Being the huge fan of Oprah that I am (I refer to her to as my fairy godmother to those who are close to me and won’t think I’m cuckoo), I’m signed up for every alert she has under the sun from her magazines to her angels network to her TV show. This alert just came through in my inbox about the new issue of O magazine and within the alert, I read a startling snip about one of her golden retrievers passing. The link to me to the following which can also be found in the August issue of O magazine:
Weeks have passed. And the pain has not subsided. Every time I think about it, my heart starts racing and I feel like I just got stabbed in the chest. It’s a jolt, still. Gracie’s death.
Gracie is the smallest of the golden retrievers photographed with me on O, The Oprah Magazine’s January ‘06 and ‘07 covers. She had just turned 2 on May 21. I thought we’d grow old together.
She choked to death on a plastic ball she found in the grass (it belonged to Sophie, my 12-year-old cocker spaniel). The goldens were not allowed to play with those clear little balls that light up. I feared they’d chew them, or worse.
The worst happened on May 26. Gracie was out with her dog walker, on a walk I often do myself after their evening meal. On this sunny Saturday, having just returned from a late lunch with friends, I decided to let the caretaker do it—walk all three.
I hugged them all goodbye, leaving a lipstick print on Gracie’s furry white forehead, where she loved getting kisses. Twenty minutes later, I got a call: “She’s down and isn’t breathing.”
I ran barefoot out of the house and found the dog walker and one of my security guys pumping her chest. Just as I reached them, the security guy looked up and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. We tried everything. I’m sorry. She’s gone.”
Gone??!! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Yes, I saw it. I saw the caretaker rocking back and forth on the ground, his arms wrapped around himself, crying hysterically. My brain took in the whole scene, but it wasn’t tracking properly. The first thing I remember saying is, “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Tell me what happened.” Through his sobs I heard: “…choked on a ball.”
And I knew, this was real. Gracie is gone, Gracie is gone, Gracie is gone kept repeating in my head.
I stood there dazed, stunned, crying—and watched as they placed her in the back of a golf cart, her still-warm body with the lipstick stain on her fur.
But even in my stunned state, I knew this was not what it appeared to be: a freak accident with a clear plastic ball that lit up inside. I don’t believe in accidents. I know for sure that everything in life happens to help us live.
So through my tears and stabbing pain and disbelief and wonder and questions about how and why this happened, I leaned over my sweet and wild and curious and mind-of-her-own Gracie, and asked, “Dear Gracie, what were you here to teach me that only your death could show me?” And this is the answer: This lovely little runt whom I’d brought home sick—on his first visit with her, the vet told me to return her and get my money back—did more living in two years than most dogs do in 12. She never stopped moving. Was energy in motion. Chasing squirrels, hop-leaping through the pond like a rabbit. Finding anything she could to play with, chew, run with. Dashing, frolicking. Speeding across the lawn as though she were in a rush for life. I was always saying, “Gracie, slow down.” She gulped her food. Gulped treats. Would let you hug her for a second, then race off to—where? She was the only dog I was always looking for. Going out on the porch calling, “Graaaacie! Gracie, come!”
The day after she died, I went to the spot where she took her last breath and called again, “Graaaacie! Graaaacie!” I was hoping security wouldn’t hear me and think I needed medical—or psychological—attention. Of course I knew this time she wouldn’t come running through the brush. Out of the pond. Shaking her wet fur and racing to my arms with a smile. She was always, always smiling.
Not until I knew there’d be no response did I realize how much pleasure I had taken in calling for her. So I called and cried. Called and cried. “Graaaacie!” Tears of sadness for the shocking loss. Tears of joy for the pure happiness she’d given me for nearly two years. I have never seen a being, human or animal, always so full of joy. This dog lived every moment as though it were her last.
Her life was a gift to me. Her death, a greater one.
Ten days before she died, I was getting a yearly physical, and to lower my blood pressure I’d think of Gracie’s smiling face.
Just days before the “freak accident,” the head of my company came into my office to have a serious talk about “taking some things off your schedule—you’re doing too much.” Maya Angelou called me to say the same thing. “You’re doing too much. Don’t make me come to Chicago,” she chided. “I want you to slow down.”
I’d broken a cardinal rule: The whole month of May I’d had no day off, dashing from one event to the next. But though I appreciated everyone’s concern, I still had to finish the season. Wrap up the year’s shows. Have foundation meetings. Meet with auditors. Review plans for a new building, and on and on. So many people on my list. I literally forgot to put myself on the list for a follow-up checkup.
When the doctor’s office called, I confessed. I hadn’t heeded what I know for sure. I said, “Doctor, I’m sorry. I had so many meetings with different people, I forgot to put myself on the list.”
The next day, Gracie died.
Slow down, you’re moving too fast. I got the message.
Thank you for being my saving Gracie. I now know for sure angels come in all forms.
My heart goes out to Oprah and her furry family. Mourning the death of a pet might seem trivial or even silly to some, but to those of us who truly know the gift of loving an animal and being loved back, it’s far from it. Reading this story about Gracie just reminded me to take a breather. To stop being a slave to this site that I pour so much of myself into and go play Scrabble with my kids on this rainy day 
Have you lost a pet before? Tell us about him or her and what you learned from having them in your life.
The article on Oprah’s beloved “Gracie” was so very sad, and it was emotionally painful for me to read. The helplessness and pain of lossing such a bundle of joy “Gracie” I’m sure was overwelming for Ms. Winphrey. For those that can not connect to the loss of an animal may feel that it was just a dog. I respectfully say to those that, I myself didn’t know how to show or give love to any human being, and one day I met a dog named “Baxter”. He filled my heart with compassion, love and joy. From that time forward, my life has never been the same. Baxter taught me how to give of myself, love unconditionally and how to focus on the better things in life and Baxter was one of the “betters”. To those of you that have loss your little friends, I need to say, I feel your pain and I am truely sorry to hear of your loss.
Sincerely,
Laura from Irvine, Ca.
July 18th, 2007 at 2:55 pmI lost my sweet Basil just a few months ago. The gardeners left the side gate open and Basil wandered out into the street, he was most likely trying to get to the inner circle where I took him to use the bathroom. He loved the little purple flowers that littered the ground. He never made it and the worst part is the person who hit him never stopped. He was dragged about 20 feet. I luckily did not find him that way. My neighbor did who was out walking her dog and heard the car screeching down the street. He was four years old, a shih-tzu and such a ham. He loved to play hide-and-seek. He really did, people through I was just a fanatic about my dog and made this up until they saw it. He cracked me up daily. I’d come home after having a bad day and instantly I’d be laughing. He never expected anything more from me except love and I willingly gave it because he gave me so much more.
July 18th, 2007 at 3:23 pmHello Dog Lovers, Just wanted to say that our thoughts and prayers are with Oprah and her entire family.. I’m on a mission to find out exactly what kind of “clear ball that lights up” that Gracie found in the grass.. I moderate our Breeder Forum for our Goldendoodle Owners and all of us are dying to find out what kind of ball it was to “spread the news” so that everyone is informed.. Poor Gracie.. Our hearts are so sad…. ;(
July 19th, 2007 at 5:36 amHopefully we can figure out what the name of the ball is and throw them away if we happen to have one already!
With heavy hearts, we know Gracie is in heaven looking down on all of her brothers and sisters, but I know it doesn’t ease Oprah’s pain, only faith and time will do that…..
I’ve never lost a pet (yet) but when I lost my wife four years ago, I inherited her German shepherd Casey. I assumed that someone who loved my wife and loved dogs would have taken Casey with them since I was far from a dog lover. No one did. I suppose adopting an 80 lb dog was just as unappealing to them as it was to me to have to keep him.
July 19th, 2007 at 6:15 amI never bothered much with Casey when my wife was alive and he never bothered much with me. My wife had found him in a box next to a dollar store when he was just a puppy and brought him home happy, excited and feeling like a good Samaritan. My reply was “why here? Why not take him a dog shelter?” “Because he’ll be killed if he doesn’t get a home” was my wife’s reply. I shrugged my shoulders. It still didn’t seem like a good reason to bring him home to OUR house. Nevertheless, he stayed. He stayed and he grew. He grew and he chewed (including the edge of my recliner so much that I had to put duct tape on it to keep the stuffing from springing out from the inside leaving me with just a pile of fabric.) He chewed and he pretty much left me alone. I think he could tell that I didn’t really care for him and would only feed him on the rare occasions when my wife was out of town.
And then she got sick. Always on the go and a whirlwind of activity, she took to her bed, ridden with cancer. Casey took to the side of her bed, as I did. I was on one side he was on the other. When she hobbled to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I sat up looking after her muddled figure in the darkness, “are you ok?” I’d shout out half asleep. She’d wave her hand in the air and I’d lay back down the sound of Casey’s paws on the hardwood floor going after her.
The day my wife died and the ambulance drove off with her, I grabbed my keys to follow and Casey stood by the door, I had more pressing things on my mind than to notice that he missed her just as much as I did. I left the house and barely remembered to call my neighbor the next day to feed him. I had forgotten and he most likely had sat by the edge of my wife’s bed wondering where she was.
In the next few days after the house was empty from her laughter, her smile, her little jumps of happiness that she did when she was excited. I still didn’t choice that Casey was in mourning just as I was. I pushed the food around on my place, the food that was stacked high in the kitchen from neighbors, friends, friends of my wife I never even knew, co-workers… I pushed the plate barely able to stand the smell and Casey barely ate the food in his bowl. I sat up late at night watching movies I never knew existed unable to sleep and Casey paced the hallway often times pausing to look out the window. I imagine, looking for her.
It wasn’t until my brother came home again to visit a couple of weeks after the funeral when he said out loud, “Casey’s going to wind up dead soon if he doesn’t eat, I think he’s depressed.”
Depressed? A dog depressed? “Come on”, I thought, his grief can’t match my own I knew for sure but I started to look at Casey after that. Really look at him. And he was. The once lively dog that would sniff for crumbs even after having a hearty meal, barely finished his food. The dog that bounded towards the door sliding and slipping on the hardwood planks just barely raised his head now when the bell rang and when it wasn’t her, when it wasn’t his master, he laid his head back down, often turning his head the other way. He still slept on the side of my wife’s bed in face, he rarely left that side now. Why hadn’t I seen it before?
I tried to coax Casey to my side that night but he stubbornly refused. I tried the next night and he gave me a half-hearted glance. The third night, I slept on my wife’s side of the bed, my hand dangling on the side, waiting for some kind of thanks from Casey, a lick on the fingers like he would do to my wife. He got up and left! That’s right, the dog left and moved to the foot of the bed! The dog that I never really gave two thoughts of before, I was suddenly very aware that he was one of the last links to my wife and I become quite consumed with being his friend.
Four years later, Casey and I are quite the duo. “Up Casey!” I can say just like my wife did and Casey will bound up and into the back of the car. When I put the key in the lock, I hear Casey bounding towards the door, just as he would when my wife would return from work. When I’m in the garden tending to my wife’s tulip bed, a low growl will emit from Casey at times when a delivery truck pulls into the front of our house. “Now now Casey” I say, just like my wife used to and Casey will immediately quiet.
I don’t think for a second that I have taken the place of my wife for Casey, just as he hasn’t for me but there is an unspoken bond and love for the same person that meant to so much to the both of us I would have never imagined could existed between me and another animal. Ever and yet it does and it was never more real when 6m ago a bump on the side of Casey’s nose protruded. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer Cancer. Cancer. That dreaded word that took my wife was now living in her dog. Our dog. My dog. Not again I thought, not now. And it wasn’t his time to go thankfully because the surgery went well, the cancer was caught, it was less than they thought. Of course it was. Casey has an angel. A really smart angel which made me think of the one thing my wife said when she brought Casey home and after a few days of her coaxing me to play with him I told her in no uncertain terms would I ever be that dog’s friend. “Oh yes you will she said, you’ll be great friends, if it’s the last thing I do, you guys will love each other.
She was right. And at night, on my side of the bed, Casey sleeps and licks my fingers during the night.
Three years ago, I had two dogs: Sugar and Jett (both were shelter dogs). I lost them both tragically, a year apart.
I completely know what it is to (tragically) lose a BELOVED “angel dog”.
Three years ago, I lost my beloved 14 yr old, ‘Sugar’, to a freak accident. It was a Sunday, and we’d left the house for 4 hours. Sugar couldn’t see very well for her cataracts were advanced; and she was almost completely deaf. Not sure how, but apparently shortly after we left the house, she somehow got her head stuck in a small hole in my bedroom sheer/curtain.
My daughter arrived at our house shortly before us and called me, saying, ‘Mom, Sugar’s dead, I think she hung herself!’
She had indeed. I’m grateful I hadn’t viewed her hanging there—it would’ve been forever burned in my brain.
This is the weirdest part; the ONLY thing on my bed was a pair of scissors, with a pink ribbon tied to the handle. As my daughter’s boyfriend knelt down near Sugar and surmised how to get Sugar off the curtain, he repeatedly/calmly asked my daughter for some scissors. Finally he told my daughter …’I need you to pick up the scissors from the bed, and give them to me’. Naturally she was paralyzed with shock at the view. We never got the chance to kiss her goodbye. She was such a sweet love.
The second tragic dog loss was almost a year later. My beloved Jett…my ’sweet Jumbo Jett’, my JJ. He was about 5 years old and was part min-pin/chihuahua. I loved him SOOOOO much.
Jett was a little feisty dog, but very much a cuddle bug.:
The dogs next door were neglected and never walked and often begged for water as I watered my gardens. So, I would water them thru the underside of the fence holes that their dogs would scratch. I would move over the big rocks we’d placed there so their PitBull mix and German Shephards wouldn’t hurt my little Jett.
I still feel responsible, but once, after feeding the neighbor dogs water, I forgot to put the big rock back which blocks the big hole at the base of the fence. It haunts me to this day.
At 8am on a Sunday morning, I had let Jett out along with my daughter’s dog for their potty time. Very soon afterwards, I went back to bed, but within 10 minutes or so, I heard my daughter’s dog barking ‘differently’. I shot out of bed and came to the back door to find my Jett’s body on MY side of the fence, at the spot where the big rock should have been replaced…. but, his little head was on the other side of the fence, locked inside the jaws of the pit-bull mix!!!
I repeatedly screamed as I held Jett’s little body…’LET GO OF MY DOG!!!!’
That dog finally disengaged Jett. Because he was in excruciating pain and bleeding so, I was a mess, and we were at the vet within 30 minutes. The damage was so extensive that it was the humane thing for us to have him euthanized. I cried like a baby after I kissed him goodbye…the sad look in his eyes…so, so sad.
BTW, the neighbor had their dog picked up that morning by 11am, and euthanized as a result, plus they paid half our vet bill. It’s funny, because in my trying to HELP their dogs by watering them, I lost my little angel Jett.
I am an optimist and a firm believer of, “out of every bad thing comes a good”. My husband told his office mates about the loss of my Jett. A lady overheard him and said she had a dog they needed to find a new home for. So hubby sought to console me with this puppy. (Doxie). I was resistant the first day this little 8-week old was in our home. I wasn’t ready emotionally. It was unlike me and I outright rejected her at first. I told him I couldn’t take losing another dog!
By the next day, I was in love with PHOEBE. That little puppy found a spot in my heart. She is THE MOST UNBELIEVABLY WONDERFUL DOG—EVER. “Phoebe” just turned two this month and I love her like Oprah loved Gracie. She is an AMAZINGLY UNIQUE AND PHENOMENAL DOG. We are connected, the 3 of us.
That’s why I balled my eyes out with the news of Oprah’s lovedog Gracie, and with Derek’s story about Casey.
I love DOGGIES so much. My husband is in love with this doggie like he has never ever been before.
July 20th, 2007 at 12:04 amDogs absolutely increase the quality of human life! They are valuable.
It’s a very sad story.
And when Oprah is ready, I think she could honor Gracie’s memory by adopting a shelter dog.
She could change the world that way.
July 21st, 2007 at 8:43 pmI’m sitting hear crying my eyes out over the stories of Derek, Eva, Oprah and the others who have loved and lost. Derek, I’m happy to hear that you and Casey are best friends now.
and a big hug!!!
July 21st, 2007 at 8:45 pmI lost my first dog Lobo in Feb 1990 (14 1/2 yrs old) but when I think about how much I loved him and miss him, it still brings sadness and tears. I raised him from 6 wks to the very end when we had to put him down as an old dog. He was my first “baby”. We’ve lived lots of life together in those 14+ years. I’ve never had children, just dogs. To me, they are my kids. That same year Lobo died, in May 1990, my ex-boyfriend’s dog had 11 puppies. He found homes for all but one. He asked if I wanted to come see him. At first, I didn’t want to because the pain of losing Lobo was too great but I agreed. Here was this beautiful little 8 week old black Lab-mix and he had so much spunk that I fell instantly in love with him; I named him Max. Max was the next love of my life. One day in April 2001, 10 year old Max just wasn’t himself. He wouldn’t eat the treats that he LOVED and when I took him for a walk (another thing he loved to do) he could barely make it down the block and would just stop. We made it back to my apartment. Max couldn’t make it all the way up the stairs to my 2nd floor apt. I had to carry him the rest of the way (60 lbs). I knew then something was wrong. The next morning, I took him to the vet. The vet said that Max’s body was “lycing” his red blood cells. I didn’t know what that meant and the doctor said Max’s body was destroying his red blood cells so he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. The vet said to leave him at the pet hospital and they would treat him. They gave him a blood transfusion but it didn’t work. I would visit Max every evening and he wasn’t getting any better. Within 3 days Max died. I wish I could have been with him but he died in the middle of the night. I feel bad because he was alone. I still miss Max and will always love Lobo and Max. I know exactly what Oprah and all of you who have lost are going through.
I told myself I was never going to get another dog again because the pain is too great when we lose them. I lived alone for nearly 4 years, but on my birthday in 2005, my sister convinced me to go to the Humane Society and adopt another puppy. When I walked into the puppy room and saw another black Lab-mix, I said “MINE”. I immediately adopted Max II. He is sitting right by my side right now. I love him just as much as my first 2 loves. I don’t look forward to that fateful day when I have to say goodbye but in the meantime, I will love him with all my heart and soul and enjoy each and every moment with him. Take care all, thanks for sharing, your thoughts about your loved ones and for taking the time to read mine. I think it’s time for Max’s walk!
I’m an only child and it would have been a really lonely time for me if I didn’t have my little Beagle Chauncey growing up. He was literally my best friend. He waited for me when I came home from school, watched cartoons with me on Saturday mornings, ran down to the creek behind our house on Sundays after church. I was a military brat and we were always moving but I never had to worry about making friends because of Chauncey. He died when he was 8 and I was 16 and I’ve never had a dog since, too scared to get that attached again but what I did learn was, friends don’t come in two legs and skin. They can come balled up in fur, drool, wagging tongues and tails and whole lot of love to give.
July 23rd, 2007 at 10:51 amThis story had tears rolling down my cheeks - it should have a warning not to read it at work! Those of us who have lost an animal can certainly identify with what Oprah was feeling, and it makes it so much harder that she was so young and full of life, it wasn’t ever expected. I think I read this for a reason, I need to go home and hug my dogs, and appreciate them every day, because it really could be their last.
July 23rd, 2007 at 1:25 pmHi Oprah: I watch today show about loving your dog (animal) and boy can I relate on loving your pet. Last Oct. 25, my black lab suddenly feel off my bed and had a sezure. I was a reck, he sezed for about 15 minutes and ran to call my neighbor. I was so upset, I called 911 and had a squad car come to my home and we followed him to our emergency vet hospital. Well, he was released the next day, with a careful watch and meds for a diagnose that had to be probably a brain situation. The next day I took “Mustang” to his doctor and he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. We took the necessary steps, took him home and day by day I watched him go down hill. He had no appetite, couldn’t go to the bathroom, all he could do was look at me and say, Mommie–let me go, I cried every minute of the day. It was hard for me to do my job–I would come home for lunch put a towel under him–and cry with love to him and say” come on old man–let’s go out. Finally Mustang said, mommie it’s time. I listened to him, crying like mad, and took him to be put down. He is in doogie heaven down, sits in an ern on top of my china closet. I look at him every day –& tell him how much he is missed. “My now baby is a rescue as well as he was, she came from Katrina & her name is PEaches and Cream. I love her to death, I call her my girlfriend. We take her all over, and I can’t stop kisses and loving her.
August 16th, 2007 at 5:21 pmI am very sorry about your Gracie, Oprah, we are good people, and our dogs will always look at us, (no matter where they are and say, Thank you mommie for taking care of me.
Thank you oprah I laughed and cried today, but we have our wonderful dogs to bring a smile on our faces. God Bless….
It has now been 3 months since I lost my beloved cattle dog, Scooter. He was 13 and sadly, when we took him into an emergency veterinary clinic after he threw up, they were dishonest with us.
November 25th, 2007 at 3:39 amNever did they alert us to the gravity of his situation. They called his condition “guarded” and then suggested test after test after test. In the end, we were charged a $12,000 for a 2 day stay, a bill in which my family will be paying off to the credit card company for a year. Many of these tests were painful and this dog deserved a better death. It was only after our own vet intervened and called this clinic for the medical information that we learned the sad truth that our darling dog was dying. We then made the difficult decision to have him put down and when I think of the last time he looked up at me, my heart breaks into a million pieces. Those eyes..those beautiful brown eyes. Of all the members of my family, I’ve had the most difficult time with his death. Many mornings have been spent crying as I’ve gotten myself ready for work with the pain so deep within. Recently, a friend told me about Oprah’s loss of Gracie I then began to reflect back on my years with Scooter. When he came into our home, it wasn’t a fairy tale beginning. He was a cattle dog, a breed I knew nothing about. When I answered the ad in the paper and saw this little spotted bundle of fur, I thought that I didn’t need to know any more. NOT TRUE! Shortly afterwards, this dog started to exhibit behavior that shocked me. He wouldn’t let my 3 year old son pass him when he was on his tricyle and would actually “herd him.” He was agressive with other dogs, he wasn’t good around children other than our son and hostile to anyone he didn’t know. Friends and family told to us to “get rid of that dog” but my son had clearly bonded with him and I didn’t want our little boy to learn the lesson that you get rid of a dog (or people for that matter) because they’re difficult. So, we made the decision to stay committed to Scooter but for the first 2 years, I tolerated him at best. I kept regretting that he wasn’t a lovable lab type and often questioned our decision to keep him. During that time, I’d also gone through several vets. When any vet would approach with Scooter next to me, he would growl and snap. I was always apologizing and when one vet made it obvious to me to “not bring that dog of yours back” I was FRUSTRATED because I needed a veternarian. A friend suggested a vet she liked and when Scooter and I went for the appointment, true to form, as the vet approached, the growling and snapping started. Once again, I apologized as I’d been doing a lot of, then this wonderful vet said, “That’s alright. He’s protecting you. He sees me as a threat to you. He’s just being who he is.” From that moment on, I knew I’d found the right vet and he remained Scooter’s doctor until the end. It was he who called the emergency clinic and told us it was time to let him go. When I left the vet’s office that day, I remembered what he’d said. Scooter was protecting ME? Why? I didn’t interact much with the dog. I showed little affection towards him,. Yet, he was willing to put himself in possible danger for what he perceived as a threat against me. I also recalled, “He’s just being who he is.” As I took Scoter for a walk that same day , I reached a turning point. This dog that almost flunked puppy kindergarten, this dog that pulled furiously on his leash at break neck speed, this rough and tumble cattle dog who had ended up with a family in suburbia, who would never be sweet and docile was a dog that I was going to accept for who he was, not for who he wasn’t and in that acceptance I would open myelf up to the good qualities he brought to our home. And so, as the years passed I (and my family) began to work with Scooter for who he was. I immediately crossed the street when walking him if other dogs or children were approaching. I was vigilent in making sure he was separated when
strangers or little kids were in our home. We all worked hard to exercise this highly energetic dog as much as possible (although this was often difficult with 2 busy working adults and young child). And what did we get in return? A dog who
returned love for us in spades. He’d follow us around the house, plop himself right in the middle of where we were and roll over to be loved. You simply couldn’t have a bad day when coming home as he greeted you with a wagging tail at the door. When we’d leave on vacation, he wouldn’t eat for days and would smother us with
“kisses” when we returned. He was a wonderful watchdog. When many neighbors were buying expensive alarm systems, we joked that we didn’t need one because we had Scooter. Being a nature lover, I enjoy exploring some natutal areas. Because I knew that Scooter would protect me with his life, this allowed me to walk in areas I never would have gone alone. He brought a richness to each of my family’s life and escpecially to me because in a certain sense, he was my dog. I was his main caretaker but he seemed to take care of me,. When going through the ups and downs of life, his unconditonal love
helped me to get through. Embracing Scooter,
holding him in my arms always centered me.
The house is emptier now without him. In my
grief, I feel emptier. But through it, I am remebering what this cattle dog taught me—
to accept others for who they are not for who you want them to be. If you can truly do this, you will see what good they bring with them and He also taught me to not give up on someone (or 4 legged creature) because they are difficult. I also learned that love can be found in the most unexpected places, For me, it was in the form of black spotted, rough, cattle dog. It’s hard for me to think of getting another dog but I know I will when the grief has passed. I also know that I’ll be opening myself to the pain of loss again. But then there’s the love, the happiness, the lessons this new dog will bring to my life. I owe it to open my “home” to honor the dog I just lost, a dog who taught me much about love and life. A truly good dog, named Scooter.
Yes, it is very sad to lose a dog. I lost my beloved seven year old beagle, Bailey, January, 2007 to lymphoma. She was diagnosed April 2005 . I was told chemo. could extend her life for another year. Five days after I was given the devastating news a story was appeared on the front page of the Seattle Times about a golden retriever, Comet, who had underwent a stem cell transplant the previous year. He was cancer free–going on five mile daily runs with his owner. The veterinarian, Dr. Edmund Sullivan, who performed the procedure was located eighty miles away The procedure was costly, and I would need to locate Bailey’s family members with the hope of finding a match. I am a teacher (not wealthy), but my daughter who was saving for a house agreed to lend me the money. Because we got Bailey from an AKC breeder I was hopeful that I would be able to find Bailey a donor match. However, due to poor record keeping, misinformation, and dogs changing owners it took me over a year to locate Baily’s mother (she was in Nebraska), five siblings, and five half siblings. I hired a private detective twice, and persuaded three TV stations, and two newspapers to help me with my search. In the end, only one brother, Clifford, was a match. She had her transplant April 2006. The procedure was filmed by two local TV stations and shown on CNN as well. Unfortunately, Clifford proved to be too close of a match, and Bailey relapsed five months later. Clifford spent some time at our house as a guest–they were so much a like that it was hard to believe they had been apart for six years–they were inseparable! We grew to love Clifford and him us. In Dec of 2006 Bailey had another ground breaking procedure, a donor lymphocyte infusion (DLI) from Clifford after he had been given a series of tumor vaccine injections. This procedure had not yet been approved by the FDA for people but our veterinarian had consulted many veterinarians as well as medical doctors–the procedure looked sound. I took Bailey up to the clinic, where she would spend the last two weeks of her life on Jan. 2nd–her eyes didn’t look right. Testing showed her blood values were not good. On the 14th I went for a visit and took her on a walk in the park. She was so glad to be in my car. I think she thought she was going home! She looked and acted like her old self. The next day I received word that her kidneys were failing. On Tuesday a British photographer, journalist Lucy Laing’s, husband came to do a story on her. I invited Comet, Dr. Sullivan’s first transplant dog to come. Bailey looked bad, but later that evening I got a call from Dr. Sullivan saying that though he was worried about her kidneys her blood values were going up. The next morning at 6:15 I received the phone call I was dreading most, my Serendipitous Bailey Girl was dead. Two months later tainted pet food was recalled–food that Bailey had eaten. Though testing was inconclusive, I will always wonder since tests indicated that her immune system was rebuilding from the DLI. Kidney failure is what killed her, and there was not another dog who had gone what she had. I thought Bailey lasted for the journalist, but because she died, only Comet was written about. Shortly before Bailey died I had the word serendipity tattooed with a forget-me-not on my wrist. Bailey will be with me in my heart as well forever! She has her own website www.bailey.com with her story, photos, press releases, and a blog. I am in the process of writing a book about her and Comet for children–any profit will go to Dr. Sullivan’s efforts in making transplants fro pets affordable, easier to perform, and successful. A donor registry needs to be put in place for pets like they have for people–many pet owners do not have the luxury of knowing where their dog’s family members are. I have an after school art class for students at my school who are drawing their favorite pets in oil pastel, then the quilt squares are treated in a water/paint solution which makes them look like fabric, and then the squares are fashioned into beautiful quilt wall hangings. We are sending them to those organizations and people whom I feel could promote the work Dr. Sullivan is doing. Dogs were used in research to give people the life saving technology, bone marrow stem cell transplants. The dogs were then forgotten! In Bailey’s memory I have vowed to help save other pets from lymphoma, the third most common kind of cancer in dogs, along with other fatal cancers and illnesses as well. Dr. Sullivan’s first transplant dog, Comet, has enjoyed four years of being cancer free, and his third transplant dog, Annabelle, is cancer free as well.
Cathy von Haartman
February 8th, 2008 at 11:04 pmThe previous email lists the incorrect web address. It should be www.savebailey.com. Sorry for any confusion.
Cathy von Haartman
February 10th, 2008 at 12:11 amI just lost my dog yesterday. I’ll never forget when I first saw him sitting in the cage at the recycling center in my town. That’s where they kept the stray dogs awaiting adoption. He was a older dog, bad cataract in his eyes but a beautiful lab/ newfoundland mix. I wasn’t really ready to adopt a dog, but he was sitting there in the cage- tail wagging for a few months. I decided “I have to give that nice dog a home.” I named him Jake, he was a little goofy but handsome with a wide butt and big shaggy coat. That dog brought me so much joy for the next 6 years. We were inseparable, taking walks in the snow, going to Cape Cod. Watching him splash in the water brought a smile to my face. He would follow me from room to room, he was so devoted and loyal. Yesterday I made the painful decision to have him euthanized. He was sick and in pain from a cancerous tumor in his belly. I am so sad, there will never be another dog like Jake.
February 27th, 2008 at 11:32 amI lost a black cocker spaniel named Dixie when I was about 8 years old. She was the love of my life. My parent gave her to a woman named Mrs Mickey because I had asthma. I will always remember being upstairs in my bedroom and watching Mrs Mickey take my dog. I never cried. Later on I asked my parents how my dog was and they told me that she died in a fire. I didn’t cry. Later on, when I was an adult I was in an obedience with my current dog and there was a dog in the class named Dixie. I cried all the way home but didn’t know why. I was working with a woman named Mickey and the woman in the Condo next to me would always be burning candles. I started to panic and asked the neighbors if they would take my key and get my dogs out of my condo if there was a fire. Then I came to terms with my loss of my dog Dixie. It all hit me. I couldn’t express myself as a child. No one cared about my feelings and the love I had for my dog. I cried and cried and cried for days. I have two dogs now and would have 4 if I could afford it. I feel sad for Oprah and the loss of her beloved Sophie and also Gracie. However, All Dogs Go To Heaven! and we will be with them again one day! patti
April 21st, 2008 at 5:09 pmI lost my 12 yr old minature schnauzer mix on June 24, 2008. He was 12 and even though he had gotten older and fought diabetes and cushings desease bravely. Never objecting to the last two years of insulin injections. His friend, a basset hound named Abby 13 years old is in mourning too. The day she got sick I had several appointments and hardly noticed she wasn’t herself until it was 10 minutes past taking him to his regular vet. I panicked and realized that he might be having a reaction to the medication he was taking for the cushings. Wasn’t I warned to watch for signs of too low of adrenaline? All I could do was keep repeating to the overworked emergency vet to give him prednisone. I had to have him taken to the back. They reassured me he didn’t look that bad. A 6 am call from the ER was to tell me he had passed. Only then when they told me what he had gone through during the night did I realize it was his pancreas that had bothered him when he was younger. I took him to the vet too late, managed to give the vet a wrong diagnosis and forgot to mention his pancreas. I wasn’t with him when he went. My heart is broken and I am so diappointed with myself Reading Oprah’s story, I feel somewhat better now. Charlie’s death has made me appreciate every minute I spend with my real family and pet family. He gave me so much love and memories. Now I am just wondering whether I should find another older dog to keep my basset hound company when I have to leave. She seems to sad. I too believe there has to be a heaven for all the creatures that show us so much love and take us through the hard times in life
July 9th, 2008 at 11:34 pm