It is difficult to describe just how profound this loss is in a few words. All we can hope is that that profoundness exists because her life was so deserving of it. She should have had more time, but we are so proud of the fight she gave against her insidious cancer. We will remember Queen Theen differently – in creeks, chicken, growl towels, chuckers, nose prints, percussive barks, and pink collars. She has truly been ‘that one dog’ in every sense, and we are shattered at her passing.

Athena, you were named after a goddess and you lived up to it every second. Hilarious, adoring, bright, independent, playful, tireless. Our bilu, snoonie, boonoostie, beast, bubba, Theen. We will love you till the end of time and even after.

Athena Rosy Henderson

2.13.06 – 7.28.18”

A.H Ashburn,VA

Carol and John are the best and we hope all is well with you.  Thanks again

P & S.S, VA

S & J, Arlington, VA

D. J. Bluemont, VA

Francie joined the pack a couple years after Henry, and Lucy moved even further from
the center of the world. And by the time Mary was born, Lucy had probably been tugged on,
poked, and jumped over more than she’d been petted. And she was as at least as happy as when
she was as a puppy. Lucy just wanted to be with us. And she was. Always there. Always home.
Often sleeping & often snoring (loudly). It never occurred to me that I would miss the sound of
her snoring. I’m going to miss it.

This morning, as I was telling the kids that Lucy had died peacefully during the night, I
realized that she lived her whole life without ever getting angry with anyone, or making anybody
feel bad. So there’s a little bit of comfort in that.

The JB Family, Morgantown, WV

It was with deep sorrow that we said goodbye to our beloved “Sam” on April 23, 2016. He had been a member of our family for 19 too-short years. He came into our lives when he was only 3 months old. As a kitten, he was adorable, playful, affectionate and very vocal. He stole our hearts and secured his place in our household immediately. Despite the fact that he was younger than the other two cats we had at the time, Sam was naturally dominant — smart and strong-willed but never mean or aggressive — he was the “Ruler of the Roost” and the undisputed “King of the Castle.”

Sam grew into a remarkably beautiful boy. A striking tri-colored Maine Coon mix, he had the striped markings of a chipmunk down his spine, fur as soft as silk, and an expressive, sweet face that would brighten your day in an instant. He was larger than average in size — nearly 15 muscled pounds in his prime — but a gentle mini-giant he was, always graceful and lithe. He was very fastidious in his grooming habits, not allowing anyone unfamiliar to pet his sleek coat without first smelling them and “pre-approving” their touch.

He continued to be as vocal as he had been as a kitten; it was his way of communicating with his people. Although his ‘meow’ was a couple octaves higher than what one would normally expect from a large-ish, dominant, male cat, we never mentioned it within his hearing.

Sam was what could generally be described as “low-maintenance” for most of his life. His needs were simple. Full food and water bowls were always tacitly appreciated because he was a grazer (as opposed to gobbler), periodically munching and lapping throughout the day/night. A clean litter box was also highly valued, given that he was so persnickety about his person. Indeed, during his entire 19 year lifetime with us, he never failed to use his box — NEVER, not once. His only vice was a fetish for clean laundry — if there was basket or drawer of clean laundry to be found, he found it and climbed in — but we never minded.

Like most cats, Sam was a creature of habit, greeting us at the door after work or whenever we returned home from an outing. His social skills were very well developed too: regularly jumping into laps for hugs and adoration, and joining the family wherever we gathered in the house. He especially enjoyed keeping company in the kitchen whenever food was being prepared. Naturally, he expected his tribute from the family “kill” but he was well-mannered about it — dignified, you could say. Sharing was simply the way of the “pride,” and we obliged him always, whether or not he decided to partake, but freshly cooked chicken breast, was never refused.

When not interacting with us directly, Sam had his regular routines and places to perch throughout the house. In the mornings, he often hung out in one of the bathrooms wherever his people were and wherever water was running. He was mesmerized by water, even trying (and sometimes succeeding) to get in an occupied shower. Throughout the day he sought comfort in various locations throughout the house — relaxing on the cushions on the back of the couch in front of the window that enabled him to bird and squirrel watch, stretching out on the warm patches of sunshine on the floor made by the skylights (as the sun moved, he moved with it), curling up in the recliner in the den with the heated blanket to keep him warm in the colder months, or sitting on the top step of the open staircase that allowed him the best vantage point from which to keep an eye on household activities. At night, though, he could always be found leaning on a pillow in bed (eerily humanlike), or curled nose-to-tail, warm and safe under the arm of one of his people.

No matter where he was, Sam always seemed to know instinctively when he was needed. His job, as we think he understood it, was to provide comfort, love and affection to his people during difficult times. And he performed that “job” admirably — doing something funny or unusual to give a needed chuckle, laying in the lap of someone ill to calm them and make them feel loved, ‘head-butting’ someone lost in one of life’s many trials and tribulations as if to bring them back to the present, lending his soft fur to absorb the tears that are occasionally and inevitably a part of life, or just being there, usually purring loudly, to remind us that we weren’t alone.

Sam was always there for us, so when he first became seriously ill in January 2015 (he was nearly 18 years old at the time) and we were told his liver was failing and that he likely only had days or weeks to live, we were there for him. He was not in acute pain, fortunately, so we were determined to do everything we could to make whatever time he had left as comfortable and happy as possible. Amazingly, Sam fooled us all by responding well to treatment. He regained strength and weight, and his condition improved markedly. Although we knew the treatment wasn’t a cure, Sam was able to resume his normal, if a bit less active, routines for more than a year following that grim prognosis. We recognized the additional time as a precious gift and took that opportunity to enjoy and appreciate every moment with him. Sadly, at the beginning of April 2016, his condition began to deteriorate again and no manner of treatment helped this time. His veterinarian said the fact that Sam had beaten the odds for so long, defied all logic and was a testament to his strength of will and constitution.

Sam gave so much joy to us throughout his life. He was the epitome of the dignified cat, a gentleman through and through. He was our special little man and we loved him dearly. Words cannot express the depth of our heartbreak at Sam’s loss. We will forever miss his strong personality and demeanor, his beautiful countenance, his sweet voice, his always-ready love and affection, and the pure pleasure of his presence in our everyday lives.

S. Family, Potomac Falls, VA
_________________________________

You blindsided us from the start. The kids wanted a dog of their own. Lost Dog Rescue showed an endearing photo of a floppy eared 4 month old pup – you hooked the boys. You were almost feral, with little regard for people. The vet thought you were part Akita – we had to look that up, and I wondered who would master whom. My mom called you “Diablo” – suggested we should return you or we would regret the problems.

Instead we got a prince of a dog. Your floppy ears and long legs transformed into a handsome boy, your stance commanded respect, and you were a softie around “family”. You were a vigilant guard dog at home, to the consternation of workmen. You vocalized your needs, which were few….. long walks in the woods, food, the occasional toss of a squeaky toy, and rides in the car when the knees became a problem. You lived with us in Morocco and Australia, and everyone we met admired your royal carriage, fearsome good looks. We became a formidable team, and you always had my back. The boys wanted their own dog, but you chose me instead. It does not matter much what we want – dogs choose their owners. Mutual respect grew from training, allowing liberty and trust on our long leashless walks in the woods – you constantly circled back to make sure I was OK. Your only successful hunt was to bring home a squashed frozen squirrel – such a treasure left on our front step.

Thank you for blindsiding us in the most wonderful way. You will always live in our memories.

Love, the Allison family of Great Falls

I adopted this handsome boy 15 years ago because his family no longer wanted him and the local rescue was having no luck finding him a home. When I met him, he was days away from being euthanized. God sent me to the pet rescue event that day, to bring him home and love him forever. He never caused me a moment of trouble and quietly tolerated being bossed around by many alpha dogs (and cats!) throughout his life.

There’s an empty space now that I will fill with special memories of my Pumpkin. I love you always, sweet boy and will see you one day where we will never be parted again.

D.E. Manassas, VA

M. K. Leesburg, VA

L.B & K.W. Ashburn, VA