This page is just a simple tribute to my friends, and to my
friends who have gone. They have been my most steadfast
companions, always loyal even when human friends have left.
| Butterball |
Butterball 1968-1982. Named because he was the
plumpest pup in his litter, he was half wolf, half
Doberman, a combination that was interesting, to say the
least. Wolves do NOT make good pets, and half-wolves are
little better. He was difficult to housebreak, almost
impossible to train, and strictly a one-man dog. He would
barely take commands from me, and didn't acknowledge the
authority (and sometimes even the existence) of anyone
else. He was also fiercely loyal, and extremely
loving...to me. He died in his sleep, after a long and
interesting life. He was my constant companion, whom no
other dog can replace. |
| Parkway |
Parkway 1984-? So-named because we found him on the
Guadalupe Parkway in South San Francisco, California,
Parkway was only with us for a little while before our
landlord made us give him away. He was a yellow
Labrador/Golden Retriever cross who had the Lab's loyalty
and the Golden's 'bounce'. He went to a home that wasn't
the best, and we wish we had been able to keep him, as he
deserved MUCH better. |
Shasta |
Shasta 1/1/1987-2/4/2002 We found Shasta in a
campground at (where else?) Mount Shasta, California,
running around in the snow, skinny as a rail. There was
no-one else in the campground, or in the area, and she
had many injuries. According to our Vet, she had been hit
by a car, had her back feet broken, and had been caught
in a steel-jawed trap, as attested to by the injury on
her left front leg. How she escaped the trap we'll never
know. Nicknamed 'Irassabella', because she is so
irascible, she is the boss of all the others, despite
being the smallest of all. She has been a dear friend,
and is sleeping now next to my chair as I write this.
Since her buddy Rowdy died last January, she has aged a
lot, and it's easy to see that she misses him. So do I. Added
Monday, 2/4/2002-Shasta had a seizure (her first) on
Saturday, but had recovered yesterday (Sunday), and spent
the day normally, save that she seemed restless. She
visited us each in turn, and sat with each of us for a
time. It seems that she spent the day saying 'goodby'.
She had a second seizure Sunday afternoon, but recovered
from that one faster than from the first. Last night at
about 1am, she woke up and whined loud enough to wake us
up. She had had a massive seizure, and we sat with her
for a while, and sometimes she was there with us, and
sometimes she wasn't. She didn't protest at all on the
trip to the vet. She had a good life, and a long one.
We'll miss her. She's with her buddy Rowdy, now.
|
 |
1987-1998 Rowdy was another 'road-kill candidate',
found along side a country highway at least 10 miles from
the nearest house. When my mother (who was caring for him
at the time) decided she would call him 'Rowdy', I
insisted it was a title, not a name. A coyote-cross
(which is quite common in our area), Rowdy was probably
the most destructive animal God ever created! He ate or
destroyed some 15 piano rolls (fortunately new ones that
could be replaced), and $600 worth of seats out of my
mother's van. Also included in his diet were mattresses,
cardboard, and ANYTHING stuffed with foam rubber. When he
finally grew up, though, he was my constant companion,
the closest thing to Butterball that I've had, and
infinitely NICER. At least Rowdy would tolerate other
people, even if he didn't listen to them. He didn't
listen to ME too well, either. Rowdy's only real problem
was epilepsy, which finally caused massive brain damage,
and caused us to put him down. |
 |
1989-1994 Irish Wolfhounds don't live long, but poor
Rhoda had a shorter life than most. She was my mother's
last dog (they're pictured here, together), becoming mine when Mother passed away in 1992.
She wasn't too well trained, so she fit right in with the
rest. She was a real love, and we were devastated when
she developed osteosarcoma in January of 1994. We had her
left rear leg amputated in an attempt to keep the cancer
from spreading, but by July, it had spread, and had
settled in her skull, causing eye/vision problems. We
decided to put her down to end the pain, but when she had
received the supposedly lethal injection, and her heart
and breathing had stopped, they both suddenly restarted,
and the vet had to give her another shot. She was so
young, I guess she just didn't want to leave. |
 |
b.1996, and found in the middle of a local highway,
Captain was so-named by our daughter, who had just seen
the movie 'Peter Pan', and thought his blustering antics
reminded her of Captain Hook. A few days after finding
him, I noticed that he was very lethargic, an unusual
condition for a pup of 6 or 7 months. A trip to the vet
confirmed that Captain had Parvovirus, a usually fatal
infection. In Captain's case, however, he had been taken
to the vet soon enough to beat the virus, and in the
process, he earned the nickname Captain Parvo. Soon back
to his puppy antics, he earned another nickname,
Bonehead. We think that he is a German
Shepherd/Rottweiler cross, which would make him a
"Rotten Shepherd", and he is very smart.
Perhaps too smart for his own good. He's also very sweet,
making me wonder if ALL dogs can be sweet if they are
raised right. |
 |
b. 5/27/93, Brown Bear (B. B. for short) is the only
dog we have that wasn't a throw-away. She belonged to one
of Margie's co-workers who was re-assigned to England,
and didn't want to put B. B. through a 6-month quarantine
for a 12-month stay. A Labrador/Chow cross (we call her a
'Chowbrador'...), she fit right in with the others as she
looks like a Chow (except for the floppy Lab ears), but
her temperament is pure Lab. Sorry for the poor quality
of the photo, but even with enhancement, black dogs don't
photograph well. Today (02/29/00) is a rather sad day for
us, as we were forced to give B. B. away. She was always
jealous of Shasta's status of Alpha Bitch, and yesterday
she tried to get a promotion by attempting assassination.
Shasta is recovering nicely, but B. B. had to go. |
 |
Peaches 1/1/97-5/.24/08 RIP, sweet girl.
Peaches had been dumped at the vet's office
where Rowdy spent his last 4 days. Folks in our area know
that the vet is too much of a softy to send a stray to
the pound, so she tends to 'collect' animals. When we
went in to visit Rowdy, we were taken by the youngster in
the cage next to his. She was cute, intelligent, and
inquisitive. Sensing that we were just as much softies as
she, the vet offered to let us take Peaches, even
offering to spay her for free if we took her. Obviously
abused by her former people, she has responded well to
kindness, and has become a part of the family. She's
still camera-shy, though. This picture was taken as she
was trying to 'escape' from the camera. After much
deliberation, we've decided that she must be part Beagle,
but she also has the shoulders of a Staffordshire Terrier
or Pit Bull, so we call her a "Pit Beagle".
Peaches went to her rest yesterday, a sweetie to the end.
We'll miss you, sweetheart... |
