K9k77
Zooville Settler
My best friend of 8 years passed away yesterday morning of cancer.
From the day I rescued him, until the end, he was a loving, kind, and intelligent gentle giant. In the beginning, I planned on kennel training him. That ended with him him falling asleep on my chest the first night. Immediately, the kennel training idea was not happening, and he would sleep on my bed. He had one accident in the house, the first week I brought him home, then it never happened again. I did no special training. He just established a routine with me from the beginning, then stayed with it. Whether it was letting kids put stuffed animals on his back to being curious about other species (even had a squirrel friend that visited him at the front door. He never once tried breaking out to chase. He would just watch the squirrel. I guess, the squirrel knew him from hanging out the backyard or something, because it would walk right up to the window like it and him were best buddies.) He was always full of love and excitement. From a newborn baby to a senior citizen, he was gentle and loving. He loved car rides from the day I rescued him (the very first photo of him is inside my SUV outside The Humane Society). He loved HIS dog park, whether it was 0700 or 0100. I'm going to miss him hopping up with his tail wagging with his, "Where are we going daddy?" look, as I walk towards the front door. He didn't care where we went, or how long we would be gone, he wanted to be in the car with me to see it all. He would sit in the car waiting for me to return, when I would run into the store, gas station, etc. If a kid walked past his open window, he would stick his head out to say hi. The kids would ask to pet him, (after their parents said yes) I would say, "Of course." They would put their hand up to him, and he would immediately lick their hands. The kids would laugh, and their parents would tell me he was such a nice dog. We would be stuck in after school traffic and the middle/high school kids would come up to the window to pet him. He loved it. Every friend I would visit with him would be treated like family by him. If you were ok with me, he would welcome you with open paws. He loved letting everyone on the block know, with his hound howl, either a delivery was on the block, or, really, anyone at all, was on the block. He didn't care what time it was, EVERYONE was going to be alerted. He was an amazing dog, and really, a family member. I wish I could have had more than 8 years with him, but I know he understood my unconditional love for him, and I know he had the same for me. He fought his cancer with dignity and strength. He knows I didn't give up on him, and exhausted every option possible. He came running through the vet door after surgery with his tail wagging, like he just received a massage. He was like a puppy again from that day, until this past week. Everyone made sure he knew we all loved him. At the end though, he was in so much pain and his body began to shut down. Even though he could barely move, couldn't eat or drink anything, his tail still wagged like a puppy when he saw me. I was with him until crossed over the rainbow bridge. He went very peacefully. Before the vet began, he looked at me in a way difficult to describe. It felt like he was telling me, it was ok. As soon as he passed, I felt an overwhelming peace. I felt the pain release him. He will always be with me in my heart and mind.
From the day I rescued him, until the end, he was a loving, kind, and intelligent gentle giant. In the beginning, I planned on kennel training him. That ended with him him falling asleep on my chest the first night. Immediately, the kennel training idea was not happening, and he would sleep on my bed. He had one accident in the house, the first week I brought him home, then it never happened again. I did no special training. He just established a routine with me from the beginning, then stayed with it. Whether it was letting kids put stuffed animals on his back to being curious about other species (even had a squirrel friend that visited him at the front door. He never once tried breaking out to chase. He would just watch the squirrel. I guess, the squirrel knew him from hanging out the backyard or something, because it would walk right up to the window like it and him were best buddies.) He was always full of love and excitement. From a newborn baby to a senior citizen, he was gentle and loving. He loved car rides from the day I rescued him (the very first photo of him is inside my SUV outside The Humane Society). He loved HIS dog park, whether it was 0700 or 0100. I'm going to miss him hopping up with his tail wagging with his, "Where are we going daddy?" look, as I walk towards the front door. He didn't care where we went, or how long we would be gone, he wanted to be in the car with me to see it all. He would sit in the car waiting for me to return, when I would run into the store, gas station, etc. If a kid walked past his open window, he would stick his head out to say hi. The kids would ask to pet him, (after their parents said yes) I would say, "Of course." They would put their hand up to him, and he would immediately lick their hands. The kids would laugh, and their parents would tell me he was such a nice dog. We would be stuck in after school traffic and the middle/high school kids would come up to the window to pet him. He loved it. Every friend I would visit with him would be treated like family by him. If you were ok with me, he would welcome you with open paws. He loved letting everyone on the block know, with his hound howl, either a delivery was on the block, or, really, anyone at all, was on the block. He didn't care what time it was, EVERYONE was going to be alerted. He was an amazing dog, and really, a family member. I wish I could have had more than 8 years with him, but I know he understood my unconditional love for him, and I know he had the same for me. He fought his cancer with dignity and strength. He knows I didn't give up on him, and exhausted every option possible. He came running through the vet door after surgery with his tail wagging, like he just received a massage. He was like a puppy again from that day, until this past week. Everyone made sure he knew we all loved him. At the end though, he was in so much pain and his body began to shut down. Even though he could barely move, couldn't eat or drink anything, his tail still wagged like a puppy when he saw me. I was with him until crossed over the rainbow bridge. He went very peacefully. Before the vet began, he looked at me in a way difficult to describe. It felt like he was telling me, it was ok. As soon as he passed, I felt an overwhelming peace. I felt the pain release him. He will always be with me in my heart and mind.
