He was a Small Dog with a Big Heart!

We often receive heart warming stories about pets we adopted out and about pets in our community.  This is a lovely little tale about Cheech:

About 11-years ago a little dog named Mickey was about to find a new permanent home.  His current family could no longer care for him so they put an ad in the local paper.  Ken and Sheila saw the ad and felt connected to the little dog and decided they had to meet. They made an appointment and went out in a heavy rainstorm to meet little Mickey.  As they arrived at the apartment they ran to get out of the rain, and again they had a good feeling about meeting this new little dog.  They found the apartment and knocked on the door.  As the door opened so did their hearts, right there at their feet was Mickey, a very excited, brown Chihuahua!  It was love at first sight for all of them!  They took one look at Mickey, and knew they wanted to take him home.  They also thought his name didn’t suit him, so right then and there they decided to change his name to Cheech!  Cheech’s previous owner then informed them that ‘Cheech’ had been his name before they became his owner, this was surely meant to be.

As the years passed on, Cheech was the most friendly, cuddly, well behaved little buddy you could ever wish for.  He always lived life to the fullest!  He loved to go boating, flying, and for motorcycle rides – he even had his own helmet!  Cheech went everywhere with is new owners; garage sales, shopping, or just to visit friends.

He was welcomed everywhere.

While Ken and Shelia were on a short vacation, sadly, Cheech passed away.  They were shocked to hear the sad news and took comfort in looking at old pictures of Cheech. It wasn’t until after his passing, in pictures, that they noticed a very unique fur pattern on Cheech’s little forehead.  It was a heart.  They had never noticed this before but it confirmed what they always knew: Cheech was a small dog with a big heart.  They will always remember him just that way.

Since Cheech’s passing, his owners have made a generous donation to the Centre and hope that the animals here make other people as happy as Cheech made them.

Milou was born on the streets in downtown Boston sometime during the winter of 1991-92. He was adopted from a shelter in December 1992 by someone who then decided to give him away, and he bounced around several homes for the next six years. He had been given to friends of mine to look after, but they couldn't keep him because of the other cats in the household. When I met him, he was a cat in his prime, living outside all through a harsh Maine winter and fighting with anything that moved. I was eager to move to a place where I could take him in. That finally happened that summer, and for the next ten years and about a dozen addresses he was my constant companion and best friend. I blame him for my grey hair, because he still spent every possible moment outside and I worried about him. But, except for his remarkable survival of an incident with a fisher, he won every fight and survived, whether in the city or 20 miles from anywhere in the north woods. Remarkably, any cat that didn't cause trouble was welcome to stay, as long as they acknowledged the 'boss'. I used to tell him that he was the sort of cat that other cats wrote songs about. Even at 16 years old, despite arthritis and thyroid problems, he enforced neighbourhood peace and was always glad to play with a stray kitten, or teach them to hunt and survive.

When we made our last move to a house in June 2007 and my daughter was born, he took it all in stride, as expected. I could relax a bit because he finally had his own yard, although it required some construction because he could still readily go over the 6-1/2 foot fence. In September 2008 a very aggressive cancer began to grow in his mouth, and within three weeks it had destroyed his tongue and made him unable to eat, drink, or swallow. He braved the visits to the vet, the injections of fluids while we waited for the biopsy results to see if he could be helped. On October 17th, he was put to sleep at home. Now he lies buried in the yard, and I have to wait until spring to see if the carefully selected rhododendron planted on his grave actually has blooms that match his fur. Milou, you were the smartest and most wonderful animal I have ever had the pleasure of calling a friend. You will never ever be forgotten, and we will never stop missing you.

I named Kato during the OJ Simpson trial; he was the house guest that would never leave. And I'm glad of it because along with BJ, they were my dynamic duo. I found Kato in 1995 hanging around my backyard. I fed him and he kept coming back. I took him to the Humane Society as he had a tattoo in his ear and I was sure he was someone's. When no one claimed him, I was glad to take him home. I thought I had made a terrible mistake when I introduced him to BJ. They hissed at each other like a bunch of wild cats, but they gradually grew to accept each other. In the early days, Kato would fetch a ball and return it to me, but later retired from that. He also liked to knead his paws into my short hair when I was in bed. He seemed to have a thing for women and their hair. He loved to climb into boxes and bags, and hide under covers. When we learned that he too had cancer, only a short 5 months after we lost BJ, we were devastated. With injections, we were able to prolong his life for a couple months, but he finally went to join his buddy BJ in Kitty Heaven.

We love you both and will never forget you. Thanks for the memories - our sweet, furry angels.

Dawn & Reiner Haussler