Sometimes they come to us too late...

This page is dedicated to our animal friends who left us too soon.

Pawprints in the snow, searching, circling, looking for food and shelter.  Tracking you wasn’t easy, they stopped at the street.
Where did you come from?  How did you find me?

Pawprints up the steps leading to my door, searching, searching for love.  I wasn’t home;  my heart filled with sadness and frustration at having missed your visit – again.  Where did you go?  Did you find a temporary haven?  Did anyone look at you with love and ask you in?

Pawprints  in the mud.  I watched as you searched frantically for the plate.  I didn’t know you could barely see.  Hunger made you frantic….your cry cut through  the noise of the engine.  I put the plate down in another, safer place.  Once  again you cried, demanding to know where dinner was.  I moved the place to its  regular spot and watched in sadness as you gobbled quickly, to fill your empty belly before someone chased you away.

Pawprints on the newspaper, mud everywhere.  You bang against the sides of the  crate, demanding to know why you are here.  You sniff, trying to sort the smells  directly in front of you….food and water.  You snuggle inside the box, protected  and safe.  Finally, you sleep, the sound of human voices flowing around you like  a stream around a rock.

Pawprints on my heart and my soul….I look at your empty crate, the bowl of kibble  still full, the water half gone, and the sadness overwhelms me.  The pawprints  are filled with tears that overflow.  I see your fur, matted, tangled and dirty;  your ears notched and sore; your half blind eyes that couldn’t see very far – I  couldn’t even tell what color they were – all I saw were your pupils, opened wide to draw in the light.  How could someone not love you?  I had such wonderful
plans for you, to help you regain your dignity and self –respect.  You didn’t  give me time;  the disease took you away, before I could show you love and trust,  before I could hold you on my lap and let your big purr wash over me like Spring  rain, before I could comfort you and let you know you were finally safe.

Pawprints across the Rainbow Bridge….see the others?  I’ll bet your eyes are  golden, and you can see forever.  Your coat is silken and shiny, your ears whole  and clean.  The others wait to guide you to safe haven, to wait for us when once  again we will be together and I can finally hold you and feel your purr rumble  against my heart.

 His name was Ashes; he was a grey cat.  He was the sweetest, kindest, most loving cat a person could ever ask for.
 Ashes got his name when he and his friend Blaze (a dog who later was adopted) came into the Washington Humane Society.  Ashes and Blaze had saved their owners from a house fire.  Both animals had been burned badly and it turned out Ashes would be scarred for life.  Because of that his owners didn't want him or Blaze anymore.  Ashes fit right in with the rest of the animals.  He was loved dearly.
 On December 8, 1998 Ashes started going downhill very quickly.  He fought the battle of life until God told him not to fight anymore.
Ashes just goes to show how smart, brave, and affectionate animals are to their owners.
May we all have a special place in our hearts for this brave hero, Ashes.

With love and respect, Washington Humane Society Staff.

 Sparky April, 1994-December, 1998

 Four years ago, at the very end of a cold December, 1994 , Sparky and his sister, Dinky, came into the Animal Shelter at Homer, Alaska, where I volunteer. Although he was gray tabby with white, and she a calico, it was apparent that they were siblings--the same age, the same snub noses, the same yellow eyes, the same shaggy coats--even the same swirl of white down their faces. They were dirty, skinny and badly ear-mited. I'll always remember, after I put them in the empty cage and started pouring dry cat food from the storage container into a dish, turning to see those four golden eyes staring at that cat kibble like it was the Holy Grail. When I put the bowl in their cage, they attacked it like they hadn't seen food in weeks, their little heads bumping together over the bowl. I think it was then that they won my heart, poor little rag-a-muffins. They had been left behind by a family that moved and a neighbor had been feeding them (obviously not too often). I'm just so glad he went to the trouble to catch them and bring them to us, rather than just letting them starve or freeze. I took them home to join our cat family a few days later--she was the long-haired calico that I'd always wanted, and Sparky was special not only for his big polydactyl feet but his sweet personality. What a pair they were! Dinky in her harlequin coat and Sparky, with his big white feet, looked like they had escaped a circus. Their people-loving personalities and manic antics belied the desertion and hardship that lay in their past. Dinky was a bossy little thing, but Sparky was just a lover, always ready for some lap-sitting and petting. I like to remember how his coat shimmered in the sun when he ran across the yard during a daily outing, how he enjoyed his hours of exploring the woods around our house. I could trust him to stay close, so allowed him more freedom than some of our other cats get. Now, I'm glad he had those sweet summer days. Maybe I should have noticed how out-of-breath he got when he was excited, or how he would flop down to rest after a short chase. I don't think it would have made much difference in the long run. He was diagnosed with congestive heart failure last Thursday, and died Monday afternoon. Our vet thinks the heart problem was congenital, because he was so young. His big heart was his downfall, but he leaves a lot of friends to mourn him and remember him. He was a loving soul. Sleep well, little guy. We'll always love you.

Little guy, you were so brave as you left us.
It hurt to see you go so young but we could not let you suffer.
We loved you in the short time we knew you.
We will dream of you running free at the Rainbow Bridge.
Your Moms, MaryAW and Cara