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Posted by dennis on 03-24-2005 at06:41:

Frown My Lost Dogs...

I lost my dog Duke when I was a kid. He didn't run away.
My parents brought him to the Vet and they had to put him down.
I never even had a chance to say "Goodbye."

I felt bad about that dog for years...

My Dad was positive he was going to be okay. I think he was as surprised as I was... and I was just a kid.

We had this other Dog "Queenie" who also was dying. This time I did say "Goodbye" and told her what a good dog she was, and though she was in pain, she wagged her tail seemed to calm down some.

I left for work and my Mom called and left a message that she died. The poor owners daughter, who was just a kid herself, had to tell me the bad news.

Of course when I was younger and we lived by a pretty busy county road, we lost a few cats and one dog (Toby.) I think we buried 5 pets all together that year.

Lost dogs (and all other pets) are the first taste most people have of real loss.

I know it was mine.

Posted by Mountain Fan on 03-25-2005 at00:20:


Leave it to dennis to make me think of my lost dogs Crying Tongue

Posted by dennis on 03-25-2005 at06:16:


well, that's what this thread is for!
Post your story about your lost dogs! Life is filled with Joy & Loss, and
pets are most people first real taste of loss (if they are lucky)

So, I don't know... I think it's important! Pleased

Posted by MuddyRashes on 03-25-2005 at10:00:

Thumb Up!

This should be added to the Worship re-issue

Posted by dennis on 03-25-2005 at10:02:


I have a poem about Queenie on the new spoken word CD
I am working on, "Jesus, Velvet Elvis & Me."

Posted by Fritz Basset on 03-26-2005 at01:51:


The closest I came to having a "lost dog" was a Beagle puppy our family had for a weekend. It ended up keeping my parents awake all night and peed all over the floors so my parents took her back. It was only a couple of days but it still hurt. I was 9 at the time. I still am looking forward to the day I can get my own dog (a Basset Hound).

Posted by bereal on 03-28-2005 at01:59:


Okay, I can't resist sharing this!

My "lost dog" Pepper lived around 13 years. We weren't real sure how long because we didn't know exactly when she was born. We got her during the winter when I was 7. My mom and I were at my uncle's house when a neighbor knocked on the door and said, "Jack, you know anybody who'd want a puppy? Found this little thing shivering in the snow. Must've been abandoned." Of course, I immediately said, "Can we keep it, Mom?" and she said, "Well, let me have that little fur ball." We held her and fell in love with her and I named her Pepper because she was completely black. Over the years, she became more gray than black, but she was my beloved "Boo Boo Bear". She got that nickname because we called her "Pepper Poo" which eventually got changed to "Boo" and then we started to call her "Boo Boo". One time, my mom, my cousin and I took a long trip to visit relatives and had Pepper with us. We were getting quite punchy when we stopped for a bathroom break. When we were trying to get Pepper back in the car, my cousin hollered, "Hey, Boo Boo," sounding just like Yogi Bear. We then started to call her Boo Boo Bear.

She was always there to lend a listening ear (she didn't talk back Big Grin ). I could get upset at her and yell and she would still come climb in my lap for me to pet. She was the most gentle dog I ever knew. She was some sort of terrior mix (Scottie and something else). She had a sock that she sucked on (because she was not weaned when she was abandoned, she sucked on it like a baby sucks a pacifier) and had epilepsy that we had to give her a pill for daily. That pill may have been why she was so gentle. My mom accidentally took one of the epilepsy pills one day because the bottle was sitting beside her vitamin bottle. She was flying high that day and didn't really have a care in the world. If that's what it did to Pepper, it's no wonder she was such a good-natured dog.

We "lost" her after I got married. She was very sick and my mom took her to the vet. He recommended that mom take her to a veterinary specialist in Charlotte the following week. The appointment was made. MF and I stopped to see my mom and step-dad on our way through town when we were going to visit his grandparents. Before we left, I told Pepper that I would be back Sunday. She had this sad face that seemed to say, "Okay, I'll wait for you." She was still alive Sunday when we stopped on our way home. Monday, my mom called to tell me she had to take Pepper to the vet and leave her overnight for observation because she was not doing well. Tuesday morning while I was at work, my mom called in tears to tell me that Pepper had died overnight at the vet's office. It was so sad. Crying Crying Crying

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