we've lost 2 beautiful dogs, a miniture american eskimo, kimo, 19 years old and a 12 year old pomeranian, scotty. i don't have to tell you how hard that was. those of us that have loved a pet know how much it hurts to lose one. i shared a tear with you too.
we have 2 dogs now, KC a pom and Maddie a yorkie. couple of characters. KC is the traveler, we can't leave home without her lol!!
as you've heard already time will help make it easier.
I'm very sorry for your loss , it just brakes your heart when you have to put them down, please rest assured that it was for the best and that your best buddy thanks you for it.............
respectfully, george
Chuck
Wonderful Wife
Lovely German Shepherd.
1999 Mercedes ML320 TV
2003 Wanderer 187TB Toybox (3620# UVW, 4800# loaded) Not yet camped in Hawaii, 2 Canada Provinces, & 2 Territories. I can't be lost because I don't care where this lovely road is going
Thank you all for your kinds words and prayers. Bobo will definitely remain in our hearts and memories. I still feel his presence in the house. Again, thanks for the words of encouragement.
Larry and Brenda
Brenda and Larry - Retired
2005 Georgie Boy Cruise Master LE with 3 slides
Tow a 2006 Ford Focus with 5 speed manual
Larry & Brenda: Prayers and good thought from our family to yours. We too have lost our beloved pets and agree that is truly like losing a member of the family. Please take comfort that Bobo will be waiting for you at the Rainbow Bridge and will be happy and healthy...
Kim & Donna Hale
2003 Itasca Horizon
2004 Jeep Grand Cherokee Toad
Mika & Suki - 2 spoiled pekingese Hook'em Horns
Larry, I'm dreading that day! Thinking about what your going thru is making me cry! Anyone, who is kind to animals is a good friend of mine!! God Bless You for loving and caring for Bobo!!! John
So sorry to hear of your loss. My old Charlie went last week; I wrote this the next day for my friends (and my own therapy). I'm sure anybody who has lost a doggie friend will have many similar memories!
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If you’re not a dog person, you won’t understand how they manage to leave so many footprints all over your heart.
Charlie was 12 years old and disgusting. His kidneys were failing and his teeth were rotten, so his breath smelled permanently of halitosis and urine. God help you if he licked you. We could have grown cabbages in the gunk in his ears. He was riddled with arthritis and had no feeling at all in his hind quarters, so he not only had trouble walking, he also had no control over his bowel. The results would frequently tax the patience of the most loving owner. His bladder wasn’t that well run, either. He would start to pee then begin walking around, still piddling, the result being rear legs permanently soaked in dog urine. Classy. The squiggly stains on the driveway often reminded me of those peeing-in-the-snow jokes (“Yeah, it’s Pierre’s pee but it’s Margaret’s handwriting”). On our recent camping trip, he had a serious 2:00 am diarrhea accident inside the motorhome, which required a great deal of cleaning up and made me extremely grateful that I had thought to take the carpet shampooer with us. It smelled so bad for the next couple of days that when we got the chance we let him lie in Lake Okanagan for half an hour to soak up the pee smell from his legs and the dried crud from his butt. Good plan -- for the next two days the motorhome stopped smelling of dog poop and instead smelled of dog poop and wet dog.
He was deaf, half blind, and as pig-headed as a mule. If he wished to walk Over There, he would start walking. You could shout at him and he would quietly continue on his way muttering “I can’t hear you; I’m deaf”. If you ran after him and grabbed him, he would collapse on the ground and croak “Help, help! I’m being viciously assaulted by my owner! Look at me – I can’t even stand up.” He was covered in lipomas, fatty lumps that are benign but a nuisance. One was in his throat and constricted his breathing, so he would often wheeze like a steam train and convince bystanders that he was about to die on the spot. At home he spent most of the last few years lying asleep, quietly releasing military-grade toxic gases from his nether end.
To compound his woes, he shed like no dog has ever shed before. When he shook, clouds of hair would spin out in all directions like seeds being blown off a dandelion ball. Whenever I have emptied the vacuum cleaner canister in the past couple of years, 90 percent of the contents have been Charlie hair. It formed dust bunnies all over the house. Two days after vacuuming, the house looked as if it had never been cleaned. When I would comb him outside, huge clumps of hair would clog up the comb, and then the driveway would be full of something that looked as if a forest of cotton trees had gone berserk.
Charlie was naturally nervous. In his last few years he took to getting panic attacks. If we were driving in the motorhome and had to negotiate a slightly twisty and/or bumpy road, he’d go off into paroxysms of shaking. The first time this happened we were in the boonies somewhere near Armpit, Wyoming. We found a country vet, explained the problem, and he gave us some mild tranquilizer pills, suggesting that we start Charlie on half a pill and increase the dose if he didn’t respond. I duly popped half a pill down his throat and he fell asleep and woke up 24 hours later. The vet was a horse doctor. In the slight pressure drop that precedes thunderstorms, Charlie would start to shake uncontrollably. As time went by, he started having panic attacks whenever it would rain, regardless of whether or not thunder was likely. There was no consoling him, nothing anybody could do. If we could have found a way to harness his shaking energy, we could have lit up a good sized house.
And yet he was the gentlest, most loving dog that has ever been placed on this earth. In 12 years, I don’t remember ever seeing him show aggression to another living being. One time a few years ago when we were camped by a lake in BC, I was throwing a stick out into the lake for him to retrieve. Between the shore and the fully thrown stick were about 30 ducks. I will never forget the sight of Charlie swimming in a zig-zag pattern to avoid disturbing any ducks, then retrieving the stick and swimming back to shore the same way. “Excuse me... Sorry... I do beg your pardon... Here it is, Dad. Sure hope we didn’t bother any of those nice fat floating birds.”
He was given to me for my birthday in 1995 by the staff at my old company. My wife and son had picked him out at a pet store. We were gathered in the boardroom for the traditional embarrassing singing of Happy Birthday, and this yellow Lab puppy, all legs and big feet, was dumped into my lap. I thought how nice, one of the staff brought his new puppy to work, but when the celebration was over nobody else claimed him and it was explained to me that he was a replacement for my beloved old Holly who had died some months earlier. He became Charlie on the way home, short for Charlton, although I have no idea why I picked that name. He was so insecure that whenever we would go for walks he would follow so close behind me that his jaw would constantly clack against my heels. It was three months or so before he plucked up the courage to venture more than ten feet from me.
His only wish in life was to please people, so he was the easiest dog to train that I have ever had. I think it took fully ten minutes for him to comprehend the idea of “Sit!” and maybe another fifteen to figure out “Stay!” The only command he ever had any trouble with was “Charlie: Stop eating the baseboards.” In the end I figured what the heck, baseboards are easy enough to replace and it’s better than chewing shoes, so he promptly switched his focus to shoes. He and his older ‘sister’ Sandy used to sleep in the garage, in which I had built a dog bed area with a dog door to the run outside. For a few nights he started barking – I never figured out at what. So I bought a dog collar that squirts a cloud of citronella whenever the wearer barks. That night I heard him bark once, then again…. and that is the last time Charlie barked for the next ten years. I should just have rented the collar.
Charlie wasn’t always a smelly old dog. When younger he was healthy and happy, a normal Lab. He and Sandy lived contentedly with my mother-in-law while my wife and I lived in our boat in the Caribbean for two years, and they both loved her dearly. But the day we returned, his eyes lit up, he went a little bit crazy, and promptly relocated to our bed as if we’d never been gone. He always specialized in The Adoring Stare, but in recent months, as he had become ever more senile, the stare had become more and more like a blank now-why-did-I-come-down-to-the-basement look. Taking him to the vet yesterday for The Final Needle was, as always, a horrible decision to make because, like most old sick dogs, he could have gone on for another three, four, or even six months on a diet of ever more pills. Better Living Through Chemistry. But it was obvious he really wasn’t particularly happy most of the time, even though every morning right to the last he would leap up when I walked downstairs, optimistically ask me “Time for a walk then?”, and charge out into the driveway where he would run his weird crow-hop run with wild abandon for, oh, maybe ten feet before stopping and saying phew, that’s hard work. “Now can I come back in please? I need to poop.”
So long, old buddy. The house smells a little better this morning. But, like my heart, it sure is emptier.
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Author unknown...
Dave & Mary
Isabel (a cuddly little Boston)
Buddy (The Beast) another Boston
2005 Itasca Suncruiser 35A
2003 Jeep Liberty
If it's listed in the Yellow Pages, the government shouldn't be messing around with it.
Sorry about your loss. We too lost our rotweiler Tonka and is having a hard time getting another dog. LOL
Allan & Tina Estrella allanestrella@usa.net 2005 34H Fleetwood Expedition Diesel Pusher
FMCA # F356515 2004 Honda Element
Sterling Tow Bar and Brake Master Our RV Blog
As everyone else has said I am so sorry about the loss of your beloved pet. We had to have our 12 year old Schnauzer put down last year. I told DH I could not go through that ever again. Well we now have not one but two Schnauzer pups. They have not replaced our dear Huntley but they have brought such joy to our lives. Time will ease the pain and who knows there may be another little pup needing you to love him/her.
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& Mary 
