When I refer to the dogs of my childhood, I always mention Debbie and Zoe, mother and daughter poodles, but for some reason I have never mentioned Nicole. I have also rarely mentioned Glitter, the cat of my childhood, who had a terrble death. She was jet black, with a little white under her chin.

I want to acknowledge now all these animals that gave so much to our family and whom I loved dearly.


Daisy was the only dog of my adulthood. That is why I call myself Daisy's Mommy here. But, these other animals were my sisters in an unhappy home and am very grateful to them.


Daisy's Mommy

Pets are such a comfort, aren't they, no matter what the situation. They love us no matter what and always understand. Thanks for sharing your story.

When I got Rajah, I had been raised in a house where no pets were allowed because my Dad saw his dog, Junior, get shot by the policeman, after he got hit by a car. He still mourns for that dog and didn't want his girls to go through that same pain. There are days I wished I had listened to him because the pain of losing Rajah is unreal. It reminds me of the Garth Brooks song, The Dance.

Sure we could have missed the pain, but then we would have missed the dance ( the love and great times we've had with all our furbabies).

That is a great statement, because I know that I would never have wanted to miss the dance.

It is worth all the pain.

Daisy's Mommy,

Also, sister to Debbie, Zoe, Nicole and Glitter

I'm of two minds on this. If I had never known my kidlets, I wouldn't even know, and therefore not be mourning, what I had missed....so how painful would that have been by comparison? On the other hand, since I now DO know what I had, of COURSE I wouldn't have wanted to miss that.....but, isn't ignorance very often bliss? There have also been many times in my life when I truly, honestly wished I'd never even been born and therefore never have had to experience such consciousness.....and this is another one of those times. I may not have been the person I now am had I not known them, but I'd still be unaware of that today. So I can only hope that their presence and even this mourning, is STILL a better alternative to what might have been a different path.

I've only had 4 loving creatures in my life ~ my two budgies from childhood into tee*nhood, my female Kiki, and her 'successor', my male Kiki, both still near and dear to my heart, and then only Sabin and Nissa. I love them all, but my cats were even more influential on me than my birds, and of course lived much longer than my budgies, too. I wasn't a parent to my budgies, being so young, but a friend, playmate and more like a peer. But my feline babies were my babies, so hold a different type of place in my heart.....but they're ALL everlasting loves.

When I was 7 years old I got my first pet, a German Sheppard, I named Cuz. Don't know how I came up with that name. My mom asked me what his name was going to be and that was the first thing that popped out of my mouth. Easy for a 7 year old to pronounce I guess.

I lived in a bad neighborhood in the suburbs of Detroit. It was just me and my mom living together and she worked at a bar so I would be home alone very late alot of nights. I would bring Cuz in the house with me to keep me company and I felt alot safer when he was with me. So I learned, at an early age, how animals can be such great companions and friends.

I had a black cat along the way named Jimmy. He was with me for about 2 weeks but then ran away.

Just the other day I was thinking about my dog I briefly had as a boy. He was a brown bulldog mix named Butch. I was in about the fourth grade at the time. Butch was a very friendly dog. He jumped up on some other kids in the neighborhood just wanting to play and be friendly. I don't know if some parents complained or if my parents just freaked out, but they said Butch had to go. There was an old junkman who had a junkyard a couple of blocks away that said he'd take Butch. Not only did they make me give Butch away, they made me take him to the old junkman. I can still see him putting a rope around Butch's neck and leading him around back of his house. I remember Butch looking at me like he didn't understand. I remember crying all the way home. I know Butch has crossed over to the Bridge many years now. I just hope he recognizes me and knows it wasn't my doing. Butch I still love you boy and I'm so very sorry. I was never allowed another dog while I lived with my parents. It's good to be getting this out after nearly 40 years. I hope Butch doesn't hate me.

Butch could never hate you, neither you or Butch had a choice in that situation.But I am so sorry for you, it must be so hard for something like this at such a young age.
Bless you!
What a generation our parents were! 40 years ago, a neighbour complained that my
cat had thrown up and was foaming at the mouth--(rabies?). My parents immediately called a neighbouring policeman who came over and shot my cat. I came back from school (ninth grade)and he was gone , they never told me where they buried him. That cat was my soulmate, he lived for me and I lived for him. I still cry thinking of this, and the grief I am going through for the cats I lost this fall brings all this back up. I later read that if a frog is in a pet's water bowl and is frightened it will release a substance in the water. When the pet drinks that water the poisons will make him foam at the mouth. My parents were hard about any animals, I still feel for our workhorses too. When they were old, they sold them to a young guy who did sleighrides: he bred the female at 17 years old, and the male was so overworked he got inflammed muscles and was sent in pain to the abattoir.It hurt so much when they were sold , I watched them leave on foot for the new place, docile, following orders as the other two horses screamed in despair, they knew their buddies were going away forever. I hated people!I'm glad most people have evolved and have more respect for the special bonds that happen between humans and pets

Thanks Toonie, I hope you are right. When I was fifteen, I had a handsome orange and white longhair tomcat named Tom. Original, huh Tom was an avid hunter and very territorial. I used to watch him stalk birds and such and he made me think of a lion. I couldn't find him one morning nor when I came home from school. My cousin who was a neighbor also called to me and asked if I were looking for Tom. He had found him. He had been mauled to death by dogs. I took my loved one home in my arms. I set to work building a wooden casket to bury him in. The whole time I was working on it, crying the whole time, my parents yelled at me about all the noise I was making over "just a cat". I was brokenhearted and they were only worried about what the neighbors would think. I finished the casket and laid my Tom to rest in the backyard. I'm glad this has been brought out. These memories have been tucked away deep in my mind. They are mostly painful but needed out.

It was right to weep for and honor Tom with a casket -- I am sure the love in this made its way to Tom. Orange cats are my favorite- My childhood cat and the one I lost this november were orange cats. I'm glad your Tom was free during his life and hopefully his death was quick: no doubt he was on adrelanin all this fighting time and he didn't have time to suffer. He lived a real life- I've always felt so sorry for lone cats who lived in a 22nd floor apartment! I would let my cats out; they loved to stay out half the night. I risked that they would meet up with a similar fate but illness got them instead.