If you’ll allow me to single out one of you, it will be “Cleo,” the American Staffordshire Terrier who arrived at seven months old, starved, abused, a product of a Pit Bull fighting dog breeder, and who was deranged and uncontrollable from her experiences. She was biting inanimate objects to the point that she knocked out two of her bottom teeth. For the first three days, I wondered if I would have to finally, after all the years, violate my own ethics and beliefs and have a dog euthanized for behavior, for being “unredeemable,” when I continue to insist that even biting is natural behavior and a form of communication for a dog. I held to my beliefs, Cleo settled down and then blossomed into one of the most beautiful and well-behaved dogs of her breed I’ve ever met. We were smitten with each other. As she ran around the yard, swam in her pool, and took numerous foster dogs under her wing and showed them the ropes, I was amazed at how much a “crazy” dog can teach a “crazy” human. In fact, she seemed to gravitate to the most down-and-out “basket cases” I took in, and she managed to give them the gumption and assurance that I, the fallible human, could not. Every evening, before your dinner, I would call, “Where’s Daddy’s baby?” and Cleo would come tearing across the yard and jump into my arms, all 65 pounds of her (and one time she nearly broke my nose). Old habits die hard and to this day, whenever I feed your current brothers and sisters, or the foster animals who have passed through our new home, I whisper – but now it is, “Where’s Daddy’s babies?” Plural.

Of course, I know where you are, and while it may be customary to wish that you rest in peace, that wouldn’t be fitting. You never allowed me to “rest in peace,” and I sincerely doubt that, despite your obvious charms, you have added much to the peace of Heaven.

On the anniversary of the tragedy that took you from my good home to your new great one, I want to tell you, Otto, Pongo, Cleo, Tina, Gaston, Gabriel, Amadeus, Danny, Danube, Tara, Tawny, Lucinda, Lakota, and Willow, that you are not forgotten, that you are remembered daily and missed, and until we see each other again, you always will be.

Love and more thanks than I can adequately express,

Your human dad, Jim, and all your furred brothers and sisters

P.S. To everyone who sent messages of sympathy and support, and donations over the past year, you have our most sincere gratitude.