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Tippy Has Died

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  • James Dawson
    My little Tipper J. died suddenly, Thursday, October 8, 2009. Tippy was a little white poodle dog my brother rescued from the street.  I don t know when this
    Message 1 of 5 , Oct 21, 2009
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      My little Tipper J. died suddenly, Thursday, October 8, 2009.

      Tippy was a little white poodle dog my brother rescued from the street.  I don't know when this was for sure---probably not earlier than 1994, but maybe a year or two later.  This would have made him between 13 and 15 years old at his death.

      For weeks, I and my two brothers would see him as we drove down Tomki Road.  Like a little ghost who haunted the same spot of road, he would happily, eagerly, run out to greet each approaching car, as if greeting a master coming home.  But his eager hope would always suddenly turn to fear each time, and he would quickly turn around, and run back to the roadside bushes for safety.  It was heartbreaking.

      Several times my brother and I went down to the spot and tried to coax him with food.  But he was always much too frightened and nimble to catch.  One day, unexpectedly, my brother came home with him, all his fear completely gone, as he happily and playfully ran around in circles.  But for weeks, just the sight of a cat out of the corner of his eye would make him scream in terror.  His cold, lonely ordeal, homeless on a country road on many a dark night, had apparently scarred and traumatized him.  It was some time before he recovered.

      I called Tippy by several nicknames, one being Tipper Stinker J. (the initial standing for nothing in particular), and doted on him totally.  His joy, was my joy.  Often, when my brother went on a walk, which Tippy, as all dogs, loved with a great joy, and for some reason I couldn't come, he would come running back to me.  As much as he love his walks, as much as I tried to encourage him to go without me, he wouldn't.  He and I had a special bond.

      When I moved from California to Washington state this May, I had to leave Tippy behind with my brother.  His subdued silence, as I left him, seeming almost to know the worst, absolutely killed me.  I didn't know what the climate was for animals in the town I was moving too.  I didn't know how well he'd adapt, having lived a far freer and rural life for so long.  If I found out it was okay, maybe I would send for Tippy.  Sadly, that never happened.

      Though my brother did his best, he was too busy to take Tippy for the long walks that made him so happy.  Also, without any satisfaction, the possibility that Tippy still remembered me and painfully missed me, tortured me, as it does this very moment.

      A few days ago, Tippy was coughing one morning.  When my brother came home from town later that day, he found Tippy in a semi-coma.  That night, he died.

      I knew long before that Tippy was getting old, and the day he left this world would have to come soon.  But somehow, I'd always hoped he'd be with us for much longer.  Tippy always had a problem with getting "foxtails", grass seeds, in his ears, paws and teeth, which caused him terrible pain, and required frequent trips to the veterinarian.  He'd also developed back pain.  Fortunately, we discovered that glucosamine-chondroitin tablets alleviated this a lot, but still, it was plain that Tippy's little body was just wearing out.

      I guess, I feel a sense of relief that he went quickly, that he didn't have to suffer a lingering decline before his death---he, like me, was such a baby.  But in the past few days, even in my better and more positive moods, I will be struck with sudden surges of intense grief that seem to last for hours, that I can't get out of.  I'm am literally sick with it.

      I can't get out of my mind the heartbreak Tippy may have felt when I never came home.  My brother did tell me on the phone that he was often cheerful and playful for weeks before the end, so I hope I can come to the point of taking some comfort in that.

      If Tippy continues to exist in some way, some form, I hope  any unhappiness that may have dwelled in his little heart, is completely washed away.

      Goodbye, little one.  Be happy.  Maybe we will be together again some day.
      JND




      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
    • Starchild
      James, Beautiful message, and sorry for your loss. You humble me to have that much love for a dog, as did another recent story I received from my friend
      Message 2 of 5 , Oct 21, 2009
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        James,

        Beautiful message, and sorry for your loss. You humble me to have
        that much love for a dog, as did another recent story I received from
        my friend Veronica a few days ago. Here is that story and some photos
        of her dogs Blanco and Shekhina. Hopefully the pictures will appear
        properly.

        Love & Liberty,
        ((( starchild )))



        ----------




        ----------




        ----------



        Can You Help Blanco and Me?


        Dear Starchild,

        Blanco needed life-saving surgery a few days ago and choosing to save
        his life rather than euthanise him was a decision I didn't take
        lightly. In the final analysis, I refused to let monetary concerns
        determine matters of life and death. Instead, I let Blanco decide and
        his eyes were full of fire and a will to live.

        Now I am asking you if you can spare $10 to $25 to help me cover the
        approximately $5,000 in medical bills. If you can afford $50, I will
        gladly send you a free copy of one of my DVDs. And donations of $100
        or more will qualify for a free book and a free DVD.

        Thank you for taking the time to read this and if you can contribute
        even a small amount I would like to thank you personally with an old
        fashioned greeting card (in the mail). Please scroll down to read
        about Blanco's four year romance with Shekhina and what Blanco has
        taught me about life.

        Click here to help me help Blanco and to claim your free gift.


        ----------



        Help Me Help Blanco

        Click here to donate to Blanco's medical costs via PayPal.

        Or Mail your Gift to:

        Blanco
        % Veronica Monet
        228 Commercial Street
        #408
        Nevada City, CA 95959

        Please be sure to include your mailing address so I can send you your
        free gift or simply email me and I will verify your donation and send
        your free gift.

        $10 to $49: Thank you Card in the mail.
        $50 to $99: One Free DVD.
        $100 or more: One Free Book and One Free DVD.


        ----------




        I will never forget the first morning after Blanco discovered sex.
        When the three of us woke up that day, he let out a high pitched sound
        that could only be described as a scream for joy. I had never heard
        him make a sound like that. He couldn't wait for me to let them out
        the door so they could start having sex again. No breakfast thank you
        very much. Sex was the only thing on his mind today.

        Shekhina only went into heat every four or five months and then she
        was only receptive to sex for about ten days so it is understandable
        that Blanco and she would want to have as much sex as possible during
        that short window of opportunity. Over the course of a year, Blanco
        and Shekhina learned how to have sex through trial and error just like
        the rest of us do. And their relationship changed. Before sex, they
        cared about each other but not in the same way they cared about each
        other once sex became a part of their relationship. After sex, being
        separated from each other for even a few minutes became cause for
        concern. And whenever they were reunited, they always exchanged
        passionate kisses on the mouth.

        When Shekhina was in heat, Blanco would not allow any humans but me to
        pet her. He guarded his lover with every fiber of his being. There
        was an amorous neighbor dog who had a thing for Shekhina. The first
        time she went into heat, he came calling. His courtship was terribly
        sweet. Every morning when we awoke, he would be standing patiently
        and quietly in front of our gate. He never barked or whined. He just
        stood there with a lovesick look on his face. Once when we took our
        daily walk, he tracked us from a respectful distance. We turned to
        see him trailing us at a 75 feet distance. Shekhina was impressed and
        let out an affectionate whine as she started in his direction. I
        restrained her because I was in no mood for puppies. Blanco lunged
        toward the would-be suitor. Our Romeo trotted away peaceably despite
        Shekhina's pleading to the contrary.

        But the next morning he was waiting on the other side of the fence
        again. Blanco was not impressed and barked vociferously until the
        other male dog retreated. Shortly thereafter, Shekhina fell out of
        heat and the matter seemed moot. But Blanco was simply biding his time.

        One day as we were coming home from our daily walk, the neighbor dog
        happened to be on the same road minding his own business. The poor
        guy wasn't doing a thing and Shekhina wasn't even in heat. But Blanco
        saw his opportunity and took off running. He kicked the poor dog's
        ass all the way to his own front door step. Blanco had not forgotten
        the way he flirted with Shekhina the last time she was in heat. I was
        caught off guard because I had no idea Blanco would remember his past
        grievance from several months ago. And I certainly did not expect him
        to take such swift and final action about it. The other dog wasn't
        hurt thankfully. But he never dared to visit Shekhina again.


        For the Dog Lovers


        ----------




        One day I took Shekhina and Blanco for a drive around a man-made lake
        in the Tahoe National Forest. It is a popular resort for fishing,
        boating and house-boating. We stopped at the shore for a potty
        break. I took in the beauty while Blanco and Shekhina did what dogs
        do - take in the smells. Blanco was about six years old and in his
        entire life I had never seen him look up at the sky. I even tried to
        point up in an effort to get him to see a bird but to no avail. The
        only birds Blanco ever saw were sitting on the ground or floating on
        the water. He loved to chase big birds like seagulls when they were
        standing on the shore but if a bird was in flight, it didn't exist for
        him.

        This day, there were massive vultures circling the skies. They were
        flying fairly low but I assumed the grandeur of their presence would
        be lost upon my furry friends. I took a deep breath and imagined what
        it would be like if I had wings and could ride the thermals as these
        big birds do. Being protective of my little puppy, I also asked
        myself if there was any risk one of these huge birds might fly off
        with her. Of course not, I told myself. These birds of prey don't
        possess talons for grasping like eagles and hawks do. And any way,
        vultures prefer their meat to be thoroughly dead.

        While these various thoughts and emotions were coursing through my
        cluttered brain, I looked down to see Shekhina staring up into the
        sky. The look upon her face can only be described as awe. Her eyes
        were wide with wonder. Blanco was predictably oblivious as his nose
        scoured the ground for fascinating scents. But the sight of these
        great birds had stopped Shekhina in her tracks. She stood there for a
        few moments, motionless and full of curiosity.


        ----------




        Losing Shekhina transformed my life. I am acutely aware of how
        fleeting life is and as a result I question my daily routine and ask
        myself if this is how I want to spend my remaining time on earth. I
        am also careful to express my love for my family members because I no
        longer assume they will be alive tomorrow. I wish I could say I have
        abandoned my workaholic ways, but I still sit at my computer way too
        long and many is the night I wish Shekhina were here to nudge my hand
        from the computer mouse and insist I take a break.

        Blanco is a different dog too. He still misses Shekhina. I know this
        because he finds her scent occasionally and when he does, his body
        language softens and sometimes he will gently kiss whatever smells
        like her. It might be a spot on a chair or her dog collar, but the
        kisses he administers are unmistakably intended for her.

        The other day, I heard a couple crows cawing. I looked outside my
        office window to see raven sized birds sitting in the top of an 80
        foot pine. But what took my breath away was what was happening at the
        foot of the tree. Blanco was barking at the crows and charging the
        base of the tree with an impressive territorial display. His head was
        turned upward as he challenged the big birds. Blanco had learned to
        look up and see birds. And I knew who taught him to.
        Dog is the Piece of Us which is Missing


        ----------




        The World According to Dog

        1. Let the little ones win
        2. The toy is irrelevant - the game is what matters
        3. Words can cause confusion - communication is best when it is silent
        4. You can tell a friend from a foe if you just pay attention
        5. Friends enjoy just being together
        6. The pack is one organism
        7. There is always room for one more
        8. Jealousy is a basic emotion
        9. Love is universal
        10. Empathy was not invented by humans
        11. Pain sounds the same no matter how many legs you have
        12. It is very exciting to go somewhere and just as exciting to come
        home
        13. We all watch our loved ones leave with longing in our eyes
        14. We all worry when our loved ones are gone
        15. You should let your loved ones know how much you missed them
        16. You don't need arms to give someone a hug
        17. You don't need lips to give someone a kiss
        18. Just because I lick your face does NOT mean you can come inside my
        home
        19. If she/he gets one, I get one too
        20. Play fair
        21. Going to the bathroom and getting a drink of water are universal
        time-outs
        22. Fresh snow brings out the puppy in all of us


        ----------





        The Dead of Winter

        Winter snow melted minutes after
        you took your last breath
        You died just before
        the first signs of spring

        The robins have returned
        to herald each evening
        The tiniest tracks
        at the river's edge
        Trace the first steps of a new fawn
        at its mother's side
        Clusters of frogs compete
        with their cheerful chirping
        Flowers threaten to precede
        buds of bright green leaves

        The sun stabs my heart
        with its happiness
        I wish it would rain grey all day
        I am haunted and taunted
        With rebirth and new life
        While I weep
        For the fire in your eyes

        In memory of Shekhina who died February 18, 2008.
        Thank You for Caring
        Anything you can do to help me help Blanco will be greatly
        appreciated. Be sure to include your contact information so I can
        send you your gift as my way of thanking you for your generosity:

        $10 to $49: Thank You Card in the Mail
        $50 to $99: One Free DVD
        $100 or more: One Free DVD and One Free Book

        Click Here to Help Blanco Now!

        And thank you for caring.
        Sincerely,

        Veronica Monet
        for Blanco
        veronica@...
        888-903-0050



        On Oct 21, 2009, at 6:11 PM, James Dawson wrote:
        > My little Tipper J. died suddenly, Thursday, October 8, 2009.
        >
        > Tippy was a little white poodle dog my brother rescued from the
        > street. I don't know when this was for sure---probably not earlier
        > than 1994, but maybe a year or two later. This would have made him
        > between 13 and 15 years old at his death.
        >
        > For weeks, I and my two brothers would see him as we drove down
        > Tomki Road. Like a little ghost who haunted the same spot of road,
        > he would happily, eagerly, run out to greet each approaching car, as
        > if greeting a master coming home. But his eager hope would always
        > suddenly turn to fear each time, and he would quickly turn around,
        > and run back to the roadside bushes for safety. It was heartbreaking.
        >
        > Several times my brother and I went down to the spot and tried to
        > coax him with food. But he was always much too frightened and
        > nimble to catch. One day, unexpectedly, my brother came home with
        > him, all his fear completely gone, as he happily and playfully ran
        > around in circles. But for weeks, just the sight of a cat out of
        > the corner of his eye would make him scream in terror. His cold,
        > lonely ordeal, homeless on a country road on many a dark night, had
        > apparently scarred and traumatized him. It was some time before he
        > recovered.
        >
        > I called Tippy by several nicknames, one being Tipper Stinker J.
        > (the initial standing for nothing in particular), and doted on him
        > totally. His joy, was my joy. Often, when my brother went on a
        > walk, which Tippy, as all dogs, loved with a great joy, and for some
        > reason I couldn't come, he would come running back to me. As much
        > as he love his walks, as much as I tried to encourage him to go
        > without me, he wouldn't. He and I had a special bond.
        >
        > When I moved from California to Washington state this May, I had to
        > leave Tippy behind with my brother. His subdued silence, as I left
        > him, seeming almost to know the worst, absolutely killed me. I
        > didn't know what the climate was for animals in the town I was
        > moving too. I didn't know how well he'd adapt, having lived a far
        > freer and rural life for so long. If I found out it was okay, maybe
        > I would send for Tippy. Sadly, that never happened.
        >
        > Though my brother did his best, he was too busy to take Tippy for
        > the long walks that made him so happy. Also, without any
        > satisfaction, the possibility that Tippy still remembered me and
        > painfully missed me, tortured me, as it does this very moment.
        >
        > A few days ago, Tippy was coughing one morning. When my brother
        > came home from town later that day, he found Tippy in a semi-coma.
        > That night, he died.
        >
        > I knew long before that Tippy was getting old, and the day he left
        > this world would have to come soon. But somehow, I'd always hoped
        > he'd be with us for much longer. Tippy always had a problem with
        > getting "foxtails", grass seeds, in his ears, paws and teeth, which
        > caused him terrible pain, and required frequent trips to the
        > veterinarian. He'd also developed back pain. Fortunately, we
        > discovered that glucosamine-chondroitin tablets alleviated this a
        > lot, but still, it was plain that Tippy's little body was just
        > wearing out.
        >
        > I guess, I feel a sense of relief that he went quickly, that he
        > didn't have to suffer a lingering decline before his death---he,
        > like me, was such a baby. But in the past few days, even in my
        > better and more positive moods, I will be struck with sudden surges
        > of intense grief that seem to last for hours, that I can't get out
        > of. I'm am literally sick with it.
        >
        > I can't get out of my mind the heartbreak Tippy may have felt when I
        > never came home. My brother did tell me on the phone that he was
        > often cheerful and playful for weeks before the end, so I hope I can
        > come to the point of taking some comfort in that.
        >
        > If Tippy continues to exist in some way, some form, I hope any
        > unhappiness that may have dwelled in his little heart, is completely
        > washed away.
        >
        > Goodbye, little one. Be happy. Maybe we will be together again
        > some day.
        > JND
        >



        [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
      • carol marshall
        I am so sorry to hear about the death of your little Tippy and your grief.It will get easier & you gave him a happy life.Im sure he is very happy now too & is
        Message 3 of 5 , Oct 22, 2009
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          I am so sorry to hear about the death of your little Tippy and your
          grief.It will get easier & you gave him a happy life.Im sure he is very
          happy now too & is looking down on you wishing you comfort
          <-----Original Message----->
          >From: James Dawson [jamesndawson@...]
          >Sent: 10/22/2009 2:13:01 AM
          >To: Libertarians_For_Animal_Rights@yahoogroups.com
          >Subject: Re: [Libertarians-Animal Rights] Tippy Has Died
          >
          >
          >My little Tipper J. died suddenly, Thursday, October 8, 2009.
          >
          >Tippy was a little white poodle dog my brother rescued from the street.
          I don't
          >know when this was for sure---probably not earlier than 1994, but maybe
          a year
          >or two later. This would have made him between 13 and 15 years old at
          his death.
          >
          >For weeks, I and my two brothers would see him as we drove down Tomki
          Road.
          >Like a little ghost who haunted the same spot of road, he would
          happily,
          >eagerly, run out to greet each approaching car, as if greeting a master
          coming
          >home. But his eager hope would always suddenly turn to fear each time,
          and he
          >would quickly turn around, and run back to the roadside bushes for
          safety. It
          >was heartbreaking.
          >
          >Several times my brother and I went down to the spot and tried to coax
          him with
          >food. But he was always much too frightened and nimble to catch. One
          day,
          >unexpectedly, my brother came home with him, all his fear completely
          gone, as he
          >happily and playfully ran around in circles. But for weeks, just the
          sight of a
          >cat out of the corner of his eye would make him scream in terror. His
          cold,
          >lonely ordeal, homeless on a country road on many a dark night, had
          apparently
          >scarred and traumatized him. It was some time before he recovered.
          >
          >I called Tippy by several nicknames, one being Tipper Stinker J. (the
          initial
          >standing for nothing in particular), and doted on him totally. His joy,
          was my
          >joy. Often, when my brother went on a walk, which Tippy, as all dogs,
          loved
          >with a great joy, and for some reason I couldn't come, he would come
          running
          >back to me. As much as he love his walks, as much as I tried to
          encourage him
          >to go without me, he wouldn't. He and I had a special bond.
          >
          >When I moved from California to Washington state this May, I had to
          leave Tippy
          >behind with my brother. His subdued silence, as I left him, seeming
          almost to
          >know the worst, absolutely killed me. I didn't know what the climate
          was for
          >animals in the town I was moving too. I didn't know how well he'd
          adapt, having
          >lived a far freer and rural life for so long. If I found out it was
          okay, maybe
          >I would send for Tippy. Sadly, that never happened.
          >
          >Though my brother did his best, he was too busy to take Tippy for the
          long walks
          >that made him so happy. Also, without any satisfaction, the possibility
          that
          >Tippy still remembered me and painfully missed me, tortured me, as it
          does this
          >very moment.
          >
          >A few days ago, Tippy was coughing one morning. When my brother came
          home from
          >town later that day, he found Tippy in a semi-coma. That night, he
          died.
          >
          >I knew long before that Tippy was getting old, and the day he left this
          world
          >would have to come soon. But somehow, I'd always hoped he'd be with us
          for much
          >longer. Tippy always had a problem with getting "foxtails", grass
          seeds, in his
          >ears, paws and teeth, which caused him terrible pain, and required
          frequent
          >trips to the veterinarian. He'd also developed back pain. Fortunately,
          we
          >discovered that glucosamine-chondroitin tablets alleviated this a lot,
          but
          >still, it was plain that Tippy's little body was just wearing out.
          >
          >I guess, I feel a sense of relief that he went quickly, that he didn't
          have to
          >suffer a lingering decline before his death---he, like me, was such a
          baby. But
          >in the past few days, even in my better and more positive moods, I will
          be
          >struck with sudden surges of intense grief that seem to last for hours,
          that I
          >can't get out of. I'm am literally sick with it.
          >
          >I can't get out of my mind the heartbreak Tippy may have felt when I
          never came
          >home. My brother did tell me on the phone that he was often cheerful
          and
          >playful for weeks before the end, so I hope I can come to the point of
          taking
          >some comfort in that.
          >
          >If Tippy continues to exist in some way, some form, I hope any
          unhappiness that
          >may have dwelled in his little heart, is completely washed away.
          >
          >Goodbye, little one. Be happy. Maybe we will be together again some
          day.
          >JND
          >
          >[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
          >
          >
          >
          >Messages in this topic (2) Reply (via web post) | Start a new topic
          >Messages | Files | Photos | Links | Database | Polls |
          >
          >=== message truncated ===


          <br><br><a href="http://toolbar.Care2.com">http://toolbar.Care2.com</a> Make your computer carbon-neutral (free).<br></br><a href="http://www.Care2.com">http://www.Care2.com</a> Green Living, Human Rights and more - 8 million members!

          [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
        • James Dawson
          Starchild, Carol,   Thanks very much for the kind words.   I m feeling a lot better, but it was rough going there for a while.   James ... From: Starchild
          Message 4 of 5 , Oct 27, 2009
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            Starchild, Carol,
             
            Thanks very much for the kind words.
             
            I'm feeling a lot better, but it was rough going there for a while.
             
            James


            --- On Wed, 10/21/09, Starchild <sfdreamer@...> wrote:


            From: Starchild <sfdreamer@...>
            Subject: Re: [Libertarians-Animal Rights] Tippy Has Died
            To: Libertarians_For_Animal_Rights@yahoogroups.com
            Date: Wednesday, October 21, 2009, 7:56 PM


             



            James,

            Beautiful message, and sorry for your loss. You humble me to have
            that much love for a dog, as did another recent story I received from
            my friend Veronica a few days ago. Here is that story and some photos
            of her dogs Blanco and Shekhina. Hopefully the pictures will appear
            properly.

            Love & Liberty,
            ((( starchild )))

            ----------

            ----------

            ----------

            Can You Help Blanco and Me?

            Dear Starchild,

            Blanco needed life-saving surgery a few days ago and choosing to save
            his life rather than euthanise him was a decision I didn't take
            lightly. In the final analysis, I refused to let monetary concerns
            determine matters of life and death. Instead, I let Blanco decide and
            his eyes were full of fire and a will to live.

            Now I am asking you if you can spare $10 to $25 to help me cover the
            approximately $5,000 in medical bills. If you can afford $50, I will
            gladly send you a free copy of one of my DVDs. And donations of $100
            or more will qualify for a free book and a free DVD.

            Thank you for taking the time to read this and if you can contribute
            even a small amount I would like to thank you personally with an old
            fashioned greeting card (in the mail). Please scroll down to read
            about Blanco's four year romance with Shekhina and what Blanco has
            taught me about life.

            Click here to help me help Blanco and to claim your free gift.

            ----------

            Help Me Help Blanco

            Click here to donate to Blanco's medical costs via PayPal.

            Or Mail your Gift to:

            Blanco
            % Veronica Monet
            228 Commercial Street
            #408
            Nevada City, CA 95959

            Please be sure to include your mailing address so I can send you your
            free gift or simply email me and I will verify your donation and send
            your free gift.

            $10 to $49: Thank you Card in the mail.
            $50 to $99: One Free DVD.
            $100 or more: One Free Book and One Free DVD.

            ----------

            I will never forget the first morning after Blanco discovered sex.
            When the three of us woke up that day, he let out a high pitched sound
            that could only be described as a scream for joy. I had never heard
            him make a sound like that. He couldn't wait for me to let them out
            the door so they could start having sex again. No breakfast thank you
            very much. Sex was the only thing on his mind today.

            Shekhina only went into heat every four or five months and then she
            was only receptive to sex for about ten days so it is understandable
            that Blanco and she would want to have as much sex as possible during
            that short window of opportunity. Over the course of a year, Blanco
            and Shekhina learned how to have sex through trial and error just like
            the rest of us do. And their relationship changed. Before sex, they
            cared about each other but not in the same way they cared about each
            other once sex became a part of their relationship. After sex, being
            separated from each other for even a few minutes became cause for
            concern. And whenever they were reunited, they always exchanged
            passionate kisses on the mouth.

            When Shekhina was in heat, Blanco would not allow any humans but me to
            pet her. He guarded his lover with every fiber of his being. There
            was an amorous neighbor dog who had a thing for Shekhina. The first
            time she went into heat, he came calling. His courtship was terribly
            sweet. Every morning when we awoke, he would be standing patiently
            and quietly in front of our gate. He never barked or whined. He just
            stood there with a lovesick look on his face. Once when we took our
            daily walk, he tracked us from a respectful distance. We turned to
            see him trailing us at a 75 feet distance. Shekhina was impressed and
            let out an affectionate whine as she started in his direction. I
            restrained her because I was in no mood for puppies. Blanco lunged
            toward the would-be suitor. Our Romeo trotted away peaceably despite
            Shekhina's pleading to the contrary.

            But the next morning he was waiting on the other side of the fence
            again. Blanco was not impressed and barked vociferously until the
            other male dog retreated. Shortly thereafter, Shekhina fell out of
            heat and the matter seemed moot. But Blanco was simply biding his time.

            One day as we were coming home from our daily walk, the neighbor dog
            happened to be on the same road minding his own business. The poor
            guy wasn't doing a thing and Shekhina wasn't even in heat. But Blanco
            saw his opportunity and took off running. He kicked the poor dog's
            ass all the way to his own front door step. Blanco had not forgotten
            the way he flirted with Shekhina the last time she was in heat. I was
            caught off guard because I had no idea Blanco would remember his past
            grievance from several months ago. And I certainly did not expect him
            to take such swift and final action about it. The other dog wasn't
            hurt thankfully. But he never dared to visit Shekhina again.

            For the Dog Lovers

            ----------

            One day I took Shekhina and Blanco for a drive around a man-made lake
            in the Tahoe National Forest. It is a popular resort for fishing,
            boating and house-boating. We stopped at the shore for a potty
            break. I took in the beauty while Blanco and Shekhina did what dogs
            do - take in the smells. Blanco was about six years old and in his
            entire life I had never seen him look up at the sky. I even tried to
            point up in an effort to get him to see a bird but to no avail. The
            only birds Blanco ever saw were sitting on the ground or floating on
            the water. He loved to chase big birds like seagulls when they were
            standing on the shore but if a bird was in flight, it didn't exist for
            him.

            This day, there were massive vultures circling the skies. They were
            flying fairly low but I assumed the grandeur of their presence would
            be lost upon my furry friends. I took a deep breath and imagined what
            it would be like if I had wings and could ride the thermals as these
            big birds do. Being protective of my little puppy, I also asked
            myself if there was any risk one of these huge birds might fly off
            with her. Of course not, I told myself. These birds of prey don't
            possess talons for grasping like eagles and hawks do. And any way,
            vultures prefer their meat to be thoroughly dead.

            While these various thoughts and emotions were coursing through my
            cluttered brain, I looked down to see Shekhina staring up into the
            sky. The look upon her face can only be described as awe. Her eyes
            were wide with wonder. Blanco was predictably oblivious as his nose
            scoured the ground for fascinating scents. But the sight of these
            great birds had stopped Shekhina in her tracks. She stood there for a
            few moments, motionless and full of curiosity.

            ----------

            Losing Shekhina transformed my life. I am acutely aware of how
            fleeting life is and as a result I question my daily routine and ask
            myself if this is how I want to spend my remaining time on earth. I
            am also careful to express my love for my family members because I no
            longer assume they will be alive tomorrow. I wish I could say I have
            abandoned my workaholic ways, but I still sit at my computer way too
            long and many is the night I wish Shekhina were here to nudge my hand
            from the computer mouse and insist I take a break.

            Blanco is a different dog too. He still misses Shekhina. I know this
            because he finds her scent occasionally and when he does, his body
            language softens and sometimes he will gently kiss whatever smells
            like her. It might be a spot on a chair or her dog collar, but the
            kisses he administers are unmistakably intended for her.

            The other day, I heard a couple crows cawing. I looked outside my
            office window to see raven sized birds sitting in the top of an 80
            foot pine. But what took my breath away was what was happening at the
            foot of the tree. Blanco was barking at the crows and charging the
            base of the tree with an impressive territorial display. His head was
            turned upward as he challenged the big birds. Blanco had learned to
            look up and see birds. And I knew who taught him to.
            Dog is the Piece of Us which is Missing

            ----------

            The World According to Dog

            1. Let the little ones win
            2. The toy is irrelevant - the game is what matters
            3. Words can cause confusion - communication is best when it is silent
            4. You can tell a friend from a foe if you just pay attention
            5. Friends enjoy just being together
            6. The pack is one organism
            7. There is always room for one more
            8. Jealousy is a basic emotion
            9. Love is universal
            10. Empathy was not invented by humans
            11. Pain sounds the same no matter how many legs you have
            12. It is very exciting to go somewhere and just as exciting to come
            home
            13. We all watch our loved ones leave with longing in our eyes
            14. We all worry when our loved ones are gone
            15. You should let your loved ones know how much you missed them
            16. You don't need arms to give someone a hug
            17. You don't need lips to give someone a kiss
            18. Just because I lick your face does NOT mean you can come inside my
            home
            19. If she/he gets one, I get one too
            20. Play fair
            21. Going to the bathroom and getting a drink of water are universal
            time-outs
            22. Fresh snow brings out the puppy in all of us

            ----------

            The Dead of Winter

            Winter snow melted minutes after
            you took your last breath
            You died just before
            the first signs of spring

            The robins have returned
            to herald each evening
            The tiniest tracks
            at the river's edge
            Trace the first steps of a new fawn
            at its mother's side
            Clusters of frogs compete
            with their cheerful chirping
            Flowers threaten to precede
            buds of bright green leaves

            The sun stabs my heart
            with its happiness
            I wish it would rain grey all day
            I am haunted and taunted
            With rebirth and new life
            While I weep
            For the fire in your eyes

            In memory of Shekhina who died February 18, 2008.
            Thank You for Caring
            Anything you can do to help me help Blanco will be greatly
            appreciated. Be sure to include your contact information so I can
            send you your gift as my way of thanking you for your generosity:

            $10 to $49: Thank You Card in the Mail
            $50 to $99: One Free DVD
            $100 or more: One Free DVD and One Free Book

            Click Here to Help Blanco Now!

            And thank you for caring.
            Sincerely,

            Veronica Monet
            for Blanco
            veronica@sexwithout shame.com
            888-903-0050

            On Oct 21, 2009, at 6:11 PM, James Dawson wrote:
            > My little Tipper J. died suddenly, Thursday, October 8, 2009.
            >
            > Tippy was a little white poodle dog my brother rescued from the
            > street. I don't know when this was for sure---probably not earlier
            > than 1994, but maybe a year or two later. This would have made him
            > between 13 and 15 years old at his death.
            >
            > For weeks, I and my two brothers would see him as we drove down
            > Tomki Road. Like a little ghost who haunted the same spot of road,
            > he would happily, eagerly, run out to greet each approaching car, as
            > if greeting a master coming home. But his eager hope would always
            > suddenly turn to fear each time, and he would quickly turn around,
            > and run back to the roadside bushes for safety. It was heartbreaking.
            >
            > Several times my brother and I went down to the spot and tried to
            > coax him with food. But he was always much too frightened and
            > nimble to catch. One day, unexpectedly, my brother came home with
            > him, all his fear completely gone, as he happily and playfully ran
            > around in circles. But for weeks, just the sight of a cat out of
            > the corner of his eye would make him scream in terror. His cold,
            > lonely ordeal, homeless on a country road on many a dark night, had
            > apparently scarred and traumatized him. It was some time before he
            > recovered.
            >
            > I called Tippy by several nicknames, one being Tipper Stinker J.
            > (the initial standing for nothing in particular), and doted on him
            > totally. His joy, was my joy. Often, when my brother went on a
            > walk, which Tippy, as all dogs, loved with a great joy, and for some
            > reason I couldn't come, he would come running back to me. As much
            > as he love his walks, as much as I tried to encourage him to go
            > without me, he wouldn't. He and I had a special bond.
            >
            > When I moved from California to Washington state this May, I had to
            > leave Tippy behind with my brother. His subdued silence, as I left
            > him, seeming almost to know the worst, absolutely killed me. I
            > didn't know what the climate was for animals in the town I was
            > moving too. I didn't know how well he'd adapt, having lived a far
            > freer and rural life for so long. If I found out it was okay, maybe
            > I would send for Tippy. Sadly, that never happened.
            >
            > Though my brother did his best, he was too busy to take Tippy for
            > the long walks that made him so happy. Also, without any
            > satisfaction, the possibility that Tippy still remembered me and
            > painfully missed me, tortured me, as it does this very moment.
            >
            > A few days ago, Tippy was coughing one morning. When my brother
            > came home from town later that day, he found Tippy in a semi-coma.
            > That night, he died.
            >
            > I knew long before that Tippy was getting old, and the day he left
            > this world would have to come soon. But somehow, I'd always hoped
            > he'd be with us for much longer. Tippy always had a problem with
            > getting "foxtails", grass seeds, in his ears, paws and teeth, which
            > caused him terrible pain, and required frequent trips to the
            > veterinarian. He'd also developed back pain. Fortunately, we
            > discovered that glucosamine- chondroitin tablets alleviated this a
            > lot, but still, it was plain that Tippy's little body was just
            > wearing out.
            >
            > I guess, I feel a sense of relief that he went quickly, that he
            > didn't have to suffer a lingering decline before his death---he,
            > like me, was such a baby. But in the past few days, even in my
            > better and more positive moods, I will be struck with sudden surges
            > of intense grief that seem to last for hours, that I can't get out
            > of. I'm am literally sick with it.
            >
            > I can't get out of my mind the heartbreak Tippy may have felt when I
            > never came home. My brother did tell me on the phone that he was
            > often cheerful and playful for weeks before the end, so I hope I can
            > come to the point of taking some comfort in that.
            >
            > If Tippy continues to exist in some way, some form, I hope any
            > unhappiness that may have dwelled in his little heart, is completely
            > washed away.
            >
            > Goodbye, little one. Be happy. Maybe we will be together again
            > some day.
            > JND
            >

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