Dogs of Your Past -- Gone but Not Forgotten

I've only lost one dog, my childhood dog and best friend. He was an American Eskimo named Cody. My uncle's girlfriend bought him at a pet store, then left him with my uncle, and my Mom wanted him because my father wasn't around much and she was alone with me as a toddler. He was one and I was two. He died at 16, in his sleep.

I didn't have the easiest time of things as a child, and Cody was there, through everything. I loved him more than I loved my family and human friends.

In this picture I'm 13, he's 12. He stayed full of energy and had no health problems up until about 14 years old.


We're 7 and 6 here:

I don't have access to any pics of my first dog, a Pekingese (or mix) named Laci that we got from the shelter when I was 14. We did obedience classes and she was just a fun little dog, up for everything.

My next dog was a little elderly Yorkie, Alex, from the shelter I volunteered at. He was considered unadoptable because he was ten, so they were not going to put him up for adoption, but knew I wanted a Yorkie. His elderly owner lost her home (landlord sold it) and she could not take them with her. His female companion was also considered unadoptable and was put down before they called me. He ended up having a heart issue, and was later diagnosed as being diabetic. But he lived happily until 15

My Sheba was next. A lovely Basset I adopted when she was about a year and a half. The shelter director's son had given been given the dog by his girlfriend, but they'd broken up and she'd come to live with them. She lived with another dog and it was decided that they really only wanted to care for one dog, so the other dog was chosen to stay. She was a fabulous dog and a friend to all. We did obedience classes (though she started quite a bit later), she earned her CD and was trained through Open. By that time she was 8 though and was getting a little arthritis, so we chose to not let her compete with jumps. She dabbled in flyball, but we weren't competitive and the flyball group at our club was a bit snooty about people who wanted to do the classes for fun, so we stopped going to those.



Legend was next, my first Chow. Aside from being hit with really unfortunate hips, which he had surgery for, and being allergic to all things green (which we remedied by keeping him off grass and away from trees) he was perfect in pretty much every way. He went pretty much everywhere with me And each night we'd walk several miles at around 11 at night, to avoid the IL mugginess.
He loved the move to Arizona, but I'm sure that if asked he would have said he missed the snow


Sheba, Legend and the Hooligan


With baby Aesop


That brings us to the herd today

I'm sure this goes without saying, but I love the pictures of your basset <3

Well...this is a depressing topic for Christmas eve .
First was Missy, my childhood beagle mix. She was a good little dog but had severe separation anxiety..like went through crates and eventually glass windows.


Baxter was next...probably the first dog I took real interest in, taught tricks, walked him all over town. Maintenance guy left the gate open and he was hit by a car.


We got Sam after Baxter passed...through and through he was 'my' dog, I traipsed around hiking trails with him and Casey all through my teens. He was 9 when a mass ruptured in his spleen.


Finn, the troubled soul.


Casey we'd had since she was 5-6 weeks old, got her from the shelter. She's always been around and it's rough not having her around.


And I can't leave out my Kiki...I miss her so much, she was just my heart kitty. I plucked her out of a trailer park, she was FeLV+ and had a severe murmur. She passed away suddenly after two years.

I'm still a young'n (=P) so I don't really have many dogs in my past. But I dearly miss the ones I do have.

Blackie was our family's first dog ever. He is why I love Labradors. I really wish I had gotten him when I was older and could really appreciate having everything he had to offer...but I'm glad he was there for me growing up, too. Heck, I just wish he was still alive and well.



^ as a senior man

Loupie was our neighbor's dog, but she lived with us. She has given me a deep love of Malamutes. She was our romping buddy and watched over us like a mother hen. We always wanted her on our team when we played football, because she would come and stand on top of whoever was knocked down and not let the back up due to her wanting to give us kisses. Before we knew her name was Loupie, we called her "Licky". LOL


Brownie was a stray that found us and was Rose's mom. She was only with us for a few months (she was unfortunately hit by a car when the pups were about four weeks old), but she was a good girl. Very sweet, great with us kids. She would go mouse hunting with my brother, hated it when we left the house, and would herd our neighbor's cows.


And not really "our" dog, but Sadie played a big part in my life. We raised her for Leader Dogs for the Blind and she is now serving as a Guide Dog. Wish she had been our dog, though. She was so much like Blackie and cemented my love for Labs. Brilliant girl, and I still miss her to this day even though she's been gone for almost six years now.




And not a dog...but our very first pet, kitty Rush. Best cat ever. We got him when I was two. He grew up with me, my older brother, and survived the birth of three other children. He was a comforter, a teacher, and a playmate. I hope to one day have another cat as majestic as he was.

Not much to say about Molly other than she was the Best Dog Ever. My heart still aches for her every day. All I want is another dog like her.

There are two cats that meant a lot to me.

Like Siam. This was her going MEOW, PET ME.


And Ashten was awesome.


Benji was a special dog, even though he was annoying.


Sunny wasn't a personal dog, but I used to walk her all the time for her owner. She was a real sweetie.


And I can't forget Sooner, Daisy's momma. Sooner was a very good girl. Except when she got into the trash that one new years and ate all those chicken wing bones. And the time at that halloween party when she ate a huge bag of hot dogs whole and then puked them up on the living room floor. Daisy really is Sooner's daughter. XD

I can't forget my Grimmy dog. I adopted him from my workplace after he was surrendered as a wee tot with Parvo. His original name was Moses...

He was always a happy, happy dog..even if you scolded him, he'd be smiling a split second later. He loved everyone. He was always the healthiest dog, which is why it came as such a shock when he developed ITP. He succumbed in spite of hospitalization at a referral center and a transfusion

She was a great girl We'll have a Basset again one day

Max was my childhood dog and the reason for my love of animals today. He was such a good boy, loved kids, was just so sweet and affectionate, you could literally pet him for hours and he would love every second. And as soon as you'd stop petting him he'd look up at you and start wagging his tail asking for more. He would spend hours in the yard sitting proudly on his picnic table (people in the neighborhood called him the picnic table dog) watching the world go by, or he'd lie on the grass in a patch of sun, he loved basking in it. He died almost 6 years ago, shortly after I joined the forum here. I wish he had been around long enough to benefit from all I learned here.





He LOVED Christmas (and we loved watching him love Christmas, my 28 year old brother still brings it up every Christmas, asking if we remember how excited he'd get)

Cj (the first one) was a toy poodle. my family got a few years before i was born. No idea what her age was when she died, she was a rescue they got and were not sure on her age, she was a adult, atleast 5 when my family got her. She lived threw 4 years of me and passed away in 1989. She was a wonderful family dog. and my shadow for 4 years, she adored me, and I her. I still remember being on the stairs playing with her.



Then came Lassie (bought her and she was named angelica, I hated it and kept calling her Lassie so it stuck. I was 4 lol) She was born in 1989. and lived until a tumr took her in 2002. She was my BFF growing up (heck all my dogs were). Bt she adored me, and really didnt have much use for my 2 brothers. She actuall gave them some good bites growing up. But would never lay a tooth on me lol. I was the only one that she le brush her as well. she was a good dog (for me). I really miss the old girl. I have her dog tags on my key chain still. I was the one who took her to the vet and had her PTS. She taught me the biggest lesson in life, true heart break.

Then came CJ (the second) in 1990. She too was a toy poodle. I named after my first friend. This dog was the sweetest dog that ever lived. she met NO stranger. was 100% blind by age 6. yet still loved on every one that gave her half a chance. She was truly a wonderful dog. Was PTS in 2003

Then in 1992 came Sweetie, CJs accident litter, that resulted in 2 puppies, only one live one. So we kept Sweetie (I dont know why my family kept letting me name the pets lol) He was a grand old soul. hated most things in life, prefered to sit on the couch with my grandpa. He was the opposite of his mum, and really didnt care for people or other dogs. had about 4 or 5 bite records in his time. But he would never lay a hand on his "kids" (my brothers and I) He was PTS in 2004

A picture of all 3. Sweetie was the black one, CJ the aprocote and Lassie the collie on the floor.
All seniors in this photo. probably a year before Lassie went


Lassie, my brother and I in 1990


Blaze sweetie and midnight the rabbit (she passed away in 05ish) picture was taken in 03


CJ the 2nd and I in 1989. in a department store, who knows why I was allowed to bring her with us lol or why we posed for a picture


lassie and I 1989

oh memory lane bitter sweet it is...

We had Happy Express when I was a kid. Big collie, great dog, perfect with kids which was good since my mom did home daycare. He just loved kids and I loved him. He would let you lay your head on him like a pillow and he just loved it. We used to lay on him and read him books and he would just lay there wagging his tail. He lived a long time but got really sick... he got some kind of immune disease, I remember coming home and walking the yard with him to see if he had thrown up and how often we would find piles of vomit. He got flies all over him because he wouldn't even move to keep them off him and they got in his fur and made him such a mess, he had to be shaved down into a lion cut so his infected skin could breathe to heal. Finally my dad took him in to the vet and when the vet told him he just wasn't going to get any better he decided to put him down.
The story they told me and my sister was that my dad and the vet left the room and when they came back in Happy had died. My dad thought if we knew he put him down we would hate him so they lied. I didn't hear the real story until I was in middle school... I went to work with my grandma for a "take your daughter to work day" and was drawing pictures of dogs, and my grandma was telling a co-worker about how I liked dogs and we had one and my dad had him put down. I didn't say anything to her but came home and went to my mom like "What????"

My dad thought there would never be another dog as good as Happy, so even though my sister and I wanted another dog, he wouldn't get one. One year I wrote a letter to Santa, something along the lines of "Can you please bring me a puppy, and if you can't bring me a puppy, can you please bring my dog Happy back? He died and I miss him." My dad said to my mom "I guess I have to get her a puppy." But he didn't. =P

SO when my sister moved out she almost immediately went and got herself a sheltie (the "apartment collie") and named him Happy. Happy Conquistador - she picked the first name, her husband (now ex) picked the middle name. He was a TERRIBLE puppy, I stayed with my sister for Spring Break after she brought him home. HATED that puppy so much and my last night there I told him "I'm NOT going to miss YOU." He proceeded to curl up on my feet that night and sleep there. **** dog.
My sister didn't really know any better so she just got Happy from an ad in the paper, and she lived in St. Louis at the time. We are pretty sure he came from a Missouri puppy mill. Happy was HUGE even though he was the runt of the litter, he had hip issues and walked funny though we blamed it on him breaking his leg as a puppy, he was neurotic... not well built mentally or physically. He had a heart murmur. He threw up a lot, mostly if you didn't feed him "on time" but sometimes just to puke up bile. He was terrified of most other dogs and spent a long time after moving back in here with baby Auggie running AWAY from the puppy. He would sigh the most pathetic sighs. In the car he would whine a horrible, high pitched whine that we finally resorted to cranking the stereo REALLY loud just to drown him out. He would throw the water bowl when it was empty... not just paw at it, THROW it. He sat on steps like a person - all four feet on the floor, but his butt sitting two steps up.
I loved him despite everything, terrible dog that he was. He was special in being and he was special in my heart. He may have belonged to my sister but he was my dog too. I helped raise him as a puppy. I cared for him while my sister was here and for months when her dogs lived here without her. I miss him terribly.


And then Kota. Kota my sister adopted out of a bad situation "for my mom," and when my dad said no she kept him. He was an old man who had been found wandering the streets, abandoned by his former owners and eating out of garbage cans. He never quit eating out of garbage cans. He also liked to steal any food you left out, he would systematically go through the house after you left to check all surfaces for food or even cans of soda. One day my sister left and Kota didn't realize I was still home, in my parent's office. Happy came running in, flipping out. I asked him what was wrong, he kept looking out in the other room nervously. I heard a "thunk" and got up to go see what was freaking Happy out... Kota had knocked a Mt. Dew can off a table and was busy drinking out of it as it spilled on the floor when he saw me. WHOOPS! (Happy was also a horrible tattle-tale.)
He was Auggie's hero but I've related that story many times I think.


I miss my grumpy old man. I keep calling Auggie "grumpy old man" now as a homage, but man, I don't think there will ever be a grumpier old man than Kota, haha.


ETA: I read halfway through this thread and cried reading people's posts, cried writing this, went back and finished reading... just so many tears.

Farfel. We got him just before my 9th birthday. He was the runt of the litter, but ended up being the biggest Beagle I've ever seen, about 40 pounds and rock hard. He wasn't exactly an easy dog to deal with, he was pretty stubborn, and was an escape artist, and of course, he made a lot of noise. Loved to play tug of war his entire life, but hated to be hugged or kissed. Dropped dead just short of his 12th birthday.

Joe is the yellow Lab in this pic, not long before he was gone. Never really healthy, he was a hermaphrodite, and developed severe arthritis at a young age, possibly due to Lime's Disease. The black dog is Blackie, Farfel's last daughter, born only a few months before he died, who was a bit "off" to say the least. She was a bird's worst nightmare, she ate hundreds of them over the years, her only talent was catching them and eating them. Gus is the third dog in the pic, about 3 years old.

I got talked into taking Gus by one of my Vet's stepdaughters, who guilted me into "trying him out". I had him for 14 years+. He was a Pit mix of some kind, insanely strong and an amazingly compact 75 pounds, a lot of it being his head. The pics never show just how big it was.

When Gus went, my plans for Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs were derailed when a friend's ex-gf had 13 pups to find homes for. King and Molly were part of that crazy bunch. Here is my mom holding them when they were little. King ruled Molly like a little Hitler, inside the house, outside, Molly was the boss, a totally different dog than she was inside. She killed dozens of animals that invaded her yard over the years. She had amazing skills. King killed a skunk once, it was his only takedown.

King about 7 years old, watching the neighbor's dog Tasha, one of his favorites, after Molly had scared her out of the yard. Eventually, he finally stopped her from messing with Tasha. It's the only time he ever took charge outside, and it totally stunned Molly. I lost Molly on Nov 12th, and I lost him on Dec 13, ten days before his 14th birthday. He was the smartest, most stubborn, most independent dog I ever had. And by far, the most amusing.