang
who, though no canid, cannot help but be impinged upon occasionally by an
unusual aroma.

Wolfgang wrote:
"Barry" wrote...
I am still grieving the loss of my companion of fourteen years.
"Barney" seemed to know my frame of mind almost immediately and
react accordingly. If I was feeling down, he worked to improve my
mood. If I was feeling good, he was immediately ready to play. He
was smarter than most people in my life and certainly more loyal. I
could trust him to always do the right thing...which is something I
can't even say about myself. He quickly learned that you don't
stand directly behind someone who is fly fishing (it only took one
"catch and release" incident for him to learn) and he seemed to
enjoy sitting quietly and watching me fish. He became just as
excited as I did whenever I hooked a big fish and was there to
congratulate me with unbridled enthusiasm when I reached shore.
While he loved to play in the water, he seemed to instinctively know
that he was to stay on the bank when I was fly fishing. I can still
feel him curled up against my leg in the den as I would sit at the
fly tying bench. I confided in him those things that I was not
comfortable telling anyone.....and in having to put my concerns into
coherent speech, I often found solutions to my own problems. He
expected little out of life or from me....and yet gave so much
without hesitation. When he developed inoperable cancer, I tried to
do all the things that I knew he liked me to do and I spent more
time with him than I usually did. The cancer spread quickly and his
eyes dulled. He was in a lot of pain and I had to put him down.
The Vet, a friend of mine, came to my house and I held Barney in my
arms as he injected him with the liquid that would end his
remarkable life. She was wagging her tail as I held her and it only
stopped when her heart stopped. I buried her on our property and
put an appropriate plaque on the tree next to her gravesite. I was
tying some cutthroat flies in my den this morning in preparation for
some upcoming sea run cutthroat fishing on the Smith River (CA) and
glanced up at Barney's photo which hangs on my den wall. I could
almost feel his warmth against my leg. Do I have another dog yet?
No, not yet...but I'm sure I will. I just need the pain to subside
a bit more. Perhaps this summer when I start my trout fishing
trips...

Barry

One is loathe to intrude on touching memoirs dedicated to dear
departed friends or family with an untoward reference to reality,
but.......um.......do you know what gender your dog was?

It's quite possible that Barry merely omitted some content:
"The Vet, a friend of mine, came to my house and I held Barney in my
arms as he injected him with the liquid that would end his remarkable
life. [Before the final moments, my friend was able to complete the sex
change operation Barney, now Babs, had always hoped for but could not
afford.] She was wagging her tail as I held her and it only stopped when
her heart stopped."
--
HTH,
Tim
------------------------
http://css.sbcma.com/timj

On Fri, 1 Apr 2005 10:41:15 -0500, "Tim J."
wrote:

Wolfgang wrote:
"Barry" wrote...
I am still grieving the loss of my companion of fourteen years.
"Barney" seemed to know my frame of mind almost immediately and
react accordingly. If I was feeling down, he worked to improve my
mood. If I was feeling good, he was immediately ready to play. He
was smarter than most people in my life and certainly more loyal. I
could trust him to always do the right thing...which is something I
can't even say about myself. He quickly learned that you don't
stand directly behind someone who is fly fishing (it only took one
"catch and release" incident for him to learn) and he seemed to
enjoy sitting quietly and watching me fish. He became just as
excited as I did whenever I hooked a big fish and was there to
congratulate me with unbridled enthusiasm when I reached shore.
While he loved to play in the water, he seemed to instinctively know
that he was to stay on the bank when I was fly fishing. I can still
feel him curled up against my leg in the den as I would sit at the
fly tying bench. I confided in him those things that I was not
comfortable telling anyone.....and in having to put my concerns into
coherent speech, I often found solutions to my own problems. He
expected little out of life or from me....and yet gave so much
without hesitation. When he developed inoperable cancer, I tried to
do all the things that I knew he liked me to do and I spent more
time with him than I usually did. The cancer spread quickly and his
eyes dulled. He was in a lot of pain and I had to put him down.
The Vet, a friend of mine, came to my house and I held Barney in my
arms as he injected him with the liquid that would end his
remarkable life. She was wagging her tail as I held her and it only
stopped when her heart stopped. I buried her on our property and
put an appropriate plaque on the tree next to her gravesite. I was
tying some cutthroat flies in my den this morning in preparation for
some upcoming sea run cutthroat fishing on the Smith River (CA) and
glanced up at Barney's photo which hangs on my den wall. I could
almost feel his warmth against my leg. Do I have another dog yet?
No, not yet...but I'm sure I will. I just need the pain to subside
a bit more. Perhaps this summer when I start my trout fishing
trips...

Barry

One is loathe to intrude on touching memoirs dedicated to dear
departed friends or family with an untoward reference to reality,
but.......um.......do you know what gender your dog was?

It's quite possible that Barry merely omitted some content:
"The Vet, a friend of mine, came to my house and I held Barney in my
arms as he injected him with the liquid that would end his remarkable
life. [Before the final moments, my friend was able to complete the sex
change operation Barney, now Babs, had always hoped for but could not
afford.] She was wagging her tail as I held her and it only stopped when
her heart stopped."

That sounds like the beginnings of a plot to some "Thelma and
Louise"-meets-"Dog Day Afternoon"-meets-"A Boy and His Dog"
flick...paging Misters Corman and Wood, Misters Corman and Wood, you
have a call on line 9 from outer space...maybe Don Johnson could play
Barney and Dustin Hoffman could play Babs, with David Bowie starring as
Barry...

HT...no, it probably won't,
R