Post

Dogs Are Unconditional Love

We got our first Golden Retriever back in the early 90's.  Raised her from 6 weeks old and it was one of the best experiences I have ever had.  Her name was Jingles, granddaughter of an AKC champion, but we didn't care about that at all.  We chose her out of a litter of 10 pups and from day one, we knew that this dog would be so special.  Our kids were grown and gone so it was time for a dog to love. 

After a few months we noticed she had trouble getting up from a sit or down position so off to the vet we went.  Turns out she had dysplasia in both hips.  So we had the surgery done on one hip at a time so that she would live longer and not be in pain.  I'm so glad we did that.  It cost a bloody fortune, but our Jingles was worth it.  After the first surgery, we brought a mattress downstairs to sleep with her because she wanted to be with us and tried to climb the stairs. 

She was such a good dog!  We even trained her how to eat frozen yogurt from a spoon and people would walk by us and think we were nuts to let her eat off our spoons.  Who do those people know anyway?  Obviously they weren't dog people.

Jingles died at age 9 from intestinal cancer and I miss her every day.  I hope wherever you are, Jingles, there's a swimming pool for you.  (Swimming was her favorite thing to do).
spirit99 spirit99 61-65, F 13 Responses Nov 3, 2011

Your Response

Cancel

Goldens are awesome!!! I know some folks don't understand the love we have for our pets...and its a shame because I think they are missing out on a lot!!

You did all that you could for Jingles and she very much appreciates it. God created all creatures & things on this earth & the 4 legged furry pets become family members & they give us unconditional love no matter what. I strongly believe they go to heaven & Jingles will be up there waiting for you. Rest assured she/he is pain free, running around & playing. And swimming as much as she/he wants. God Bless you for taking such good care of Jingles. I understand what you are saying & going through. Happy Holidays to you & your family.

I had a golden Retreiver named Casey. She was a great dog, so smart but so stubborn and willful. She came into my life when I was going through a deep depression, she brought me so much joy, She died two tears ago and I miss her everyday. All I want for Christmas is a Golden puppy : ), Miss you Casey

Jingles is in that place above with Holly our Golden Retreiver, bounding through the pastures.Holly died when she was about 7 from a tumor on her intestine. We now have Orla who is 7 and is a relation of Holly. But Orla has had her fair share of bad look. She has had a plate put in her back leg...she is constantly on anti-inflamation drugs for her arthritis and she went blind just over a year ago. But we love her to bits and apart from all that she is perfectly healthy.She completes our family.

i've got a little doggy and her name is Milly and although she jumps on new people she's cute

and i love her for what she is

Three years before my mother passed away, I again became a cat’s chief of staff. It happened just before midnight while I was out walking the grounds of the apartment building my grandfather built in Raleigh, where I lived and worked at the time. I saw a small Tabby standing at the corner of the building next to the bamboo grove. “It’s a little girl cat,” I said to her in a lilting way. She looked very small and defenseless, and she appeared to be waiting for someone. I presumed she was lost, since most of the tenants who had cats kept them inside. I knelt down and called to her. She watched me carefully. She didn’t budge. So I called to her again. “Co’mere,” I said, at least once. A few moments later, she lost her resistance and walked over to me. She began to rub against my legs. She even let me stroke her fur. It was love at first soft touch. She was beautiful, a finely marked multicolored tabby who resembled an African wildcat, a creature said to be the ancestor of the domestic cat. Her coloring, her large ears and her large eyes, ringed with a narrow band of cream-colored fur, gave her face the look of a fox. Her mask was striking.

I found out, after my third phone call to the number on the cat’s tag brought a reply, that the cat wasn’t lost. Her owner, Jane, was a design student who also had a job as a waitress—and little time for anything else. Jane kept the cat’s feeding station on the fire escape landing outside her third floor apartment because the cat was frequently outside. The cat and I became fast friends. Her name was Alexis—too much name for such a little cat, I thought. Wherever I was working in the building, a huge structure with 62 apartments, Alexis managed to find me. Sometimes, she’d follow me into my basement apartment when I took lunch or a break. After work, I’d lead her back to her feeding station on the fire escape. She followed me dutifully up three long flights of steps, day after day, as if she trusted me implicitly. We only kept each other company; I didn’t feed her or perform any other duties of ownership. Then the Thanksgiving holiday hit.

Thanksgiving is meant to be a time of plenty, but plenty was not what I found that day on the fire escape landing. I didn’t feel at all thankful for the empty dishes in disarray. There was no water for the cat to drink. I became angry, located a store that was open, and returned with some cat food. Thereafter I assumed feeding duties, but questions remained around ownership of the little girl, which was what I began to call her. “Alexis” had become far too cumbersome a name for an outdoorsy little tomboy cat.

There wasn’t much communication between the Jane’s owner and me, so I assumed she approved of my newly expanded role in her cat’s welfare. One night my

mother took supper at the restaurant where Jane worked. There was some indirect communication between them to the effect that Jane was upset with my interest in her cat, that she’d invested money in the cat’s care, and so forth. After my mother mentioned this incident to me, I decided to quit the little girl cold turkey. I’d had a bad experience with another tenant over a cat, and I didn’t want to repeat it.

But the little girl had her mind made up. She was not going to be separated from me. One night she found me working in the basement shop. She looked straight at me through the ground level window. I saw her cry out to me. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t look at her without breaking up. I’ve heard various sayings about love, about how love always finds a way, but this was a clear experience of feline love’s unstoppable power.

I decided to call my new friend “Miss” because she seemed such a little girl, with a little girl’s voice and her dainty paws. She moved in with me. I installed a cat door in the bedroom window so she could have perfect freedom. She followed me everywhere, into the basement where she spent rainy days, and into the apartments where I worked. Just about anywhere I went on foot, she followed. Just before Jane moved out of the building, we had a meeting, and she officially gave me her cat. “She’s picked you,” she said, avowing that since she was so busy, the cat really belonged with me.

Practice makes perfect, and the details of the connection Miss and I have will bear out that old saw. I’ve never been so connected, so taken by a cat. Miss understands English, or at least a certain amount of it. When I ask, “Where are you?” she always gives the same response. She knows how to work me. She curls her tail round my legs in a most seductive fashion; I confess I enjoy it. After I hoist her onto the counter for a drink from the dripping faucet, she insists that we butt heads before she tastes the water. I think it’s gratitude, or at least a very important bonding gesture.

After I hop into bed for the night, I sing a little song, the very first notes of which bring Miss up onto the bed, onto the flannel sheet I spread out for her because I know she likes soft, warm things. I finish the song, and then we’re ready to close our eyes and fall into that mysterious world where some creatures, even those crepuscular cats, go when the sunlight has finally faded to dark. All last night, however, she was very busy with a mouse she’d found the day before. I sang my heart out to no avail. She’s a cat, after all, and I love her for it.

Go out and get yourself another dog, it helps with the heart ache.

your animals do become members of your family and give you uncoinditional love, is it any mystery that we greave them so mutch when they pass! just enjoy the love between you now!

I think my childhood dog was the first to show me unconditional love.

Jamie, a little red Miniature Pinscher, would jump up and down with ecstatic excitement when I came home from school.

He curled up beside me in bed,

showed enthusiasm for everything we did together

seemed to know when I was miserable, and just rest his muzzle on me.



I fed him, washed him, used the anti flea and tick stuff, took him for long walks, played doggie games with him. One day in his middle age, while I was at school, he disappeared. All efforts to find him failed. I imagine he was most likely stolen. The only consolation in that though is that someone else continued to love him as much as I did.



To this day, my heart leaps in familiar joy at any dog that resembles him.

I love all dogs because of him... though I confess to avoiding fighter breeds.

I imagine someone stole him

i hope you get a Jingles No 2. It helps so much to ease the pain,it will not replace Jingles,but like children they are all loverble in there own way.Had 6 dogs myself loved them all

Love My Dog More Than Most People

I Love My Dog More Than Most People. I miss my German Shephard named Byke who passed away at a young age of 7 years.

wow..it really is a touching story..I'm sure that the happy memories of Jingles and the things your'l sacrificed for her would make you smile whenever you miss her!

Lovely recolection of a dogs love and owners loss. What happens when we get them they become family members and we are there for each other. A.t times they leave unexpected and in their sleep this happend not too long ago to my greyhound according to my vet he died of a blood clot in his cerebellum. He was asleep and woke up on the other side we had time to say our farewells as he died among those of us who knew and loved him. I began to look for a new needy greyhound I could give a home and who would know love for the first time in his life. I picked up my new greyhound on the fourth of July he is related to Connor the one who died maybe my Connor had a say in that too. I still miss him but life keeps going on and the choice we have is to keep living and loving which your story is a good exampel of thanks so much for sharing.