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Excerpt from a Dog’s Diary:

8:00 am – Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am – A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am – A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm – Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm – Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm – Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm – Milk Bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm – Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm – Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!


Excerpt from a Cat’s Diary:

Day 983 of my captivity…

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets.

Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a ‘good little hunter’ I am. Bastards.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of ‘allergies.’ I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow — but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released – and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now.

  • I could walk around the yard barefoot in safety.
  • My house could be carpeted instead of tiled and laminated.
  • All surfaces, clothing, furniture, and cars would be free of hair.
  • When the doorbell rings, it wouldn’t sound like a kennel.
  • When the doorbell rings, I could get to the door without wading through fuzzy bodies who beat me there.
  • I could sit on the couch and my bed the way I wanted, with out taking into consideration how much space several fur bodies would need to get comfortable.
  • I would have money, and no guilt to go on a real vacation.
  • I would not be on a first-name basis with 6 veterinarians, as I put their yet unborn grand-kids through college.
  • The most used words in my vocabulary would not be: out, sit, down, come, no, stay, and leave it ALONE.
  • My house would not be cordoned off into zones with baby gates or barriers.
  • I would not talk ‘baby talk’. ‘Eat your din din’. ‘Yummy yummy for the tummy’.
  • My house would not look like a day care center, toys everywhere.
  • My pockets would not contain things like poop bags, treats and an extra leash.
  • I would no longer have to spell the words B-A-L-L,, W-A-L-K,, T-R-E-A-T, O-U-T,, G-O,, R-I-D-E,, C-O-O-K-I-E
  • I would not have as many leaves INSIDE my house as outside.
  • I would not look strangely at people who think having ONE dog/cat ties them down too much.
  • I would not be as happy!

These are my beloved furkids.

Honey (wearing the kilt I made for her) is ten years old, today.

Her registered name is ‘Almost an Angel’s Kitty’.  I got her from a friend whose husband died and she could not take two dogs with her to her new residence. That was 9 1/2 years ago.

This calico is Samantha and she is 20 years old.

I have had her since she was two.  She is very lovingly demanding. I don’t know how much longer she will be with us as she has cancer.

The next yorkie is Niji (which measn ‘friend’ in the Ojibway language).

He was a rescue about a year ago and is around 9 years old. I’m not sure of my pets’ birthdays (except Honey) so I age them on the 1st of January, like horses are aged. He had two owners before I got him and was sorley neglected. I took him to the vet when I got him and he had to have 22 teeth removed. My poor almost toothless baby. He has become physically and emotionaly attached to me. I don’t think he is up for adoption, at this point, so I may be his forever owner, now, which is fine with me.

This one is Mariah. She is half Himalayan and half Manx and very big.

She is one of the most affectionate cats I have ever had. She is 5 years old (I think). I got both cats from the local shelter where I volunteer.

Submitted by Shaaron from Barrie, Ontario

First came Rilo. She’s our black and white rat terrier/chihuahua mix.

When the people I got her from placed her in my arms, she immediately curled up into my hair. On the ride home, she had her head on my chest and just looked into my eyes the entire time. She was MINE.

When I come home, she’s so happy, her whole body wags! She curls up with me when I cry, she’s with me when I’m lonely, she listens when I speak to her and has these eyes that just say to me, “I know, Mom, I’m here.” I don’t think I could have made it with my husband being gone (he’s USAF) without her. She’s my happy-go-lucky, spunky dog, she’s my alarm, she’s my warmth under the covers, she’s my go-to-gal for walks. And she’s MINE.  She is my baby.

Next came Otis, our pit bull/korgi mix.

When we moved to New Mexico, Rilo became sad and overweight not being around any other dogs. I decided to convince my husband to go to the shelter and get another dog. We went, and my husband wanted a boxer, but the boxer lunged at us, so that was out. Then we saw Otis. He was this energetic, sweet, floppy eared puppy that was just dying for us to open the gate and take him home…so we did.

Since then, he has been my cuddle bug, my protecter on walks (loose dogs have actually tried to attack me, and Otis has kept them at bay), protected me against a possible intruder (growling and lunging at the door…he has never done that before or since the men came to my door while my husband was gone.), he’s my pillow, the easiest dog to hug, and my tissue for tears. He’s my bubba.

Finally, came our sweet kitty, Margot.

I went to a fashion show that was raising money for the local rescue groups in town.  I had no intentions of taking any animals home, I just wanted to show my support.  I looked in the kitten cage expecting to play with the little ones a bit when I saw her, I had to have her.  I told the woman to save her for me and called my husband.  I took her home.

Since that day, she’s charmed everyone who meets her, even my friends who are self-proclaimed cat haters.  She lets me hold her like a baby, and lays in the sink while I brush my teeth.  She’s the sweetest cat in the world and loves to cuddle with the dogs in patches of sun.

These are my four legged loves.

Submitted by Danielle


First came Abby.

We picked her out at the breeders when she was only 2 weeks old. She has always been at least 1 step ahead of us in her training, but at last she has settled down to be a wonderful dog at age 9.


Then when Abby was 2, we adopted Jackie.

Jackie had been held at the Toledo Humane Society for 8 months prior to coming up for adoption, because she was evidence in a cruelty case. We adopated her around age 11 and she is now 18 + years old and can no longer hear. She is very quiet and dignified, and very affectionate in spite of all she’s been through.


A year later, Gidget was found living in a dumpster.

She was around 8 months old, had a severe upper respiratory infection and had lost part of her ear to frostbite. Once on the mend, however, she became quite a lively member of our household, and “talks” or as we call it squalks, to us continually. She is now 7 years old.


Last year, we took Fritz in at about 6 weeks old.

He was under-nourished because the mother cat had basically stopped taking care of him and his only surviving littermate, had a bad case of ring worm, lice, an intestinal infection and eye infection. It is thought that his littermate shortly after was eaten by coyottes that were roaming the area. Fritz has given us fits trying to tame his wild streak, but he is very affectionate and is now 1 year old.


Then this past summer, we adopted Rosie from Lil Paws Rescue.

Rosie was found by the Dayton dog warden, and was scheduled to be euthanized, when Lil Paws Rescue saved her. My neighbor is a foster mom for the organization, and I saw Rosie everyday and couldn’t get her out of my mind; she looked so sad. My husband took a liking to her also, and we adopted her in July. She is afraid of all men except my husband and my dad, so we have some work to do rehabilitating her, but she is coming along. She is such a sweet natured and gentle dog, but she also keeps Fritz in line, an added side benefit.

Each one has added to our life in their own special way and gives us their unconditional love every day.

Submitted by Chris

You want to pay tribute to your pet friend?

Email me a picture (jpg or gif) and a small caption explaining why love is a four-legged word for you to:

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