Replies

Most Labradors rarely live past 12. Mine made it to 14+,

Always there will be a soft spot for Labradors in my heart. A couple of them helped me grow up, and I have rarely been without one.

Logan, my last, lived to be purdy close to 16, and his heart would have gone on longer! His back went out and he ended up paralyzed one day, completely without pain.... Most honest dog I ever saw.

Less than a week before he had to be put down, bandaged for a toe surgery he was scheduled for. I lost his lifelong friend there a month later. They didn't want to be apart.

FRetriever Logan at 4 years old.

Rest in Peace Logan, Nov 1988-March 25, 2003

Thanks for sharing your pics -- please let me share part of an email I sent to friends after my MicMac died in the Spring of 2001...

"The day after Mic died, my friends from the ranch in Cloudcroft stopped by, not knowing anything about what had happened. They were shocked to hear about Mic. Gloria said that I should bring him up to the ranch and bury him in the meadow across the canyon from the ranch house. That way, as she said, "she could keep an eye on him". I did that this morning. It is a beautiful spot. Flowers will bloom in the spring and summer, and the tall pines and fir trees will shade it from the summer heat. Just a couple of weeks ago, he was chasing me down the hill in the meadow as we went sledding. It's a perfect spot for him to rest! "

The vet sent me a card that sums up things perfectly:

"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we stll would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan... "The Once Again Prince" from "Separate Life Times" by Irving Towsend

I never thought I would say it, but after being out of the doggie bidness for almost 3 years I kinda miss it. About a year ago I dropped in at the vet clinic where I used to work. I was in the reception area yakking with a friend and a man and dog came in and the dog - he could only see me from the back - was barking. . . and barking. . . It was Max, a Golden I used to care for. He hadn't seen me in 2 years, yet he recognized me from behind. It's that kind of doggie love that I miss.