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Thanks for the Dance - Tributes/Condolences

188K views 172 replies 117 participants last post by  paul young 
#1 · (Edited)
There are times that we all have or will face with our beloved retrievers that causes our hearts to ache with the pain of loss. Many who have not shared this special bond with a dog won't understand why we grieve as if we have lost a child, a best friend, a dearest companion. But those of us who have experienced this pain do understand.

If you have a favorite tribute or condolence poem that has brought comfort to you, please share it with us.

Vicky
 
#109 · (Edited)
Hannah, I am sorry we didn't go out on a walk in the woods last weekend. I had no idea you were sick. When you were acting lethargic Monday evening we just assumed you had eaten something you shouldn't have. On Tuesday morning you couldn't walk. By Tuesday afternoon you were gone. Only 7 years old......WAY too soon.

You had more talent than I knew what to so with. All of the successes you had we're directly attributable to you. All the issues you had were directly my fault.

The house is too quiet without you. The chair in my office doesn't seem right without you in it. The spot next to me on the couch is too cold without you.

You will be missed but not forgotten, friend.

 
#110 ·
The Bowl

So there it sits...mocking me. Tears roll down my face and I think..."It's only a THING! An object! " Yet my tears, they do not stop.

I look at this ceramic object and reflect...

How often did I fill it? ....Not nearly often enough. I could have continued to happily fill it for years to come.

How many times did I clean it? ....I'd gladly do it, even one more time.

How often did it cause you happiness, when I picked it up? What I wouldn't give to see you dance for joy because THIS signaled one of your favorite times of the day!

How sad it is...to see a dog dish that has outlived it's owner.

....with a heavy heart, and tears that continue to stream down my face, I pick it up, and gently tuck it away...forever.
 
#112 ·
One year today - On April 25th, 2012, at just 7 years young, Bonus (CH LegaSea’s Icing on the Cake, JH) drew his last breath in my arms and I felt my heart stop and my own breath leave me…

I borrow these words that were written by a writer for the Portland Oregonian, Ben Hur Lampman; to honor another great dog, a dog some of you may or may not remember – King Buck. While at first glance King Buck and Bonus may appear to have nothing in common – King Buck being a National Field Champion – “…one of the great ones” and never during King Buck’s lifetime “… did he posture, pose or give the slightest indication of public awareness. Flooded timber with wild ducks and wild duck-shooting is when King Buck came typically to life.” Bonus on the other hand was indeed a ham; loving the spotlight and coming to life in the show ring, sure that all who came that day were there to see him and him alone; as one renowned handler once told me “That dog thinks he owns the ring!” However, when Bonus encountered his first duck, he displayed such wild abandonment and joy that his short lived career in hunt tests was as rewarding to me as his career as a show boy!
I believe that Ben Hur Lampman wrote these words to honor every great dog whose master will never forget them for he knows “the place where dogs such as Buck are really buried.” and so I borrow them to bring me comfort …


". . . For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, laughing, begging, it matters not where that dog sleeps. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees are roaring or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained and nothing lost – if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog.
If you bury him in this spot, he will come to you when you call – come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they shall not growl at him nor resent his coming, for he belongs there.


People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who bear no whimper, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them.
The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master."


In Loving Memory:
CH LegaSea’s Icing on the Cake JH (“Bonus”)
October 23, 2004 – April 25, 2012
Rest in peace sweet Bonus, come down the well remembered path to my side again and again.
 
#113 ·
MAY I GO?
by Susan A. Jackson

May I go now?
Do you think the time is right?
May I say good-bye to pain-filled days
and endless lonely nights?I've lived my life and done my best,
an example tried to be.
So can I take that step beyond
and set my spirit free?
I didn't want to go at first,
I fought with all my might.
But something seems to draw me now
to a warm and loving light.
I want to go. I really do.
It's difficult to stay.
But I will try as best I can
to live just one more day.
To give you time to care for me
and share your love and fears.
I know you're sad and afraid,
because I see your tears.
I'll not be far, I promise that,
and hope you'll always know
that my spirit will be close to you
wherever you may go.
Thank you so for loving me.
You know I love you, too.
That's why it's hard to say good-bye
and end this life with you.
So hold me now just one more time
and let me hear you say,
because you care so much for me,
you'll let me go today.


 
#114 ·
Love this cartoon...missing my old man today...

 
#115 ·
She wasnt a water dog but a great one none the less and she was my best ever.

R.I.P. Chloe the Jack Russell Oct 10th 1994 - June 8th 2012

Chloe was a great friend and hunter, she was always on patrol for 17 years she chased small game while hunting and kept our property rodent free, she met me at the gate everyday up until her last day, she was great with my daughter never being aggressive no matter how she was dressed up or made to dance, She was my best dog ever and I've had some really good ones....... Clovis the Puparovis I sure do miss you!!!!
 

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#117 ·
The ***STAR*** (c)Doug Coulter 7/96 "All Rights Reserved"

I just saw this on an obedience email list I am on. I'm fortunate that today is not the day for me - yet. My 15 yr old Jewel is slowing down but as of this day, hour, minute, second all is well in the Knapp family. I just felt someone else may be in need of this. If today is your day of "need", I am sorry for your loss.


The ***STAR*** (c)Doug Coulter 7/96 "All Rights Reserved"

I have used the star three times in my life and it has worked all three times.

I used it when my parents died and in July of l996 when I lost my Golden Retriever Tammy.

Part of the blood that flows through my body is Native American,and the Star was told to me years ago by a wise old lady.

I have felt the pain first hand of loosing a Golden and feel I must share the Star with other Golden owners in their time of need.

When someone leaves this earth they must take a very long and lonely journey,what I am going to tell you is how to find out if that journey was successful.

You must have loved your dog when he was alive and upon his death feel as if your heart has been ripped from your body.

The star will not work if it's a false gesture on your part.

You must follow the steps exactly the way I will tell you to find that star.

Go into the night the first clear night you have in your area.

Go to a spot you and your dog used to go.

Close your eyes and talk to your dog as if he is sitting right by your side, don't rush it, tears will flow like a giant river.

All at once you will feel a very strange sensation, it will feel as if the dog is sitting right by your side.

At that moment open your eyes and look to the sky, look all over ,but mostly in the North, Northeast portion.

All at once you will see the brightest and warmest star in the sky, it will be the one blinking.

It will draw your attention to it.

At that moment close your eyes, then open them again and if you see that star again it is you dog telling you that he has had a successful journey.

That star will stay in the same spot night after night until your grieving is over, then it will disappear- never to be seen by you again until you too have made that successful journey.

When your journey is complete, you too will put your star in the sky.

Doug Coulter

Codokas Goldens & Dog Training

Past Home Of: U-CDX -TAMARA OF DOC'S MONTY- CDX ,S-CDX, CGC, REGISTERED THERAPY DOG(Our Little ***STAR***.) 11-9-85 to 7-19-96 Waiting patiently for me at the bridge. I still miss you, I still love you, and the hurt is still there.
 
#118 ·
"Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim."
 
#119 ·
If it's ok Id like to post this here so I can check it every day.

The previous posts have been filled with words that both make me cry and smile and look forward to seeing my Jill again. Thank you!

Yesterday I had to say good bye to my shadow, my companion, my BEST friend of 11 years, Jill. You see I have never really been a people person but Jill brought out emotions and feelings I cant describe. She wasn't the perfect dog by most standards. She chewed through the dry wall all day when she was a pup while I was at work. She shredded magazines and furniture but was always happy to see me no matter what. She was very vocal and whined a lot but I always figured she was trying to talk to me. She was the most gentle dog I have seen, never even batting an eye when my child jumped on her. She never met a stranger and stole the heart of everyone she met whether they liked it or not.

She was my constant partner in the duck blind and was very good at her job. She was no field champion but she was a true champion in the field. Back issues retired her early but her desire to go never failed. She even put up with a new crazy lab in the house that would eventually take over her duties in the blind. Yet, she never complained. She has been by my side through every significant event in my life including being the best "woman" at my wedding and the birth of my children. It seems unfair to get a dog like this as my first. No other can compare. She always seemed more human than animal.

For the past few weeks her appetite has been slowing, the vet believed it was pancreatitis and treated her accordingly. Jill's second favorite thing in the world after getting attention was to eat. So I was very saddened when she refused to eat all together. Her desire to move about went away and her usual extreme tail wag was harder to get. The trip to the vet hospital on Sunday was very difficult. I could almost feel it was her last ride. An overnight stay and fluid replacement did nothing to help her. The xrays proved that she was riddled with cancer.

She looked so tired but the glow in her big brown eyes still took me back to her earlier years. Her body was failing her. I took her a recent killed duck to the hospital and she made several 5 foot retrieves and I got a glimpse of that famous tail wag. The decision was made to not let my best friend suffer any longer. She passed peacefully in my arms with tears streaming down my face. I only hope she realized I was doing this out of love for her and I would do anything to turn back time. Its just not fair that she is gone so soon. I never wanted to think about it happening and always thought I would get a couple more years.

The little things are what is so hard. I miss her putting her nose under my hand and making you pet her whether you wanted to or not. I miss her walking in the kitchen and flipping open the trash can lid to check for something good. I miss the whining and really I miss absolutely everything. I only pray that all the poems and sayings are true and that there is a rainbow bridge and I will see her again. That is the only faith that can keep me going. I hope she is with me and my family now in spirit. Oh what I would give for just one more day.

Please hug your boys and girls tight and give them an extra treat. They are here only for an instant.

I love you Jill. Please save me a place in the duck blind. I will see you soon.

Southern Firefighter's Flame JH -"Jill"
11/6/02 - 11/25/13

 
#120 ·
Goodbye my old girl, you were by my side for almost 17 years. I would say you were no more than a house pet because you were never field trained, but you were so much more. You were a friend and a constant companion. My first dog, my first Golden. Miss you so very much.

"Tiny"
3-20-1997 - 11-22-2013
"Whisper my name in your heart, and I will be there"

Dog breed Dog Canidae Sky Labrador retriever
 
#121 ·
This quote has helped me a little so I added it to a photo of my Jill that I always thought showed God looking down on her. I always felt the closest to God sitting in a duck blind with Jill.

 
#122 ·
I got you at 6 weeks old and you slept on my chest/neck for the first few weeks. I had you for 9 wonderful years where you proceeded to sit in my lap any time you pleased. You were my first purebred dog. I know I did things wrong with you as we were learning together but I wouldn't trade any amount of our time together for anything. I love and miss you so much my Big Girl! RIP Zoe.
 
#123 · (Edited)
#124 ·
View attachment 18949

Here's my first chessie that I ever owned. She was a great friend and hunter. Didn't matter what it was, if I asked her to fetch it, she would. Very loving, yet protective of me and my family. My daughters were like her puppies, which she never had any. But she was very motherly to my girls. I miss her very much. Fetch 'em up Sugar!!!
 
#126 · (Edited)
Wow - what a thread! What a feeling of brother(and sister)hood to see so many of my own emotions reflected on the screen. My most genuine and heartfelt condolences to you all. Similarly to some others, I joined this forum because of this thread. I lost my yellow female "Ruby" to osteosarcoma at 9 years old earlier this year. I just got a new pup, but that's an introduction to make in another thread. For now, I'd like to share some of what I wrote previously. On the day that I found out, I felt the need to write, and poured out the following:

How could this be? When I look at you now, 90 pounds of muscle and Fundy-proof fur, led at one end by your big block head bearing an infallible nose, wise brown eyes and impossibly soft ears. Bringing up the rear is that thick ever-thumping rudder of a tail. Yet inside that muscular shoulder, just infront of your strongly beating heart-of-a-lion, it's eating you, they tell me. And it's eating you fast.

This was not the outcome that I expected when I brought you to him yesterday. I was so sure. A limp in that same dodgy shoulder - surely just those problematic tendons flared up again? No problem, I thought ,cortisone injections and a month of leash-rest and you'll be good as new. Well, good as any "new" 9 year old lab can be. In my mind’s eye I had you sitting in my canoe a month from now, as we paddled up the meadow to the portage trail where you'd be trotting along ahead of me. Once in a while I'd tilt the canoe up to see you looking back, checking on me to make sure that I was still coming. I can see you now at the top of every steep rise, between the huge mossy rocks, looking down at me with a panting smile as I stumble my way up, panting and smiling a little myself.

So when the vet looked your over and you yelped and flattened your ears at his gentle touch, the furrow in his brow was not lost on me. My stomach did a little flipflop when he said that he wanted to do a quick x-ray before proceeding with the cortisone injections. I don't understand - you can’t SEE tendons on x-rays, can you? Oh well, nomatter, it's only money and nothing is too good for my Fur Kid. I went along to help the techs to get you comfortably and calmly onto the x-ray table. You were compliant as usual, as I nuzzled my face against yours while they positioned you for an image of the offending joint. I looked up and we watched the magic of the digital x-ray slowly appear on the screen. And then we were quiet. Even my untrained eye could see it plain as day - a matrix of honeycomb throughout the top of your humerus. When the vet was called to look, and he said quietly, 'Come with me'. No 'flipflop' this time - more like a punch in the guts.

I follow him and we sit. And the news hits me. Hard. And as he keeps talking, and I keep asking, it keeps hitting, as each tendril of hope snaps and rocks me back in my chair. In the silence that follows, I am left with very little to cling to. I have a few palliative drugs to try to make you comfortable. I have the looming knowledge that it will be up me to understand, and to listen to you, when you need me to bring you back here for the last time. And I have the knowledge that that day will be soon. All that I can give you is the promise, because while you owe me nothing, I owe you everything, that I will help you.

Back home, we move a bed downstairs so that we can live together on one floor, respecting the fact that you've always preferred to be within a few feet of my ankles at any time, and that the stairs, like our steep portage to the trout lake, are now off limits for you.

And time with you now is a rollercoaster. At times, lying splayed on your side in an opiate daze, you stare at the wall and I want it to be over. But then you drift off, and all five limbs (because if a lab's tail isn't a limb then what is it?) twitch and thump as you charge off after a pheasant flushed and tumbled to the ground in a field of dreams. And then you wake and wince to your feet while I leap to mine. Outside, I curse the snowy remnants of the longest winter in recent history as you stumble around painfully trying to get positioned. When you wince and I see the whites of your eyes, your velvet ears pinned back against your big yellow head I am shattered. I hope that no neighbors happen by at that moment to witness my grief. But a moment later you're snuffling your nose happily into the snow, flushing some ghost of a peanut deep beneath. Then, we both freeze at once and cock our ears to the sound. Clear as a bell in the cool spring air, even over the swish and splash of springtime urban traffic, we both heard it. Ga-HONK. I turn to look at you, and I'm gutted once again by your bird-stiffened stance, strong neck stretched upward, ears forwards, with that gleam in your eye as you focus on the sky and wait for them to appear. When they do appear you glance quickly at me, then back at the geese. Yes, I saw them too! As the nine of them glide right overhead, their own long necks stretched northward over the neighbourhood rooftops, I can see the slight tremble of anticipation that you always get. If you heard the click of a safety you'd flinch a bit and coil yourself for the retrieve. And if I shot one, you'd make that retrieve I'm quite sure - three-legged and osteosarcoma be damned. And this shatters me too. Once again, no neighbours to
witness my heaving shoulders as I kneel and gather your big head into my arms. You pull away - I'm blocking your view of the departing geese dammit
!

And just a short week later, I composed this, posted on a local hunting forum for a close-knit community of hunters, many of whom had met Ruby in person, and all of whom had watched my first gun dog "grow up" on the forum:

Over the years I have subjected you guys to a bombardment of pics and stories from Ruby and I's adventures together, so I figure I owe it to you to pass on this sad news since you "watched her grow up".

It's with a broken heart that I have to tell you that we had to put our beloved Ruby down yesterday evening.

Last Wednesday Kelly and I took Ruby to the vet to arrange for cortisone injections to try to solve a re-occurence of lameness in her left forelimb (after a wonderful 5 month reprieve). We were hoping for a month of leash-rest and then May would find her scampering along the portage route with us on our way to a 10th summer of adventure. Sadly, we received much worse news. Ruby had advanced osteosarcoma (cancer) in her upper left humerus - a painful and fatal disease. Amputation followed by chemo/radiation is a treatment option that is sometimes attempted, but this generally buys only a further 4-5 months. In Ruby's case, it was clear to Kelly and I that sensible and unselfish treatment options were strictly palliative.

Unfortunately, none of the available drugs appeared to be effective. We tried a cocktail of anti-inflammatories and a powerful opiate until Friday, but aside from sleeping a lot she was clearly still in a lot of pain. We added a nerve-calming agent to the cocktail over the weekend but it quickly became very clear to both of us that the available treatments (which we had by now exhausted) were not providing her with sufficient pain relief that we would consider humane.

So last night at 5 our vet shed tears alongside us as Ruby's great soft head sank heavily into my hands while Kelly and I held her and talked softly to her as she slipped away. She went as calmly and softly as we ever could have hoped and with all the dignity that she so very much deserved. As you can imagine, we're shattered, but we take a measure of comfort in the memories of the 9 years of wonderful adventures that we had with her. But she leaves behind a big hole in our home and in our hearts.

Thanks to all of you who shared your feedback over the years, it helped a newby bird hunter with his new dog along to a fantastic 9 years and some of what where the happiest days of my life. Thanks OldDucker and Chezz for inviting me along on some of my first "classic" ducks hunts, to work alongside the noble Beau and the mighty Timber to see how it's done. Thanks also to Mainlander- a man with infinite patience for Ruby's early bad habits of getting out of range! We sure SAW a lot of roosters on his generously shared covers, even if some of them were 100 yards away as we sprinted along trying to keep up to her! Thanks especially to Take'em, who has been along on more adventures afield with myself and Ruby than I'd care to count. With Jake the savage cover-buster alongside Ruby, we made for an unstoppable team. With "the Tank" and "the Nose" on their case those poor roosters never stood a chance!












A first rooster each for my old buddy Jaydog and his lovely missus


Her last roosters - a quick pre-workday limit (her specialty!)


Dave
 
#129 · (Edited)
RIP Britton's Gold Ginger Spice JR 02/18/2002 to 11/07/2014

She will be missed. As a young pup, she was quirky about pretending not knowing how to swim at a new pond, to trying to get out of work. She matured into a nice retriever. She loved her kids, and would check on my daughter Lindsey when she was born in 2003 on command. Ginger's training and tests slowed down in 2005 when Austin was born. She was diagnosed with a heart murmur as well, so I just hunted her when I could. She held up and kept the kids entertained as I wrapped up an MBA from 2009 to 2011. By 2012, she wasn't in much shape to hunt or go on walks with my wife. In 2013, she had a couple of tumors removed. Her symptoms showed up again last week where she wouldn't eat, and just laid around. So, we took her to the vet where the ultrasound confirmed her stomach was blocked by a tumor, and was throughout her whole digestive track. We had her put to sleep Thursday night as I held her head, and massaged behind her ears with her whole family there.

Ginger will be missed. I will try to come back and add a few pictures.
 

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#130 ·
March 3, 1999 - December 5, 2014
Lost the best damn dog in the world today. She was my first dog. We competed in 4-H for a few years before I aged out. She was the most rambunctious, happy go lucky, dog ever! I was told I would have my work cut out for me. We worked hard and my Senior year we purpled in Obedience and I took Top Senior Handler. A few years later we passed the CGC test. She was about 10 years old. She had settled down just enough to pass. Up until about 2 years ago she was a little trouble maker. She would still stand at the door and bark. Walk back and forth across the yard and bark. Try to get into the garbage every day. Eat anything you give her. Loved to bark at cows. Used to get out of the yard and run and run. Taught her to play basketball, wave, and believe it or not she could count! During the dog shows at 4-H she would belly crawl out to me during the long down. Many other stories as well. She was my everything. My heart dog. My best friend. It feels like she was supposed to live forever. Britt I love you with all my heart and miss you so much. Run free my Booger Butt.
 
#132 ·
deepest condolences. saw your post and was afraid it was Bear.
 
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