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Aug 6, 2008

I had to put my 17 (maybe 18? we got him at a shelter, we don't know) year-old cat Fitz down a couple days ago. I couldn't be there when it happned because of The Rona, but the vet was as sweet and compassionate as could be. Big ups to Dr. Q, if anyone's in SW VA.

He was a big ol' chonk, and my nickname for him was Tubby. And, well, this video kinda happened 6 years ago when I found a record called "Tubby the Tuba" and Fitz decided to display his mad DJ skillz..

Anyways, that's his theme song. While most of the video is pics of him, during the breakdown you get to see the other pets I need to pay tribute to.


Jul 23, 2004

Hi guys, I just want to officially memorialize my mother's cat Lola, who I did live with for nearly 7 years when I was still a teenager, which is no small amount of time! I mean, I'm 34 now, so it seems like a very long time ago - and I suppose it was. Lola was a very long-lived cat - she was 23 years old (very nearly 24 actually and closer to that age!) when she passed away a couple weeks ago, which definitely made her the oldest cat that I ever knew or encountered at all. I moved out west this past December, and the last time I saw Lola she was still looking exactly the same as she'd always looked - the same as she looks in that pic down there. Her fur might have felt a bit more brittle than it did a few years back, and she didn't seem nearly as prone to darting around for no reason at all, something she did for a very a long time. But she was still the same old Lola, just as affectionate-yet-aloof as ever.

I've talked about Lola a bit before on here. She was a feral kitten with a broken leg when my mom found her, left behind by her mom and siblings and fairly close to dying. After a vet visit, my mom nursed her back to health over a period of several months, and was very dedicated about it; I was an idiotic ~11-year-old at the time and was probably much more concerned with avoiding doing my homework and thinking about the possibility of looking at pornography. I remember actually feeling vaguely annoyed at the time, just because it took up a lot of my mom's attention that might otherwise be spent on me, but again, I was 11 and did not understand at all. Lola was very much bonded to my mother after that, and was very skittish with just about everyone else - including me. I wasn't too happy about this either, because when Lola was finally a bit more like a house-cat and less like a feral cat, she still only liked my mother and would hiss at me and scratch when I tried to approach her. It was not a great fit, but Lola learned and got nicer, largely from the influence of an older black kitty named Fidel my mother got. I remember the two of them as always being together, even though Fidel died 10 years ago.

Lola has just *always* been there for my mom, though, and I've always been happy of that. And after the first few years, the last twenty years of knowing Lola has been great. It was very sudden - she got very sick very quickly, and with her age there wasn't much choice. Again, she wasn't... MY pet per se, but she was definitely OUR pet, and it was devastating to hear she was just.. gone. She's just always, always been there whenever I'd visit my mom - she would always greet me with the same happy chirp, the same triple-brush against my legs before she would let me pet her... She was always skinny too, despite being free-fed dry food AND getting extra wet food she never gained weight.

She was never a mean cat either, please don't get that sense - she was incredibly sweet. She just would get overstimulated like a lot of cats after ~90 seconds of intense petting/purring, and she was never very good at holding back when it came to her scratches - she only scratched one way, and it went deep and drew a lot a lot of blood. Again, I was a kid and I really did not "get" what it was all about. Thinking about it all now, it really makes me aware of just what a saint my mother is - and she absolutely is - in that she's one of those people who is just... She can't not willingly give of herself, so of course she had to save Lola and take her to the vet and take her home and nurse her back to health and pay for it all without a single grumble or complaint. while also being a single mother raising two kids and working full time.

The pic below is quintessential Lola, it's how she's always look for decades, literally! I know she was somewhere between 17 and 19 when that pic was taken, but I'm not sure when... That's her eternal expression, too - very inscrutable. It's crazy, though, when I look at this picture. Because my mom did save this frail little half-dead kitten, she lived for nearly 24 very happy years, sneaking through gardens in the summer, lazy naps in the haze, cuddling with grateful humans in front of fires. That's a pretty lovely way to look at it, honestly


1997 ~ 2020

Feb 8, 2007

I'm tired of hearing about money, money, money, money, money.
I just want to play the game, drink Pepsi, wear Reebok.

Grimey Drawer



Rust Martialis
May 8, 2007

Sarcastic Bastard


My boy Sam was a chonk catte, like 7.5 kilos, then after dental surgery in January, dropped a ton of weight to 4.0 kilos over the next months, until the vet called me today to say he was in stage 4 kidney failure and was not going to last much longer. Took him in around 4 and sent him off to the place without any more pain and sickness while I held him in my arms and told him he was a good boy as he went to sleep.

I can't stop crying.

Oh my beautiful boy, I am so sorry.

Nov 15, 2004

Today my cat of two years Karen was hit and killed by a car. She was my partner and my daughter in a very real way and made our lives infinitely better. I feel like I've been hit over the head with a bat, she was just the perfect cat in so many ways, not the least of which is that I wasn't allergic to her despite being allergic to basically every animal I've ever met. Feel like I'm living in a nightmare now, really just want to be unconcious. Hug all of your pets while you have the chance, I take comfort knowing that she loved us as much as we loved her and she had a great life, if way too short.

Apr 24, 2010

Hi guys,
Glad to find this tread. I just put my buddy Mingus to sleep 4 days ago. I'm wiping the tears as I type. Rescued him at 1.5 yrs and he was 14.5 when he succumbed to hip arthritis and a possible brain tumor. He was the most affectionate boy and loved to greet new people by sticking his snout between their legs! Such loyalty...had him put down at home as he had grown to hate the vet's office. He loved every minute of his life until the problems were too many. Rest easy buddy no more anxiety or pain.

Only registered members can see post attachments!

god this blows
Mar 13, 2003

So I had to put my faithful friend of 13 years down last night. Chloe was an amazing companion. The story of how we got her was my GF's daughter wanted a Shih Tzu so we went to a breeder in Elizabeth, CO. On the drive I got an uneasy feeling as they told us to go to an intersection and call them as cell phones didn't work there and they weren't on any GPS. We arrived and they brought out the Shih Tzu puppies who didn't really have any interest in us. They still had Chloe out as they had just sold her brother to the people before us. We could tell this place was a puppy mill and not a place we really wanted to support but Chloe curled up in our laps and chose us. Without saying anything she picked us and she became part of our lives. She was pretty easy to house train and was the best dog I've ever had. She wasn't the best with new people but she was awesome with us. Today has been very hard as my morning routine was always to take her for a walk while the coffee brewed. I know things will get easier but she is gone but not forgotten. If anyone knows of a good place to donate to for Cavalier King Charles Spaniels I would appreciate any recommendations. Here is probably my favorite picture of her that I will share with you guys. Thank you for having this place as I needed it right now.

Dec 27, 2012

Love Conquers All

I just had to put my cat Molly down yesterday, it was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made. It felt very sudden since the ER thought i could likely get another year out of her with medication, but unfortunately she wouldn't take them with food, treats, or anything else. Any pills i managed to feed her were immediately thrown up, so i suddenly went from having some hope to getting to spend a little more time with her to having her put down in about 14 hours. I could have waited a little longer but she had a heart condition that was filling her lungs with fluid, and i know that in a day or two later she would be in a lot of pain and really struggling to breathe again. I figured she wasn't going to be any more healthy than she was right then, and i couldn't bear thinking that she would spend the last few hours alive struggling to breathe and generally being in pain. So i brought her into the vet yesterday evening, they gave her the first shot to put her into a sleep, it took about 15 minutes and she slowly got sleepier and sleepier before passing into the coma. It was peaceful and i got to be with her the whole time telling her how great she was and how much she was loved in a happy voice, so hopefully she felt calm and relaxed during her last few minutes of consciousness. It was really hard saying goodbye, and i struggled leaving her there even though i know she couldn't hear me or anything anymore. I left and they gave her the second shot to euthanize her. She meant the world to me, and after 15ish years she was my oldest friend and the absolute greatest being to come into my life that ive ever experienced.

So with that, heres a little bit about Molly and what she meant to me.

She came into my life the summer of 2004 or 2005 so I was about 13 going on 14. I was visiting my grandparents at the time and when I got home we had a new kitten in the house. The way my mom tells it, she was driving home and slammed on the breaks to stop from running over a little kitten in the road. She got out of the car to make sure she was okay and the kitten sprinted towards her and jumped into her arms. Not wanting to leave the kitty there to starve or get hit by a car my mom brought her home, where they tried to decide what to do with her. We already had a bunch of animals, but for some reason we decided to add her to our family. When I came home she was just there, and it didnt take long for me and her to get close. Middle school was really difficult for me, it was an incredibly lonely time in my life and Molly was a very social kitten. She not only was very interested in spending time with me, but she would "talk" back when spoken to so I spent a lot of time with her as my sounding board while i talked with her. Her meow was very distinct, and would sometimes even sound like she was saying her own name "Mrowwlle". I dont have a ton of pictures of her during this time, but here are some from when she was maybe 1 or 2, playing with a cat toy. Its amazing now seeing her so thin and with so much energy in these pictures. What a goofball

It was 2010 when I left home and moved about 750 miles from home with a friend. About a month after I moved, my mom and step dad broke up and it was pretty contentious. Im thankful I didnt have to witness most of it, but part of the fallout was that most of the animals had to go, including Molly. My mom called and asked me if I would take her, and after talking with my friends/roommates i said absolutely. I flew there and flew back to my new home with her, thinking about it now apart from one other occasion that 6 weeks or so was probably the longest we were apart for her whole life. She got to join the wild ride that was my late teens and early 20s trying to figure everything out, and not all of it was bad. We ended up having a lot of people over pretty regularly, and every time someone would come home she would initially hide and then appear to shower whoever it was with so much affection. If anyone crashed on our couches you could expect to walk out the next morning and see her snuggling with whoever it was. You could always walk into a room she was in, look at her and say "Moooolly!" and she would look back and meow right back at you. Sometimes sassy, sometimes comforting, her meows felt like they had a wide range of emotions by that point and other people would sit and chat with her just like i did as a lonely kid back in my youth.

Here are some pictures of her from when she joined me then. She must have been about 5 by then.

As we both got older and left that first apartment, we entered a pattern of moving about once a year to a new place. Life wasn't very stable, and i know she didn't like moving very much, but we did the best we could. The recession in 2011-12 was still affecting everything and making it hard for a 20 year old guy with no previous work experience to find a job. This was also when I had my first heartbreak, and then fell into a relationship with my first serious girlfriend. For the first molly was there when i needed to feel loved, and needed to vent my emotions to someone without looking for judgement. for the second, she was there as apart of a new family i was forging that would last for the next five and a half years. This is also the time period where i have my biggest regrets with her. Like I said earlier, jobs were not avaliable and the one interview i was able to land i was disqualified for when time came to surprise me with a drug test that I failed thanks to weed. It was a low point in my life that I still have some residual fears around even though im a mildly successful almost 30 year old. I made the decision to start school at community college, and live off of the student loans that i could get. But I was out of money right then, and my i knew i could go back to my hometown and work for my moms new boyfriend and make some money to pay rent back home and also save up for college. I left Molly with my friends and roommates feeling pretty secure knowing that she would be taken care of for the 9 weeks or so i was going to be gone. Thats not what happened, pretty quickly the housing situation got toxic from what i hear, and people moved out and new people moved in, and suddenly nobody can find Molly. I get a call one morning from the last person i personally knew living in the house telling me Molly must have escaped and that he was now also moving out. For about 3 weeks i thought molly was dead, and i was incredibly devastated. When i finally returned, i figured out a new living situation with the guy i originally moved there with and we went to pick up my stuff at the house where i new knew nobody living there. While packing everything up I knew i had to try to find out what happened to her, I spent about an hour searching the house, and eventually i came up to the attic and sat for a while calling her name. Right as everything is finished being packed im about to leave when i hear a faint meow, crawling through the fiberglass (and maybe asbestos? That place was sketchy) I found her, tucked away in the smallest little nook between the roofing and the attic floor. She was barely responsive, and when I pulled her out the poor girl was skin and bones. She didnt resist me picking her up at all, which is incredible out of character for her. I felt so awful for putting her through that, and to this day i still feel awful for it. But I was so grateful she was alive, and I think she was grateful i was back. She probably thought I was gone forever, and was so scared of all the unfamiliarity happening around her she just retreated and hid, i have no idea how she ate or anything since cats need to eat within like 3-4 or their livers fail but it was miraculous and she was okay. I got her situated in our new house, living with people she knew, and slowly fed her up until she was a proper weight, and then to where she was overweight. Oops, but she was a happy fat cat for a while. She would be about 6 or 7 at this point.

I dont have many pictures of her from the next two years, i think i just have the one here:

I would consider the next two years to be the closest thing I had to living in a frat house with the frequent parties and constantly having people over. I was going to college to finish a two year degree and getting serious with the girlfriend i mentioned earlier, this would be when her and Molly really got to know each other and got pretty close. Molly was again a pretty constant fixture of that house, she would come out to socialize with all the new people, hang out with those who crashed on our couches, and if the house was quiet she got to pick from four different rooms to crash in with me/roommates. Everyone loved her. This was a brief period where i let her be an outside cat with supervision, which she loved but i would come to regret. A roommate brought another cat into the house towards the end of my time there, and it ushered in what we would dub the "Flea-pocolypse", which was miserable for everyone especially. The infestation got so bad that you could walk about ten feet and feel the dozens of fleas jumping on and off you with each step, nowhere was safe in the house and despite trying every treatment available to me nothing worked. It was so bad that when we moved out the owners of the house had to pull up the entire flooring and replace it. I didn't let Molly be an outside cat after that since she likely brought the fleas in initially, even if it was the other cat being left untreated by its owner that spiraled the situation out of control. Without examining the dates too closely i'm guessing Molly would be around 9 or 10 by now.

This period of our life came to a close and the next three years were defined my Molly, myself and my girlfriend moving in together and building what we hoped would be the foundations for the rest of our lives together. College was over, i got my first big-boy job with the government, and we settled into a lovely two bedroom starter apartment. Molly was starting to show signs of aging at this point and spent more time being sleepy and grumpy when you woke her up, but she was very affectionate still when she wanted to be. We were there for about a year and during this time she became the foster-parent to a kitten we added to our family. She wasnt super affectionate to the kitten, but it was her who taught the new kitty to use the litter box, and taught her mannerisms that she funnily enough had learned from a cat I lived with since I was a baby. That cat passed away shortly after I brought molly to live with me in 2010, so it was kind of funny seeing some kitty traditions being passed on through several generations of cats. I know my new ex-girlfriend still has that cat, i hope maybe someday she'll pass those traits on to another kitten. Anyway, here are a few pictures of her and the kitten during that time:

After that year, we needed to find a better place to live. There were rats in the walls, the landlord was a pervert who patrolled the grounds and peeked though peoples windows, the only upside to the place was how cheap it was and now that we both had jobs we sprung for a more expensive place. This would end up being the longest place both Molly and I would live at consecutively since i was still a teenager. It was a great spot, a relatively cheap three story duplex where she had tons of room for her to bask in the sun, and lots of places to hide when she wanted alone time. My girlfriend and I would spend another two years together there, until she and I decided to end our relationship. Things were a lot calmer for Molly during this time, there wasn't a ton of change and since she was getting older she was appreciating the quiet a lot more. I felt like it was my first "grown-up" living space, and we had people over for more quiet get togethers where she still loved to come out and get love from all the people who wanted to see her. The kitten she helped raise moved out with my ex, and though i think she was affectionate to a degree for the kitty i think she enjoyed being the only cat again. I stayed there one more year after the breakup before moving on. Here are some pictures of her, she would be between 11-13 or 14 at this point.

Towards the end of our time at that house is when I met my next girlfriend, who would end up joining our lives for the next two years (until about late February of this year). I met her though tinder and she only swiped right on my initially because I had a picture of Molly on my profile. I had set the "smart photos" on and I guess tinder decided that was my most attractive picture because that was the first one is showed on my profile, cant say I disagree with their logic Molly was a beautiful cat. I wish I still had that picture but I cant find it anymore. After that house we moved into my first solo apartment, not much to say about this since not a lot happened with her during this time. She continued to get older, spent a lot of time sleeping and laying in the sun when possible. After that apartment My girlfriend and I moved into a place together, she ended up getting another cat that was and older male cat Molly wasn't very fond of. About six months of living together and we broke up, and went our separate ways. About six months after that brings us to today, and I'm grateful that Molly got to spend time alone again as she was acting very old at this point and in the last few weeks especially her health got worse and worse. Here are the photos of the rest of her life that i have from the last two years.

If you read this whole thing, thank you. It's been incredibly cathartic typing all of this out and sharing my time with Molly with you all. The loss is still very fresh, and im still incredibly sad and lost now that shes gone, but i think writing out the timeline of our life together helped process that a little bit. Even if you didn't read it I hope you enjoyed the pictures of my baby, my love, who meant more to me than I can ever begin describing. She was the last connection i had to the life i grew up with, to a family unit who doesn't exist anymore in a place that is practically unrecognizable now. She grew up with me, was there when i needed her most, and i tried my best to be the best parent to her that i could be. She affected everything in my life, considering her in big decisions like where i could and couldn't live to smaller considerations like making sure we had a care routine and that someone would be there for her if i was gone from the house for longer than a day. She helped my build personal relationships with people in my life, and taking care of her gave a young man some much needed structure in a life that felt like it was constantly crumbling around him.

Molly I love you so much, I hope you knew that even if the last couple of weeks were spent upset at me for bringing you in and out of the vet and trying to force you to eat medicine you hated. I dont know what life going forward is going to entail but I do know that my world was all the brighter with you in it and im so thankful you we had our time together. I wont ever forget you.

Here is a gif of me waking her up and showering her with too much affection and pissing her off

Dec 13, 2017
NRA shill who thinks homeless people would love to live in migrant border camps. Help me realize I am a bigoted piece of shit.

Hasselblad posted:

OP, how goes the healing?

Just yesterday I had to say goodbye to my constant companion of 16+ years. Working from my home office he was rarely more than a floor away from me, and everywhere I look is a reminder of him. Including the pup bed at the feet of my desk.

He had a bout with liver disease a few years ago and he bounced back. This time it was not so kind. Reuben was a puppy up till the day prior when he was lethargic and then had a vicious blood clot in his hind leg. The liver disease was also back with a vengeance and he was in sudden excruciating pain. We were able to take that pain away and say goodbye while we held him. Hopefully Abhoo finds Reuben and they have some good romping.

One of the last trips this summer to his favorite stick fetching place:

And 2020 is about to take our other pup. Bacon was the older and we expected her to go first, with Reuben to be around to soften the blow.
2020 being 2020, Reuben went first, unexpectedly and soul crushingly. Bacon has had health issues for a while now, and it hasn't been fair to her, allowing her to struggle each day, mostly blind, deaf, both back knees a wreck, mind going, and going to the bathroom without warning.

Tomorrow we have a vet coming to the house to help her go peacefully, and in a place familiar to her.

In better times...

Dec 16, 2003

it's mario time

I'll preface by saying I've read every loving tribute in this thread, and have teared up more than once seeing the love represented between ourselves and our (usually) furry companions.

I also knew that a day would soon come to talk about losing my own.

If you've been a frequent visitor to these forums, especially on Desktop, you've seen Shadow before. That's her on the left:

My fiancee and I had been living together in our first apartment for about a year in Florida when on one of our frequent walks around the neighborhood, there was a rustling in the bushes and out popped a plump tabby, her tail high in the air and she immediately began rubbing up against our legs. Some people let their cats wander the neighborhood and we assumed this was no different. She followed us around a little bit and got plenty of pets and skritches before we said our goodbyes and went back inside.

Over the coming days we kept running into her, and began to notice she was starting to lose weight. She was barrel chested, built to be an absolute roly-poly so we became a bit concerned that she was slowly becoming more emaciated. We also noticed she was missing one of her fangs, but she didn't seem to mind none. We bought some cheapo cat food and put some outside for her to see if she wanted any. This is the oldest photo I have of her, from September 2006:

One night we heard a catfight outside and a day or so later we found Miss roly-poly, still as friendly as ever but now with a noticeable abscess on her forehead. We knew she wasn't supposed to be outside, and brought her in. "Found Cat" flyers went around the neighborhood, and her abscess wasn't healing. She may have been really lost. We took her to the shelter where they quickly determined she was microchipped and spayed. They'd take care of her abscess and track down her owner. At my fiancee's behest I said that if for any reason they couldn't find her owner, we wanted first dibs at adopting her. They said if they didn't call back, it meant she was reunited with her owner.

A week went by. Then two. Then three. My fiancee was in tears, having become so quickly attached to the cat. I assured her it must have meant she was back at the home she was meant to be.

Then right around Halloween I got a call from the shelter. They had a cat whose owner refused to claim her and my number was there as a possible adoptee. Did I still want her?

Hell yes. I paid the adoption fees and brought her home the next day. As soon as she was home and out of the box she saw me, and started purring right away. She had such a loud purr, one you could hear across the room. She hopped up on the couch and immediately fell asleep. Occasionally that first night she'd squeal and wake up, a nightmare that she was back at the shelter. But she looked around, saw me, purred, and fell back to sleep.

She was back at the home she was meant to be.

We named her Shadow, because she would follow us around everywhere we went in those days and was soon back to being a plump, fat and happy kitty. A few years in a rambunctious kitten named Ponyo joined the family and Shadow. Absolutely. HATED. Her. Clearly she was happy as three-person family unit, and the fuzzy interloper who always wanted to pounce on her was a mortal enemy. Eventually she learned to... tolerate Ponyo, but it became clear she wanted nothing to do with any other cats in the household.

I'd come to learn she had separation anxiety for obvious reasons, and the occasional panic attack would see her howling around the apartment, peeing and pooping indiscriminately. Sometimes just holding her closely would calm her down and her purrs would begin anew.

She had health problems almost from the get-go. While the missing tooth didn't bother her none, we found she suffered from bladder crystals and was moved to a prescription urinary SO diet. As the years went by, so too did her health problems worsen. Hyperthyroidism meant she got pills twice a day (crushing them up and sprinkling them on her food helped). But then around 2015 we got news she had begun to go into renal failure. It was still early and switching her diet again made sure the process could be managed. But Shadow was beginning to drop weight again, her once bright coat became unkempt, and she just started slowing down in general. We don't know how old she was, but it was probably late 2001 to 2003.

Health problems mounted and we started having semi-regular scares that she may not bounce back. Megacolon. Pancreatitis. Heart disease. And yet somehow she did, every time. She became a bit more ornary in her old age, but one thing that never faltered was her love and trust in my now-wife and I. When COVID hit and I began working from home, it was a bit of a blessing as it meant I could easily keep Shadow on a reliable medication regime but also the chair next to my computer desk became her de-facto bed, and she would sleep alongside me while I worked every day, occasionally wanting to hop in my lap for pets (often during Zoom calls).

We knew she was on borrowed time, but it still was so sudden. On Thursday I noticed she was having some difficulty walking before having to rest, often on the floor. A day later she stopped eating and drinking. I took her to the animal hospital where they found her kidney failure had gotten significantly worse. It's a balancing act, trying to keep the kidneys flush with fluid, which can damage her heart which was being treated with blood pressure medication. I took her back home and hoped an appetite stimulant would help improve her condition. She sat down on the couch and didn't move from her spot.

She went back tonight, and they could hear some fluid in her lungs. Since she was barely drinking and not eating at all and she had lost control of her bladder function. I knew it was time. Prolonging it would mean she'd only suffer more.

But I still have immediate regrets. I wish I had one more day with Shadow. She found us 14 years ago and brought so much joy and happiness in our home. My eyes hurt from crying as I type this obituary, feet away from the chair beside my computer where she should be sleeping.

My wife said Shadow's returned to be one with the universe. I remain behind in hell.

Ballz fucked around with this message at 04:00 on Aug 17, 2020

Sep 16, 2019

Milo. I loved you. 2010-2020.

Jul 9, 2003

Well, you asked.

College Slice

This is peanut. She was a good dog.

She gets excited to see people.

Really excited

Sheís a good dog.í

Now sheís gone. And thatís not fair.

She lived with my in-laws. They needed her. They needed that goofy love that comes from a dog. But sheís gone now.

Please remember peanut.

Aug 7, 2004

Fun Shoe

It's been almost six months since I lost Benny (Grampa as we took to calling him in his old age) at almost exactly fourteen years old by a couple days, but I only just found this thread while late night browsing. To those of you still feeling the fresh hurt of your lost loved one, it gets easier, but not better with time.

I can laugh and joke and eat again, but I still pretty regularly find myself wondering what he's up to and why he's not in the room with me before remembering. He used to sleep in a bed in the corner on my side of the bed and I'd always start my day by waking up, looking over the edge, and waking him up with pets. I still wake up and look for him in the corner. Sometimes our other dog, Pig, is there and it's not so bad but she usually prefers the couch and doesn't stick around all night.

I'll still sometimes come across random photos, toys, or music that reminds me of him and just start crying like a little baby as if I just lost him yesterday again. I'm not an emotional person. My wife makes fun of me by calling me a robot that doesn't get emotions and she's not really wrong. In ten years with her I had never cried once until the night I knew I was going to lose him.

In my younger and stupider days I picked up 8-ish week old Grampa off a farm in the middle of rural Oklahoma more or less on a whim because I had never had a dog and I wanted a dog. Their dog had been knocked up by a neighbor's dog and they just wanted to get rid of the puppies so they put an ad in the paper and there I went. Later in his life I bought one of those Wisdom Panel tests for him for fun. If those are to be believed, he was 25% pit bull, 50% boxer, 12% lab, and a few other breeds mixed in.

I was NOT prepared to raise a dog. I took a lot of bad advice from ignorant people and didn't treat young Grampa the way he deserved, but it didn't matter to him. He was still excited to see me every day, was eager to play and learn and was always a positive force in my life. Through reading PI and various other sources I learned how to treat a dog after a couple years and lots of frustration. He didn't hold a grudge, but I know I can never take back how I treated young Grampa and that hurts almost as bad as losing him.

I went through a pretty bad breakup shortly after moving to a city where I had no support structure and he got me through it. No matter how badly I wanted to wallow or rage, he was there and still needed to eat and play and walk and that fact gave me purpose. I think that's when we REALLY bonded. He became and always will be my best bud and losing him left a hole that can never be filled again.

He was suspicious of strangers and slow to warm up to new people, but eventually everyone that met him fell in love with him. He would never willingly spend time in a room that didn't contain someone he trusted. He would just stand, sit, or lay there staring at them like they were the entire universe, waiting patiently for attention. Even well past his ability to easily get around he would get up and do what we called his house patrol every couple hours, methodically checking every room in the house to make sure he knew who was there and where they were.

He always seemed to know when someone wasn't feeling right and would attempt to comfort with kisses or even just by laying down against them and being a warm and comforting presence. My wife's grandmother credits him with saving her life with his house patrols. She was staying with us while working through some health issues and needed to eat often. Grampa would wake her up every couple hours on his patrols by pressing her hand or arm with his nose which she took as a reminder to eat.

He started having mini seizures and leg spasms, especially at night around twelve years old. On rare occasions he even peed in the house or on furniture, something completely out of character for a dog we joke had an infinite bladder. We complained about it to his vet regularly, and did a million tests, but results always came back perfect as though he were a dog half his age. It all came to a head just a few days before his 14th birthday. He was drinking some water and his loyal minion, Pig, was just standing there admiring the way he drank when we heard her start nasty growling. She rarely ever shows aggression of any kind so it got our attention. Grampa had stopped drinking and was just staring at the wall while she growled. Then he just collapsed on the floor and she ran for her life.

We rushed him to the 24 hour vet who noted pale gums and anemia, but could see no reason for it. After a stressful night I made the call to bring him home, hoping we could make him comfortable and let him pass in peace at home where he was safe. He refused to go and was still fighting the next morning. I took him to another vet who did a second round of x-rays and claimed to see a mass on his liver and said there wasn't much that could be done. By then, Grampa was so weak he couldn't walk on his own and I was carrying him.

We took him home and tried to make him comfortable for another night, hoping he would go peacefully. We slept on the floor as close as we could get to him in his bed, but despite being so weak that he peed on himself overnight, he refused to go so I finally made the worst decision of my life and took him back to the 24 hour vet. We hugged him and petted him and cried on him as they injected him and that was that. I still beat myself up for simultaneously making the call to end his life and waiting as long as I did to do it. There was no winning move in that situation.

His ashes are in a box on a bookshelf. I'm planning to bury them under a tree sapling if we ever manage to move to a property we plan on living in for the rest of our lives. Thanks for reading all that if you did. Even after a few months it felt good to just write it down. Looking at those pics and videos is still hard. I can still see myself giving him a great big hug.

Like I said at the beginning, it gets easier, but it never gets better.

Young Grampa making his best face.

Old Grampa, still all smiles.

Sharing a bed with Pig before we had our floors installed. He tolerated her. Her life revolved around him. She took his loss harder than I did and she still isn't the same dog anymore.
A couple short videos I took of him around the same time as the first picture. He was about three in these.

Duck Stab!
Oct 21, 2020


Lost my sweet little boy of 17 years last month and it's been absolutely heartbreaking. Snickers loved everyone and was the sweetest cat. He loved to be held like a baby and chill out with anyone and demanded to be near somebody at all times. Had him since he was a tiny kitten that we got from someone outside of a CVS and man...I miss you every day little buddy.

Dec 13, 2017
NRA shill who thinks homeless people would love to live in migrant border camps. Help me realize I am a bigoted piece of shit.

I still revisit this thread, and feel for each and every one of your losses.

Apr 3, 2001


Hasselblad posted:

I still revisit this thread, and feel for each and every one of your losses.
Same. I don't reply often anymore, because I think it's better to let the remembrances of lost friends stand on their own, but I read every one of them. Your furry buddies are seen and appreciated.

Vintimus Prime
Apr 24, 2008

DERRRRRPPP what are picture threads for????

Today we sent my first dog, Leia over the rainbow bridge. 2008-2020.

She had nerve damage when she was 2, and her back end finally started to atrophy. Loss of appetite, bladder control, vision control, and different medications tried indicated it was time for us to let her go.

The kids are heart broken, my wife has been crying all day, Iíve been losing it on and off all day while trying to work.

Iím loving heart broken. My first dog. I love her so much.

May 9, 2004


Toilet Rascal


Jun 28, 2008

This is Nok. He passed away peacefully yesterday, November 22nd, 2020 at approximately 12:55 PM. He was 12 years old.

He was quieter this year and it would be easy to forget that he was here when he was but the house just now feels much quieter and emptier now. When I come home, I still expect to be greeted before I've even exited my car to his tone-deaf whistling from within the house.

I miss him so much.

Here's him as a baby during his first vet visit.

One of my favorite pictures of him. He always had trouble with his tail. He was always very clumsy and it would end up breaking or looking disheveled, even as a baby.

I'm relieved that I can take solace in the fact that he passed away in the living room area where he spent most of his time. My dad was the one who witnessed him take his last breaths and I'm so glad that he wasn't alone.

birds fucked around with this message at 03:01 on Nov 24, 2020

Dec 13, 2017
NRA shill who thinks homeless people would love to live in migrant border camps. Help me realize I am a bigoted piece of shit.

birds posted:

This is Nok. He passed away peacefully yesterday, November 22nd, 2020 at approximately 12:55 PM. He was 12 years old.

He was quieter this year and it would be easy to forget that he was here when he was but the house just now feels much quieter and emptier now. When I come home, I still expect to be greeted before I've even exited my car to his tone-deaf whistling from within the house.

I miss him so much.

Here's him as a baby during his first vet visit.

One of my favorite pictures of him. He always had trouble with his tail. He was always very clumsy and it would end up breaking or looking disheveled, even as a baby.

I'm relieved that I can take solace in the fact that he passed away in the living room area where he spent most of his time. My dad was the one who witnessed him take his last breaths and I'm so glad that he wasn't alone.

How old is typical for such an awesome birb?

Jun 28, 2008

Hasselblad posted:

How old is typical for such an awesome birb?

Anywhere from 12-20 or so generally. It's actually quite a wide range and some Cockatiels end up being in their mid to late 20's. So it's not a total shock to be honest and the sadness has started to make way for thoughts of the happy memories we had.

Dec 19, 2012

Wolverine with Parrots!

Macy you were a sweetie

Apr 13, 2008

This was Lucky, who was bottle fed by my because she was rejected by her mother "alley cat". Her mother rejected her after I pulled her out of a pile of cinder blocks in the alley. So I bottle fed her - her favorite things were dipping her tail in the bathub without noticing during my bath and then falling in and freaking out and scratching the poo poo out of me like it was my fault.

Whenever I think of a bath I think of her.

This was like 2 years ago but I don't believe I ever posted a picture and missng her now, it's from when I first took her home after my grandmother died.

Snazzy Frocks
Mar 30, 2003


My cat of only 10 years Magnus passed last night. Seems surreal since there was no signs of poor health or irregular behavior most of yesterday. He normally howls for a few moments at night when he gets closed out of the bedroom for sleep time but last night's was different and more urgent but I ignored it only to find him laid out around the corner a half hour later. He was crying for help or comfort and I ignored him. I only hope he can forgive me in whatever plane of existence he finds himself in.

Rip only good catte I ever had.

Jul 28, 2006

Next nothing new.

I am absolutely heartbroken. My baby of thirteen and a half years passed on Tuesday night. Her name was Ashley and she was the sweetest cat Iíve ever seen. I canít stop crying. She had a vet check up in June and everything was fine. About two weeks ago her appetite started to decrease and she was drinking way too much water. Her kidneys were failing and on Tuesday her breathing was labored and the vet said she had congestive heart failure. I had to make the awful decision to put her to sleep. I was able to into the vet and hold her one last time. Ashley I loved you so much and I will always miss you.

Mister Facetious
Apr 21, 2007

You're Goddamned right I support Medicare for all.

A black domestic medium hair that my brother gave/left with me in 2012, just before he got his life back in order. He died I had him euthanized on January 9th, 2021 after he was no longer able to support himself on his hind legs, and stopped eating unless I helped him (thrombosis). Darkly was somewhere between 16-21 years old, I'm not really sure. He was already a pudgy adult when I first met him in '07. He was the kindest, quietest, most loving creature I've ever had the privilege of living with on this Earth. He shed hair everywhere and was a bitch to keep groomed. I spoiled the Hell out of him and he was chill to every stranger that walked in. I miss you. I'm sorry I couldn't make you better.

Mister Facetious fucked around with this message at 00:02 on Jan 16, 2021

Aug 15, 2009

~2001/2002 Ė 1/15/2021

My favorite picture of her. Such a beautiful dog.

I want to tell you all about Daisy. At the time of posting this, it's been approximately 12 hours since we said goodbye. I know I made the right decision, but I'm sick to my stomach with grief.

She was eternally vibrating with concern.

Daisy was a very good girl, like all dogs are. She lived to be at least 19 and change and when we brought her in for the last time, her body was incredibly healthy for such an old dog. Good heart, good lungs, good bones. A real drat shame. We took good care of her, which is good to know because we did our best with very, very little. She ate better than we did, and we did everything in our power to manage her symptoms and keep her comfortable. Other than the slow-then-sudden creep of doggy dementia, the only problems she had were generic old dog problems and an ear infection that were easily managed. I always knew her mind would go before her body did, and this week she reached the point where enough became enough and I couldn't watch her regress any further. I'm not even sure she was cognizant enough to know what was going on, but that doesn't change that I still feel like I betrayed her.

A funny face on a funny dog.

She came to us in '03 or '04, already an adult. I was in middle school. My mother was working at a vets office, and someone brought her in and never came back to get her. They called her previous owner dozens of times and when they finally got through to him he said he no longer wanted her and didn't have time for her anyway Ė she was spending 20 hours a day in a cage because he didn't feel like training her. Mom brought her home and we saw why her previous owner didn't want her. She needed so much work. She didn't know how to dog. She was so traumatized and so fearful. Man? Cower, fear pee, hide. Hair brush? Cower, fear pee, hide. Fast movements and loud noises? Cower, fear pee, hide. She was a JRT, or at least that's what we were told, but never acted like one. Like me, I always thought, she was too broken by where she came from to behave like she was supposed to. She was never a problem though; in fact, the opposite. She didn't dig or destroy furniture. She didn't bark like other members of her breed are supposed to. She wasn't a hunter at all. She was so smart and so good and so loyal.

Going by the laundry basket and floor, I think this was sometime between 2007 and 2009.

She wasn't even my dog until '06. She was just a dog no one wanted, who ended up with us. When my parents divorced, she stayed with me and my dad Ė the woman that had first brought her home no longer wanted her. She had a new dog, a different dog, a dog she liked better. So Daisy stayed here, because no one knew what else to do with her. Once my mom was gone, Daisy blossomed into an amazing companion. I brought her out of most of her fear, and she got to do normal dog stuff like get belly rubs and play fetch without flinching. She loved fetch, but hated giving the ball back and I would chase her around and she loved it. She was sharp and quick and so desperate for positive attention and love that she was an absolute breeze to train. Her recall was excellent and I could trust her off leash anywhere. She loved me. I was her person. I was the one that worked her through her issues and for a long time I was the only person she trusted. After a couple of years, you would have had no idea that this dog once spent her days locked up and was so afraid of people she would shut down. Cats, toddlers, other dogs, other pet species, she didn't have an aggressive bone in her body, she was everyone's friend. She was so sweet and she became so brave.

So gentle, she was allowed to say hello to the rats. From 2015. Louise, the rat pictured, passed in the summer of 2018, the last of the colony I had kept for nearly a decade. The mystery tail belongs to Cookie, who passed in 2016. I guess this is for them too.

She was so funny. She never learned to give kisses 'the right way' Ė instead, she would get right up in your face, stare deep into your eyes, sneeze, and then give you a single teeny tiny little lick right on the nose before running away. You could boop the dot on her nose and she would spin. She would do those cute little spins when she wanted something. We called them her Daisy Dances. She had so many dumb little nicknames Ė Doodoo, Doedoo, Daisy Danger Dog, Doze. So many songs I would change the words to fit her name and sing to her, and she would bounce and spin in excitement. She got me through every single bad thing that happened to me since. She protected me. She was there for me during the dark years I can't remember. She knew when I was upset, and she hugged back. I can't even tell you how many nights I cried into her fur. She was beautiful inside and out. She slept in my bed by my feet every single night until she could no longer get on and off the bed on her own and then we got her the biggest, comfiest beds we could find.

Just a danger dog on a dangerous deck.

Over the last few years, the brave and loving dog I grew up with started to lose herself. She would forget where she was, or who we were. At first, it was infrequent. Her eyes would glaze over and she would stare at nothing, shaking like she did before she became my best friend. She became fearful again, worse than she was when she first came to me. We couldn't brush her or trim her nails without traumatizing her worse. More recently, we couldn't even touch her or walk by her without her flinching and throwing herself away from us Ė she even hurt her paw trying to get away because she thought my partner was going to hurt her just walking by her. This dog that was so gentle and so sweet started snapping at us and my cat, who is the same-ish age as her and has been with her since she became mine. They were best friends too. I know it was fear because she was losing herself and she would never willingly hurt even a mouse much less the cat that she'd been snuggling with and letting clean her for years or the people she loved so much.

A bad Christmas photo of her and my cat, Cashew.

It was a slow decline at first, and then over the last few months it accelerated. She became withdrawn and stopped playing. Stopped responding to both the audible and visual commands she once learned so quickly. Stopped having any kind of drive, but she still looked forward to food. Sometimes I would be talking to her and I could see her slip into one of her confusion states. Over the last couple of weeks, she got hit by a double whammy of physical issues. She's always had a persistent ear infection and that came back worse than I'd ever seen because we couldn't make her feel safe enough to tend to her properly without terrifying her. Her old bones were sore, and this week she stopped being able to stand up without assistance. Assistance that she would yelp and flee from, hobbling on whichever of her legs hurt the least that day, because she was so lost she could no longer trust us. Relatable.

Daisy and Frankie, probably a year or two after I got the pug.

I made the decision this morning, after watching her sharply decline since Christmas. She started falling a lot. She would get stuck because she didn't have the strength to stand back up. She fell hard into the water bowl and then wedged herself into the corner by the fridge, staring at the wall and shivering like she'd never felt warmth in her life. I gave her the space and time I knew she needed to come back to herself so I could move her safely and when I got her back into her bed I knew it was time. I could always tell whether she was 'home' or not. I was sort of raised by animals and I've always been more in tune with them than other humans. This morning, when she came back to herself, the look on her face and in her eyes said she was tired and had had enough and I made the call. I'd been waiting until she got to the point where she was having more bad days than good days, because she was a good dog who deserved to enjoy her life. The vet said she was healthy for her age aside from the recent problems and wanted to treat her, but he hadn't witnessed her decline like I did. We may have been able to keep her body alive, but she lived in pure terror most recent nights and she deserved so much better than that. Were it not for her ever worsening mental state, she honestly probably had a few more years left in her. I am full of guilt. What if she could have had more good days? I know in my heart and mind that she couldn't, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. Keeping her for longer would have been selfish and cruel, but letting her go also feels selfish and cruel.

Fall 2015. You can see how old she'd gotten. Today (well, yesterday now, gently caress) you could hardly tell that she ever had color to begin with.

She deserved more than I was able to give her, that's for drat sure. Sweet Child o' Mine played softly on the radio as we pulled up to the vet; a song I often sung to her and a song I will never be able to hear the same again. I stroked her age-bleached face and told her how pretty and good and sweet she was and that it would be okay and I loved her, and then I watched the light leave her eyes and she was gone, just like that. I hope she forgives me. I feel like I betrayed her even though it was the right thing to do. She deserved to rest, after all she's done for me. I feel like she only held on as long as she did because she felt like she had to protect me. I was her person. I was the person that took her when no one else wanted her when she was so broken, and I think she knew that and she rewarded me with so much love and loyalty. She was one of the only things that mattered to me. I have so little left from the brief period of time my life was worth living, and absolutely nothing to look forward to but misery.

She is survived by Frankie, who we got as a companion dog for her almost a decade ago, and Cashew, an also ancient and now one-eyed cat with diabetes who nearly died last year, himself. I don't know if they realize she isn't coming back, but they knew she wasn't doing good. The pug has never, ever been alone in her life and I think I'm kind of projecting my own anxieties about coping without Daisy on to her. I think Frankie is doing better than I am. She's a tough little dog, raised by another tough little dog.

In the summers before, when things were good, I would load up both dogs and take them to get ice cream and then drive around so they could see and smell the world. I brought them everywhere I could. We didn't get to do that the last couple of years. It snowed a little when we pulled into the driveway with an empty collar and heavy hearts. She loved the snow when she was a younger dog.

Please rest in peace, Daisy-doo. Know that you were important, and that you were loved, and that you were a good girl and we never blamed you. You deserved so much better, and I don't know what I'm going to do without you.

Sep 28, 2009

friendship is magic
in a pony paradise
don't you judge me

I had to put down my beautiful precious 16 year old cat Sabi yesterday afternoon after an overnight vet visit. She had very suddenly woken up the day before with no use in her legs but was otherwise fine. The vet diagnosed a neurological issue, likely a brain tumour, and the prognosis was not good. I went to say goodbye and she wanted to stand and come to me so bad, but she didnít know where her gotdang paws started cause her brain was hosed. She laid on my foot and the vet said itíd be fast and even so I wasnít ready. She looked up at me as the vet put the syringe in and seconds later she lowered her head and then she went limp and it was done. It was the right thing and it was the worst thing and now Iím just in bed crying cause sheís not here.

I was expecting to be prepared, she was in early stages of kidney diseases and I thought it would be what took her, eventually. Nobody expects a loving brain tumour. I just want to scream.

edit: let's get an image in here since it's supposed to be a memorial after all. My cat and my cup.

Milli fucked around with this message at 05:14 on Feb 1, 2021

Mister Facetious
Apr 21, 2007

You're Goddamned right I support Medicare for all.

I can relate, albeit with some humans I know (and knew). Treasure every memory of your fur ball.

Jan 11, 2009

I had to unexpectedly put my cat to sleep yesterday morning. Her weight had been very low for several months but her bloodwork in December was good and she was eating, drinking, and had a good energy level. I started free feeding her and there wasnít any follow up needed from the vet. She never gained anymore weight, but other wise behavior continued to be fine.

This entire week I noticed she had become incredibly clinging. She had started jumping on me when I was at the table just to sit in my lap. Physically peeling back the covers of my sheets to crawl in bed and curl up next to me all night. If I ignored her, she was relentless. She HAD to be under the covers with me. This for the most part was normal behavior as she was so emotionally attached to me, but it had become next level neediness this week. I made a joke that she was acting like she was never going to see me again.

When I came home from work on Thursday night she didnít greet me at the door. She stayed on the bed and didnít move. I got her to lap up some water and eat a few bites of food. I was worried but thought maybe she just wasnít feeling well since she had been fine the rest of the week. I went to bed that night with a pit in my stomach. I just felt that some thing was very wrong.

I called the vet in the morning since she was still acting off and the vet told me to come in immediately. After bloodwork, x-rays, and an ultrasound, the vet said she likely had very late stage kidney lymphoma and was not going to make it. There was nothing I could do for her at this point. She was in so much pain and fluids could have maybe sustained her a few more days but I didnít want to put her through any thing else. I hugged her and petted her as they euthanized her. I feel so guilty knowing that she was probably in so much pain this last week which is why she wanted to be so close to me all the time.

This is my sweet Margot. She was a rescue who had a leg injury when I adopted her back in 2013. One leg was shorter than the other and she walked with a limp. This didnít slow her down, but meant she could only jump on the couch and nothing higher. I called her my little floor dweller. I have never bonded with anything or anyone as much as I did with Margot. I feel so lost with my little shadow.

Bulky Bartokomous
Nov 3, 2006

In Mypos, only the strong survive.

Axqu posted:

Yeah... yeah, I know you're right. Not even debatable; I know you're right. I just... idk man, he was the best and most reliable little dude. He sang when he was happy. That's why I named him Paul. After Paul McCartney. I was gonna get him a roommate and name the roomie John (Lennon). He was trainable too. I had it so he'd swim up to the front of the glass when I tapped it at feeding time.

I'm doing okay. My brush with death was about 4 years ago and I've improved so much I'm almost not even recognizably the same person any more. My therapist is an absolute powerhouse and she's got me firmly in hand. I'm just wallowing in guilt and grief at the moment and it sounds scarier than it is. My fiancť had to leave yesterday for 3 weeks of job training so I'm fairly isolated right now and taking things harder than I otherwise would. I'm gonna go see a close friend this weekend, I've got my grandparents close by, and my buddies are checking in... plus this is an excuse to spoil my other 2 frogs with treats and appreciate them lots and lots. Thank you, kind goonfriend. I'm okay.

Edit to add: I'm gonna get a couple more frogs of the same species, but not normals and not males. A couple female albinos. With better tank security, natch. I love ACFs but I don't wanna replace Paul because Paul is irreplaceable. I wanna get a couple girls so I don't look in the tank and mistake them for him. Having a couple charming ACFs to pour my heart into will be good for me.

Glad to hear you're doing better. This might sound crazy, but maybe Paul knew you were good and had to go help someone else. It sounds like he was very good at it.

Mar 26, 2007

I am Nooner

My snake ran away after I moved and I still kinda miss the guy even though it was like 8 years ago. I guess I don't miss that mean looks I would get from the people working at petco when I would go in to buy a rat and they would ask me which one I wanted and would just tell them idk just grab a fat one, it's snake food


Nov 12, 2020

Looking at old photographs and getting melancholy late at night. So I guess tonight is a memorial night. I work with a no-kill shelter as a volunteer and have since late 2018/early 2019. We have a lot that find homes, some that are either effectively or officially permanent residents (most of my guys are permanents), but we do have a few that pass away for various reasons. I miss them.

Pooky was a sweetheart. Fairly normal age for my group (6 or 7 when he passed), but by far one of the friendliest in the shelter. He'd get up on a shelf and rub his face against your forehead. He'd sit on your lap and give the sweetest stares and purrs. He'd climb on your shoulders just to be with you. We ended up actually having him in a popularity contest fundraiser (hence the tie).

Unfortunately the metaphorical dice didn't end up in his favor. Kidney failure, he had hidden it very well until it got severe. Nothing we were really able to do for him but make it an easy and painless exit. Pooky is one of the ones who got me to start working with the shelter in the first place - he was definitely unique.

Whiskers wasn't one of my guys. He was a permanent resident due to special needs; much like my boy Corky, he had urinary issues that had already gotten him returned from one home that wasn't willing to put in any effort, and it turned out that what that home hadn't tried to figure out was that it was a medical condition. So he stayed with the others and saw visitors, and he was loving. Wrapped himself around your arm, another shoulder cat, just a very sweet guy who had a really bad draw in life.

I don't know what happened to him. He passed away a week I wasn't there and I wasn't kept in the loop very well. As far as I know it was painless, and that's what we can ask for.

Bella was an older girl. Obese when she came in (the above is from when she first arrived), and she never did quite reach a healthy weight. Scared and skittish for a long time, worsened by her fur mats being bad enough she had to be shaved. Got pushed around by another old cat, and was generally a poor stressed-out old lady.

We worked on helping her lose weight and get more social. It was somewhat working, but at her age (almost 10) a lot of the damage was done. She got skin infections and other nasty stuff from the combo of her weight, long fur, and inability to reach to clean herself properly, and I don't think her heart ever really worked quite right. She didn't find a new home, but we did our best to make this one okay.

Just the one for Benny, one of our office cats. She was a senior citizen (I think 13 or 14 at least?) who just wanted to roam the office, sit on your paperwork, and successfully beg for treats. Slept a lot, purred a lot. Bonded with management. Age caught up to her, but she had a long time with a lot of love.

The rainbow bridge crossings are rare, but it always hurts when we have one. These aren't the only ones, or even the only ones I personally knew; I just still had their pictures in the camera roll.

I hope doing our best was good enough.

Feb 19, 2014

Nooner posted:

My snake ran away after I moved and I still kinda miss the guy even though it was like 8 years ago. I guess I don't miss that mean looks I would get from the people working at petco when I would go in to buy a rat and they would ask me which one I wanted and would just tell them idk just grab a fat one, it's snake food
my GF keeps the snake food rat in the freezer wrapped in waxed butcher's paper or whatever and i keep going for them when im looking for dinner ingredients thinking its sausages or something

every drat time

numberoneposter fucked around with this message at 19:05 on Mar 11, 2021

May 1, 2010

Dis is amazing!
I gotta try dis!

My little dog Sassy passed away last week month (I've had to stop and come back to writing this many times). I'm the only one who misses her and I'm having a tough time with her sudden passing. I'm trying to focus on the positive side of her life with my family. My mother adopted Sassy when she was already eight years old. She only came with a fleece blanket which seemed sad because all of our dogs have had a lot of toys and beds and bowls that were theirs. I don't think badly of her previous owner since she wasn't abused or anything, but she was definitely a rescue. We spoiled her of course, and it took me a while to clean all of her things and put them away. Here's a picture of her in first winter with a new little dog coat:

That was my mother's favorite picture of Sassy and it was on her desk at work until she retired. This one was one of my favorites because it was so funny to me that she was so small she could sit on a piece of paper. I had this one made into a canvas print that my mother was ambivalent about but I will now have by her urn as a memorial:

A friend of the family visited after Sassy joined our family and did a colored pencil portrait of her. I'm looking for the original to add to the physical memorial by her urn, but I at least have a picture of the artwork:

Unlike any of our other dogs, Sassy didn't know how to play. She didn't like toys or chasing balls or playing tug. We don't know if it's just how she was treated by her first owners or if she was just odd. She just wanted to be held and liked to snuggle and eat food. I guess it's a yorkie trait but she would follow my mom around non stop. My mom said she was like a little stalker and to some degree that was true since she always wanted to find her favorite person and would always be looking for them if they weren't nearby. She was a good companion for my mom who dealt with a lot of medical issues and needed a constant companion after she retired and while she went through her cancer treatments. Sassy was even able to visit her at the rehab facility while she was there after being hospitalized. At the time my mom was getting better but eventually she took a turn for the worse and my mother never made it home. Telling Sassy that I didn't think my mother would be coming home again was the hardest that I've cried until this last month. Here she is trying to get some of the pureed dinner that they fed my mother. She always wanted everyone's dinner.

After my mom passed away, Sassy quickly became my best friend because she always had one favorite person. Since she never became friends with my dad (unless he was making food he would share) she spent all her time with me. She liked to hang out with me behind me on the couch and because she was such a funny little dog she'd often spend a lot of time matting down the grass. I even took a video at some point:

She was a good companion and was with me almost every day for the last four years. A couple of years ago she went with me to a friend's family's beach house where she got to ride in the basket of a cargo trike and investigate some horseshoe crab shells.

She was a real sweetheart of a dog and I thought she would be with me for longer. She made it to fifteen years old which isn't too bad for a little dog. Despite a few health problems she didn't have to suffer many of the indignities of old age. Unfortunately, she started having trouble breathing one night and despite going to the vet first thing the next morning, she passed away after we got got home, while we were taking a nap. The vet said it was just a little pneumonia but when you're very small then that can be too much, I guess. For now I go to sleep with her little blanket next to me since I got used to her curling up behind my back. I don't know what else to do. I'm not sure I believe in an afterlife but if there is one I know she's with my mother now.

It's weird to write a memorial for a dog since I've lost a few during my life that I considered my best friends and I haven't done it before. However, Sassy was very important to me and her passing is insignificant to the world at large, but is a huge loss for me. It doesn't seem fair that she's gone. I appreciate being able to share some of her life here, because even though you'll never know my little friend you can at least see her cute dog face and witness her life. There are a lot nice memorials in this thread to friends whose loss is felt deeply. I hope to get some closure but am struggling for now. I might add some more pictures or video later but I'm trying to wrap it up and I've had a hard time just looking at the stuff I have. I know I'll have another dog some day and get to spoil a new friend, but for now losing Sassy is a real change of the status quo and the end of an era for me. I'm now in a future where I can't go back and I miss how things were.

I'm coping with some whiskey and this Pallbearer album which makes me feel a little better. Thanks goons.


Apr 3, 2001


That was a beautiful tribute to your friend. Thank you for sharing.

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