Readers' Tips and Heart-Tugging Tales

Zippy's Friend and Nanny

By Shari Vespested 

In 2008 our family included three Shelties -- Holly (13) Sunny (5) and Zippy (3).  Between my husband Steve and I, we've owned six Shelties.  We're very fond of this breed and the personalities our dogs exhibit. We've fostered dogs through Minnesota Sheltie Rescue, and occasionally have had vacationing owners' dogs in our home for days or weeks.

In 2003 we were down to one Sheltie (Holly), having lost one in January of that year.  That August we brought Sunny home, a very petite, bouncy puppy.  Holly wouldn't even acknowledge Sunny's presence for the first two weeks, sometimes even murmuring a bit of a growl when Sunny got too close.  But around week three, Holly started paying some attention and by the end of that week they were playing together.  They were not the best of friends by any stretch, but they were companions.  It was that way for the following two years.

Wanting to increase our family, Zippy arrived in 2005.  He is related to our other dogs -- Holly's grandson and Sunny's half-brother.  Zippy wasn't in the house ten minutes before Holly 'corralled' him, taking on the role of his nanny.  We weren't certain if it was because he was male or because she'd decided that puppies weren't so bad after all.  Holly took care of him every chance she got, grooming him and playing for long stretches.  She'd allow him to climb on her, jump on her, chew on her and curl up for naps with her.  Later, as he grew older, they played more equally, taking turns being both victor and vanquished.  They were constant companions at home, often found asleep together.

Three years ago Holly was diagnosed with chronic pancreatitis.  We managed her diet and health very well for a long time, but last fall she started to decline.  By early November she developed congestive heart failure and we knew that she had only days left.  Through it all, Zippy rarely left her side.

It was a Tuesday evening, the 11th of November.  Holly had stopped eating and her body was shutting down.  I went downstairs to get something from the family room and Sunny followed me down but Zippy did not.  For a brief moment I was surprised at that -- until I heard the thumping of Holly attempting to descend the steps.  She was in such a weakened state by then that I started toward the stairs to catch her, worrying that she couldn't make it on her own.  I didn't need to worry.  Zippy was right along side of Holly, pressing her up against the stairwell.  He allowed his body to be the support to slowly carry her the rest of the way.  I stood watching with my jaw open, knowing that what I'd just witnessed couldn't be mistaken for anything else.  Our three-year-old Sheltie understood exactly what she needed, and was there for her.

I often think about that moment and wonder -- who knows what really goes through their minds during times like these?  I have to believe that there's a lot more than we know.  After Holly passed away, Zippy went through a few days of grief, wandering through the house looking for her.  But within a week he adjusted and started building a new relationship with his sister Sunny. 

Even all these months later, if we mention Holly's name, Zippy's head tips in recognition of the 'nanny' he knew and dearly loved.

The Link that Sugar and I Share

By Lauri Weinfeld

When my bachelor dad was admitted to a Florida Hospice Care facility for his final seven days, his little side kick, a rescued Shih Tzu, "Sugar" missed him a lot! 

Her best friend was not able to throw her toy or talk to her anymore.  Sugar spent a lot of time with Dad, sitting on his bed at the Hospice facility.  We kept her leash on, since it was a policy at the facility.  We moved Dad's hand up-and-down Sugar's back, as much to comfort Sugar as to bring subliminal comfort to Dad.  

One afternoon, near the end, Dad was very ill and sedated, no longer responding to anything, nor able to move any muscles.  It had been that way for days. At one point Sugar decided she was bored and began to hop off the bed.  Dad's lifeless hand suddenly moved and he grasped at her leash! 

Eventually, while we were away from the hospital to get something to eat, the call came that Dad had passed away.  We promptly returned to his bedside.  As had been the case all week, I was holding Sugar in my elbow, just as Dad always did.  Upon entering the room, I immediately knew that Dad was 'gone'  and there was an indescribable and conspicuous change in how he looked.  Sugar also realized this and panicked!  She suddenly scrambled and clawed at my chest, trying to leap over my shoulder to run for the door.  I quickly took Sugar out of the room, and we sat on the veranda together and composed ourselves.

In that week with Dad, Sugar and I had bonded.  When I flew home to Ohio, Sugar came along and joined our entourage of pets, including another Shih Tzu and a Standard Poodle.  Initially she was insecure, grumpy and aloof.  She was used to being the 'only' dog in the house.  This business of sharing a master was NOT her idea of how to live.  When our other dogs tried to play with her, she would back away, then try, then quit, not certain of what it meant to play with another dog.  Sugar hoarded food, became possessive of me -- growling at others who approached when she was near me -- and refused to leave my side. 

It's been over a year now.  Sugar has adjusted and loves her new life.  She is the imp that instigates dog play, the one who purposely sleeps pressed against our other Shih Tzu, who loves all of our family members equally, and who, no doubt, remembers her loving former owner.  She wastes no time grieving, as there are chew toys to chase, treats to beg for, and kisses to give! Sugar is her own 'person' in our new family.  She's found her niche, as our clown, our cuddler and our little 'fog horn' (what a guard dog!)  She still follows me everywhere, but that's okay.  She is my link to a very important past, and I am her link to a safe and fun-filled future.

My Gentle Giant

By Lisa Brown

I have a one-year-old male Bullmastiff named Diesel and he is my Service Dog.  I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) with panic/anxiety attacks.  I purchased Diesel when he was nine weeks old with the intent of training him to be a show dog. 

After doing some Internet research after I brought him home, I found that Diesel had 'cosmetic' flaws that would keep him from ever entering a show ring.  I decided to put him through every dog training class that I could find.  He is now certified as an AKC Canine Good Citizen (CGC), which is the prerequisite to becoming a Therapy Dog International (TDI).  After awhile I accidentally learned that Diesel could sense when I was about to have a panic/anxiety attack.  He consistently alerted me approximately 30 minutes prior to any attack I suffered. 

Due to his ability to detect changes in my body chemistry, I no longer have to worry about having panic/anxiety attacks.  Diesel keeps me calm and gives me a sense of safety and my panic/anxiety attacks have almost stopped.  When he senses an attack coming on, about 30 minutes in advance, he just paws at me until I acknowledge him.  Then I take my preventive medication and I avoid an attack.  

I think of Diesel as an ambassador for Service Dogs in my area.  He is loved by everyone.  The cook at the local Wendy's gives him free hamburgers and knows just the way that he likes them.  Several of the ladies who run jewelry shops can't wait to see him when I bring him in for his walk.  One lady that works for a silver engraving shop is truly in love with Diesel and always has treats on hand for him.  

Diesel loves children, especially the ones that are at a perfect 'licking' level.  Some people react with fear because Diesel is so big (26" at the shoulder and 120 lbs.) but they are still inquisitive about what he does for me and they think he's beautiful.  Those that ask if they can pet him or if their children can pet him, are surprised by his gentleness. 

Diesel is all the proof I need that Bullmastiffs are truly 'Gentle Giants.'

Gator Saves the Day

By Steve Collins

Our family began the new millennium in the spring of 2000 with a Golden Retriever puppy whom someone thoughtfully named 'Gator' after my favorite college football team. As Gator grew, he and 11-year old Amy, the youngest of three children, became fast friends -- being separated only by Amy's school. The highlight of Gator's day was when the school bus rolled up to the house and he resumed his place at Amy's side.

Soon an invisible fence was installed around our yard, which Gator quickly and conscientiously accepted as his new boundary. One day Amy was riding a skate board on the street in front of our house, with Gator carefully following as best he could, at a safe distance from the other side of the invisible fence. Amy suddenly let out a wail as she tumbled painfully onto a gravely part of the road.  In an instant, Gator jumped through the 'shock zone' and sprinted to Amy's side. Her sorrow was turned to a smile as she surveyed what Gator had done. "Look Daddy" she laughed, "it's almost like Gator gave his life for me."