It's just a dog.

[Cono Este]

Life sucks without a dog.

I’m walking myself.


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[liv2ski]

I have been looking at the pitbull rescue sites a lot lately, most likely we will have a new snorking pig like dog by spring.

My condolences to everyone who has lost a friend in this thread

Nice, oddly, as a guy that really likes the wolfy looking dogs, I have always had a soft spot (likely in my head) for pitties. I have meet some of the sweetest darn Pits in my journeys. I have always said it isn't the breed, but the God Damn people that fuck them up. Looking forward to seeing your next pup in the Doggie Stoke thread.

[Marshall Tucker]

no reason to post here other than I read this the other day. starts out kinda ridcously sappy but if you can get through the last few sentances with a dry eye you're better than me.

WARNING. contains very faint hints of religion.

SEAN OF THE SOUTH
ELLIE MAE


It’s nighttime. I am writing you from your favorite beach, Sweetie. The sands go on for miles, the purple sky is cloudless. The Gulf of Mexico is so vast it hurts.

Fort Pickens National Park looks magnificent tonight.

This was our beach. At least, that’s what I’m calling it. It wasn’t literally ours. It belongs to everyone in Pensacola Beach, Florida. No, it belongs to everyone in America.

Well, actually, if we’re getting technical here, this beach belongs to the National Park Service, which is overseen by the United States Department of the Interior and is henceforth property of the U.S. government.

But, since the government uses citizen tax dollars to maintain this federal land and pay its staff of allegedly friendly park rangers a salary with benefits, yeah, this beach is basically mine.

Anyway, I’m getting off track.

When we first met, you were a bloodhound, with crooked teeth and droopy eyes. I loved you from the beginning. And this beach was your favorite place on earth.

For many years, every weekend I’d travel to Pensacola to play pitiful bar music at local dives. I didn’t earn much money, but every little bit helped. You traveled with me.

By day, I worked menial jobs. And at night I played music for people who held brown bottles and wanted to dance to “SOMETHING FUN!”

That’s what all drunken dancers say. “Hey, you with the gee-tar! PLAY SOMETHING FUN, DUDE!”

Then some guy in the crowd raises a beer and shouts, “‘Freebird!’” and laughs until he loses all bladder control.

You and I would spend the weekends camping at Fort Pickens for only sixteen bucks per night. We’d stay here together. And we’d rough it.

I cooked meals over a propane burner, and washed our plates with a waterhose. We bathed in public showers, and I did laundry in the Gulf of Mexico with a bottle of detergent. This was our place. The price was right for a poor man, and you couldn’t beat the view.

In the evenings, we left the campsite and went to gigs. You rode shotgun. And while I would be in some beer joint, playing “SOMETHING FUN!” with a band of talented musicians who all pretty much lived with their girlfriends and drove their moms’ minivans, you slept. You would curl up in my passenger seat. Windows rolled down.

On my breaks, I would visit my truck only to find cooks, waitresses, and dishwashers, smoking cigarettes around my vehicle. They were running their hands along your silky coat.

You had that effect on people.

“I dig your dog,” a cook said once. “What’s her name?”

“Ellie Mae.”

“Does she like bacon?”

“Does a one-legged duck swim in circles?”

I’d finally get off work at 2 A.M. The cooks would send us home with two Styrofoam boxes. Spaghetti for me; double-decker hamburger for you—extra bacon.

We’d eat supper together on this beach beneath the stars. We’d stare at the moon. The sound of the waves would serenade us.

Then, we’d return to our campsite, fall asleep, wake up at noon the next day, and do it all over again.

That was our life. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was ours.

I can’t visit this place without remembering how much you loved it here. The way you sprinted across this sand. Your mouth slung open. The way you would swim in this water.

The way we fell asleep together. Your head on my pillow. You snoring. You sleeping on top my head. You, producing smells that could make hardened Baptists take the name of Bill Gaither in vain.

It all seems like a fairytale now, the way I’m telling it. The truth is, it probably wasn’t nearly as beautiful as I remember.

To the rest of the world, we were just some broke guy and his dog. But to me, we were really something. You guided me into adulthood. You loved me. You made me feel important. That was your gift to me.

For my whole life, you see, I’ve felt unimportant, and overlooked, and orphaned. Confidence was a finite resource. Family stability was a myth. I’m not complaining because life made me who I am. And life also led me to you.

But tonight, I am on your beach, looking at your stars, and I miss you. I can hear a loud guitar coming from a beach bar, miles away. I’m glad I’m not the one playing it.

Maybe one day we’ll be together again. Maybe in a place with permanent daytime, where nobody asks the band to play “Freebird.” Where a man and his best friend can run the Shores of Eternity for ten thousand years, only to find out they have no less days than when they first begun. I’d like that.

It’s getting late. I’d better get inside now. I enjoyed talking to you again.

Goodnight, Ellie Mae.

[Supermoon]

My sister-in-law and BIL had to put down both of their dogs this week. They were both nearing the end, and so close to each other that they didn't have the heart to separate them. They both showed they were ready over the weekend, and crossed the rainbow bridge together.

[smmokan]

Oh man, that sucks. We lost our two just over a year apart and that was hard enough.

[skiJ]

no reason to post here other than I read this the other day. starts out kinda ridcously sappy but if you can get through the last few sentances with a dry eye you're better than me.

WARNING. contains very faint hints of religion.

SEAN OF THE SOUTH
ELLIE MAE


It’s nighttime. I am writing you from your favorite beach, Sweetie. The sands go on for miles, the purple sky is cloudless. The Gulf of Mexico is so vast it hurts.

Fort Pickens National Park looks magnificent tonight.

This was our beach. At least, that’s what I’m calling it. It wasn’t literally ours. It belongs to everyone in Pensacola Beach, Florida. No, it belongs to everyone in America.

Well, actually, if we’re getting technical here, this beach belongs to the National Park Service, which is overseen by the United States Department of the Interior and is henceforth property of the U.S. government.

But, since the government uses citizen tax dollars to maintain this federal land and pay its staff of allegedly friendly park rangers a salary with benefits, yeah, this beach is basically mine.

Anyway, I’m getting off track.

When we first met, you were a bloodhound, with crooked teeth and droopy eyes. I loved you from the beginning. And this beach was your favorite place on earth.

For many years, every weekend I’d travel to Pensacola to play pitiful bar music at local dives. I didn’t earn much money, but every little bit helped. You traveled with me.

By day, I worked menial jobs. And at night I played music for people who held brown bottles and wanted to dance to “SOMETHING FUN!”

That’s what all drunken dancers say. “Hey, you with the gee-tar! PLAY SOMETHING FUN, DUDE!”

Then some guy in the crowd raises a beer and shouts, “‘Freebird!’” and laughs until he loses all bladder control.

You and I would spend the weekends camping at Fort Pickens for only sixteen bucks per night. We’d stay here together. And we’d rough it.

I cooked meals over a propane burner, and washed our plates with a waterhose. We bathed in public showers, and I did laundry in the Gulf of Mexico with a bottle of detergent. This was our place. The price was right for a poor man, and you couldn’t beat the view.

In the evenings, we left the campsite and went to gigs. You rode shotgun. And while I would be in some beer joint, playing “SOMETHING FUN!” with a band of talented musicians who all pretty much lived with their girlfriends and drove their moms’ minivans, you slept. You would curl up in my passenger seat. Windows rolled down.

On my breaks, I would visit my truck only to find cooks, waitresses, and dishwashers, smoking cigarettes around my vehicle. They were running their hands along your silky coat.

You had that effect on people.

“I dig your dog,” a cook said once. “What’s her name?”

“Ellie Mae.”

“Does she like bacon?”

“Does a one-legged duck swim in circles?”

I’d finally get off work at 2 A.M. The cooks would send us home with two Styrofoam boxes. Spaghetti for me; double-decker hamburger for you—extra bacon.

We’d eat supper together on this beach beneath the stars. We’d stare at the moon. The sound of the waves would serenade us.

Then, we’d return to our campsite, fall asleep, wake up at noon the next day, and do it all over again.

That was our life. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was ours.

I can’t visit this place without remembering how much you loved it here. The way you sprinted across this sand. Your mouth slung open. The way you would swim in this water.

The way we fell asleep together. Your head on my pillow. You snoring. You sleeping on top my head. You, producing smells that could make hardened Baptists take the name of Bill Gaither in vain.

It all seems like a fairytale now, the way I’m telling it. The truth is, it probably wasn’t nearly as beautiful as I remember.

To the rest of the world, we were just some broke guy and his dog. But to me, we were really something. You guided me into adulthood. You loved me. You made me feel important. That was your gift to me.

For my whole life, you see, I’ve felt unimportant, and overlooked, and orphaned. Confidence was a finite resource. Family stability was a myth. I’m not complaining because life made me who I am. And life also led me to you.

But tonight, I am on your beach, looking at your stars, and I miss you. I can hear a loud guitar coming from a beach bar, miles away. I’m glad I’m not the one playing it.

Maybe one day we’ll be together again. Maybe in a place with permanent daytime, where nobody asks the band to play “Freebird.” Where a man and his best friend can run the Shores of Eternity for ten thousand years, only to find out they have no less days than when they first begun. I’d like that.

It’s getting late. I’d better get inside now. I enjoyed talking to you again.

Goodnight, Ellie Mae.

Nice tribute, MarshallTucker … (!)


wherever 'Blue' is, that's my 'heaven' ( If our canine companions are not in (heaven), it is no place for me. ) …


… carry On... (!) tj

[byates1]

sadness.

carried my mom's(and family's) 16 yr old lab down today

never fun, and not fun watching your mom cry

by Lil. sadness. forward..

[liv2ski]

Dogs, in my mind they are the very best a person can hope to be. When a good one touches your heart, it is so hard to let them go, as you know the very best you can be is so easy for just a dog. My best wishes to all who who have had the love of a dog and lost them for now.

[ACH]

Dogs, in my mind they are the very best a person can hope to be. When a good one touches your heart, it is so hard to let them go, as you know the very best you can be is so easy for just a dog. My best wishes to all who who have had the love of a dog and lost them for now.

Word...

Sorry for your loss byates1

[byates1]

part of being on point, is being where you need to be.

somehow, i got there.

thank you for the well wishes.

been a tough day for mom, i got it, no prob

[Phall]

We're having to put my girlfriends dog down this afternoon. Ran out of incontinence meds the other day which helped open our eyes to how bad it was, blood in the urine, tired, panting. Shes 13 and lived a really good long life. We've been preparing for this in some way shape or form since July, and had the appointment on the books since last Saturday. This week has been hell for both of us as she has kept going back in and out of being fine, then pissing everywhere. Working from home today we've been showering her in treats and snacks. Longest day of my life. I'll miss you Daisy.
EDIT: I've tried to rotate these 3 times on my computer, but they aren't cooperating.

[mcski]

That's a good dog!

[liv2ski]

That's a good dog!

I love Golden's, one of my favorite breeds for sure. Tears over your, loss take care.

[ACH]

I'm sorry Phall - vibes man.

[meeb69]

We put our ten year old black lab down this morning. He was sledding with the kids Wednesday, stopped eating Thursday, took him in today and he had an inoperable mass in his abdomen that was hemorrhaging. We are pretty devastated. I walked him morning and evening and estimate we spent 3-4,000 hours together, just the two of us. He came on any vacation we didn’t fly to. Grateful that we included him this way. Kind of still in shock right now. First pic is in Bayfield, WI when he was a pup. Second one is in our neighborhood last year.

[FussyDutchman]

Vibes to both of you, beautiful dogs!

[smmokan]

Oh man, I’m so sorry meeb69. He looked like quite the handsome and lucky old man.


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[TNKen]

Rough week in the doggy owner's worlds. VIbes and prayers to all.

[Cono Este]

Vibes to all.

It’s been almost 3 months since I put Kip down. Still think I hear him sometimes. Hard to believe he is gone, but life goes on, it always does.


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[Supermoon]

Vibes to Phall and Meebs. They looked like great pups.

[retirwntm]

Fuck. Vibes guys. I’m putting down our 13 yo vizla Friday. Lots of good years but it seems like hollow words right now. We’re trying to steel ourselves for the day.


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[Sirshredalot]

Seems like some good doggos hit the end of their line in this thread lately. Vibes to all.

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[meeb69]

Fuck. Vibes guys. I’m putting down our 13 yo vizla Friday. Lots of good years but it seems like hollow words right now. We’re trying to steel ourselves for the day.


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Vibes to you. Tough couple days. Tell your pup some stories about all the good times. We never got to take ours home. Telling my 6 yo son was the worst.

[liv2ski]

Vibes to all.

It’s been almost 3 months some I put Kip down. Still think I hear him sometimes. Hard to believe he is gone, but life goes on, it always does.


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Cono, when my Shadow passed, my wife suggested we wait a year before getting another dog. I made it maybe 3 months. I couldn't sleep, I was a f***in wreck. Once I found Gunther, I was not going to be denied. I jope you do better than i did

[Cono Este]

I’ve got a few more yrs in the Midwest, so I like the ease of traveling. But if I find a sweet German Shepard to adopt I will.


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