|
To Our Beloved Pets:
The Dandelion Fund
Dan-the-Cat
and Dr. Warren met in Northern
California the year she graduated college. Dan’s first job
was keeping mice away from a country store called Dandelion. When the store closed,
Dandelion Dan moved in with Natalie. She worked in the same outdoor mall, and
they had come to know one another while bird watching during their lunch breaks. These kindred spirits quickly developed a
magnificent bond. A couple of years later, for no apparent reason, they moved
to Colorado in a rented Ford van loaded with their stuff.
After
meandering in Denver for a bit, they determined veterinary
school to be their calling. Dan studied diligently with Natalie. Sometimes he kept the text book pages warm and protected while she tried to read them, but most often he
rapidly flipped through the pages himself, since her reading pace clearly lagged behind his.
To relax, they gardened together and spent time with the horse they kept on their property.
Dan
and his girl moved many times over their 10 years together – the typical lifestyle of a perpetual student and her trusted
companion.
“Home is where Dan-the-Cat is,” Natalie used
to say.
But,
when vet school was coming to an end, and Dr. Natalie was entering a new phase of life, Dan’s work was done. During the winter of senior year, Dan started having seizures. After
an extensive workup (including a “CAT scan”), an inoperable brain tumor was diagnosed. Dan-the-Cat was put to sleep shortly thereafter. Two weeks
later, when Natalie drew up the courage to pay her bill at the Colorado State University Veterinary Teaching Hospital, she
shed a new set of tears. Dr. Steve Withrow, Oncology Department Head, had paid
the entire bill from his reserve fund. It was then that Dr. Warren resolved to
forever work to pay back the gift that had been given in respect to her love of Dan-the-Cat.
And
so, the Dandelion Fund was created.
For
every patient’s life that comes to a close, Metropolitan
Veterinary Hospital contributes
to the Fund. The hospital also shares a portion of its annual profit with the
Fund. When the Met Vet staff recognizes true crisis in one of its client-patient
relationships, they have the opportunity to contribute a portion of the Dandelion Fund to help ease the financial burden.
Please
contribute, when you are able, and know that you, too, are paying respect to the Human-Animal Bond and all of the Dan-the-Cats
of our community.
Our heartache over the loss of D.G. is so sad. Thank you
for gently helping us make our decision to let her go before we had to witness her suffering. We will miss her. Thanks for
your caring. Art and Sherry Clark
The Jeffrey Story:
Baja Animal Sanctuary in Mexico is a non-profit no-kill shelter that houses as many as 300 dogs and 75 cats
at times. Animals are only euthanized if they dying or in terrible pain. If a dog or cat is not adoptable they remain
at the shelter to live out their lives among friends with food, shelter, and love. Each day, Mexican
authorities in Tijuana pick up approximately 150 stray
dogs. Each dog is given three days to be claimed or adopted before being electrocuted in a chain link cage. There
is no peaceful euthanasia in the TJ pound. Baja is authorized to enter the pound one day each week and remove three
dogs for the shelter, hopefully to be adopted into loving families. The Jeffrey is one of those dogs pulled from chain
cage the day before he was scheduled to die (who wouldn't adopt a dog with that story?!).

The Jeffrey was brought across
the US/Mexico border into San Diego in August of 2001 with several other animals for an adoption day at a local pet
store. That adoption day happened to be August 11th, the day after my 25th birthday, which I had not been terribly excited
about. As Justin and I drove from his bachelor apartment in San Clemente to mine in San Diego for the weekend, we stopped to run in for cat food and left
with The Jeffrey--my best birthday gift ever. Never mind the fact that neither my apartment, nor Justin's allowed
dogs, or that I worked full-time and went to school in the evenings more than an hour from home, or that we lived well over
an hour drive apart. It wasn't the most rational of decisions. But he had giant, stand-up bat-wing ears!
And puppy breath! And a round puppy tummy! And he made little whimpering noises as I held him (sigh). The
Baja volunteers promised us that he wouldn't even grow to more than 30 or 35 lbs (I often wonder if they laughed as we walked
away). But it all worked out. With some quick thinking and a little bending of the truth,
we managed to talk my apartment manager into allowing us to keep the tiny puppy while we looked for another place
to live. Soon we moved into our very own pet-friendly house and Justin's dog Matchbox, who had been staying with
family, joined us. The Jeffrey did not stop growing at 30 lbs. Or even 40 lbs. His
last weigh-in was just over 80 lbs. (and he's a bit fat, ahem). There is a serious gas problem--it doesn't just
fill the room, it sucks the air from the room. Due to lack of socialization during that critical window of puppy-hood,
The Jeffrey has aggression problems in certain instances, despite our diligence in taking him absolutely everywhere and exposing
him to everything. Now he has bladder stones and requires a prescription diet and monitoring. But he has finally beaten
the mange that plagued him for several years, and I've never seen a dog that relaxes as much as this one, which makes
him a terrible bed hog. And that's why we love him. Thanks again for taking such great care
of him during his "stones" episode. This vet experience has been the best he has ever had, very low stress and no growling,
which is HUGE for The Jeffrey. I know his health is in the very best hands. -Naomi Carleton
A poem
for Mihn – you are missed. 8/30/2006
The
House Dog's Grave (Haig, an English bulldog)
I've changed
my ways a little; I cannot now Run with you in the evenings along the shore, Except in a kind of dream; and you, if
you dream a moment, You see me there.
So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door Where I used to scratch
to go out or in, And you'd soon open; leave on the kitchen floor The marks of my drinking-pan.
I cannot lie by
your fire as I used to do On the warm stone, Nor at the foot of your bed; no, all the night through I lie alone.
But
your kind thought has laid me less than six feet Outside your window where firelight so often plays, And where you sit
to read--and I fear often grieving for me-- Every night your lamplight lies on my place.
You, man and woman, live
so long, it is hard To think of you ever dying A little dog would get tired, living so long. I hope than when you
are lying
Under the ground like me your lives will appear As good and joyful as mine. No, dear, that's too much
hope: you are not so well cared for As I have been.
And never have known the passionate undivided Fidelities
that I knew. Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided. . . . But to me you were true.
You were never
masters, but friends. I was your friend. I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures To the end and far past
the end. If this is my end, I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.
Robinson Jeffers, 1941
* * *
On behalf of Sara and Guppy - this poem is dedicated
to Mittens the cat
Cat Poem
They will not go quietly, the cats who've shared our lives. In subtle ways they let us know their
spirit still survives.
Old habits still make us think we hear a meow at the door. Or step back when we drop a
tasty morsel on the floor.
Our feet still go around the place the food dish used to be, And, sometimes, coming
home at night, we miss them terribly.
And although time may bring new friends and a new food dish to fill, That
one place in our hearts belongs to them. . . and always will.
- Linda Barnes
* * *
|
|
|
|
 |