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For our animal companions memorialized
through the K-State Pet Tribute
Hannah B. Elmore - Submitted by Dr. and Mrs. Ronnie
Elmore
Lief
- Submitted by Dave Oberbeck
Zeke -
Submitted by Don Manley
Winston
- Submitted by Jim and Kathy Celmer
Moxie - Submitted by Janet and Pat Duncan
Spencer - Submitted by
Dean, Kim,
Austin and Rachel Stephens.
Tess - Submitted by Kathy Coffman
Miss Allie - Submitted by Tom and Caroline Bishop
Austin -
Submitted by Mike and Becky Malotte
Rebecca -
Submitted by Michele Braun
Zoey -
Submitted by Michele Braun
Rocket Ron - Submitted by Jo Gutgsell, Steve Haack
and J. Joe Gutgsell (nanny)
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A Special Kind of Teacher …
On March 15, 2005,
Hannah, affectionately known to many as “Hannah B.”
for “Hannah Banana”, crossed over to the Rainbow Bridge while being held
by her “dad” and surrounded by her family in the “comfort room” in the
Kansas State University Veterinary Medical Teaching Hospital (VMTH).
Hannah, a Welsh corgi, touched virtually every veterinary student
graduating from K-State during the last nearly fourteen years. It was a
K-State veterinary student that spayed her in 1991, and then a host of
veterinary students who cared for her through her three back surgeries,
a root canal procedure, a cruciate repair, and various other ailments.
Because Hannah did not like having her temperature taken, several
classes of students had to admit that they were not able to obtain her
temperature during routine physical examinations by standard methods.
Only after becoming partially paralyzed did she allow such indignity.
And then there was the group of students who assured Hannah’s “dad” on
an impromptu visit to the dental room that everything was okay while she
was obviously experiencing a severe allergic reaction to an eye
medication administered during a teeth cleaning procedure. Hannah’s
“dad” could tell that everything was not quite okay by the amount of
sweat on the brows of the students.
Those students not assigned to Hannah during an illness had
opportunities to care for her during the many times she was boarded
while her “parents” were out of town. Although paralyzed for the last
three years of her life, Hannah enjoyed living and being in the center
of all activities. She was routinely given – more correctly, demanded –
a cage in the treatment area where she could observe all that was
occurring. Even during her last stay at the VMTH, Hannah touched many
students, clinicians, and staff members. Many students learned about the
sanctity of life and the privilege veterinarians have to end life when
pain cannot be relieved and there is no hope for maintaining an
acceptable quality of life.
Although the loss of Hannah has left a great void within her family and
in her extended family, it is comforting to know this little dog helped
train more than 1,300 veterinary students. It is truly comforting to
know that such a little dog that never traveled more than a few miles
from home could be a small part of so many veterinarians’ training.
Hannah Banana truly was a special kind of teacher!
- Submitted by Dr. and Mrs. Ronnie
Elmore
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Lief came to our home from a local
humane shelter when he was just a couple of months old. He was one of
four pups that someone had turned in for whatever reason. My son and I
decided that after several days if no one would claim him, we would. My
son returned to the shelter, and as my hopes would have it, he returned
with our new family member.
Lief was a Golden Retriever and who knows what else, but it really
didn't matter. He was ours. I guess it was his yellow eyes and that
silly, mischievous look that first grabbed me. Lief, like most male
dogs, was his “own person.” In time, he came around to my way of
thinking, and we trusted him whole heartily. He never destroyed anything
and could be left alone in the house unsupervised for hours. (Although I
did accuse him of watching T.V. when we weren't home, because I know for
a fact that when we left the house he would nap on the couch and one
time he must have accidentally pawed or sat on the remote and turned the
T.V. on.)
Lief’s early years were quite routine, and one time while we were
vacationing near Lake Ontario, a complete stranger came up to me and
offered me $1,000 for him. Of course, there was no price that would be
considered for a family member. Lief was a real looker. Despite his
handsome looks, Lief, like a lot of Golden Retrievers, was plagued by
medical problems. He was prone to ear infections, hot spots and at about
five years of age, we began to notice he was having trouble catching a
frisbee. To make a long story short, we took him to the Cornell
University College of Veterinarian Medicine. I was crushed that day when
the doctor told me that Lief was partially blind and would be totally
blind in six to twelve months. I promised him on the return trip home
that he would have nothing to worry about; I would be his eyes and I
would not let him down.
Lief was my shadow. Whenever I moved, he moved, wherever I went, he
went. He loved to ride in the car and would rest his head in my lap for
hours. He was always at my feet. He loved to sleep on my feet; I guess
he did that so he would know when I was on the move. I was his and he
was mine. Then, one night, the week before Christmas 2004, at about 10
p.m., Lief went into a seizure that he never recovered from. Despite our
efforts to get him to an emergency room hospital for animals on slick
and snow covered roads, he passed away about 9 a.m. the next morning. He
was six years old.
When he passed away so did a piece of me. Some would say, “He was just a
dog,” but they don't or can't understand, and I feel for them. Lief will
always be a part of me. I can't help feeling that I let him down because
I couldn't keep my promise. Lief I love you. I am so sorry.
- Submitted by Dave Oberbeck
Zeke
He was beautiful to us from the moment we first saw
him. Though by Sheltie standards, his overbite caused him to appear to
have the nose of a Collie. We loved him dearly, and he felt the same
about us. He was Zeke – named by our four-year-old grandson.
My wife saw that he got professional training, and he began to visit
nursing homes as a therapy dog, always in the company of the love of his
life, Nadine, my wife.
God gave us ten years with him. We are very, very grateful.
Zeke is gone from us now, and we are still missing him terribly. Maybe
eventually another dog will come into our life. Meanwhile we mourn, and
yes, we cry a little.
We remember the good things; his piece of rubber garden hose that he
carried around outside when he wanted us to play tug with him; his
toleration of two cats he didn’t really care for, but he protected them
anyway; how much he loved riding in the car; how the residents of the
nursing home loved him and how he loved them.
So to you, Zeke: You took a little of us with you, but you left a lot of
yourself with us. Thanks for the ten years.
- Submitted by Don Manley
Topeka, Kansas
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Winston
Winston came to live with us nine
years ago. He was an Old English Sheep Dog and was born deaf. As a puppy
he was full of life and always happy. He had access to our garage and
during the day while we were at work, he spent hours pulling tools,
grills, lawn furniture, anything he could carry, out on to our patio. He
did not destroy anything, he just enjoyed moving items outside - part of
his herding instinct I am sure. Although we found this amusing, my
husband eventually closed everything in the garage so that he couldn't
get to anything.
As with most dogs, life was a game. His devotion and love was
overwhelming to my husband and me. We decided – as a lot of dog owners
do – to take Winston through obedience training at our local kennel
club. We realized with his hearing disability it would be a challenge.
Believe me it was. With Winston's joy and energy, he saw the other dogs
as playmates and I constantly corrected him on paying attention.
Sometimes I had to do time outs with him as we were walking in a circle
with the other dogs. We worked with him day and night teaching him sign
language and doing the drills that were required of beginning obedience.
We had to find other ways to give him the commands since he could not
hear. Winston learned sign quickly. Doggie treats worked wonders
teaching him to lie and stay. He always wanted to take the lead, so a
big challenge was teaching him to walk beside you instead of ahead of
you. A sign was developed to keep him back and along side.
As the big day approached, which was on his first birthday, we arrived
at the school with Winston. The teachers had decided that because of his
disability he probably would not place in the final training exercise.
Winston surprised all of us. He placed first. His attention and response
to the sign language we taught him was right on. The judge said that
Winston and my husband worked amazingly well with each other. Winston
took it all in stride and looked at us as if to say “What were you
worried about? I knew I could do it.” A few weeks later, he earned his
Good Citizen Award by passing his test with very high marks.
Winnie, as we often called him, loved to run in the field behind our
house with his head up high, chasing the flying birds – once again, part
of his herding instinct. Throughout the next years he was a constant joy
to us. His unconditional love and faith in all people taught me to love
and appreciate all animals. He just loved being with people. If you
happened to be standing washing dishes or cooking dinner, you would
often find him standing between your legs. Guests would come over and
talk to you and the next thing they knew, a big ol’ Sheep Dog was
standing between their legs.
Two years ago, Winnie developed Mega Esophagus, which meant his
esophagus was too large and food could not get to his stomach. He was
always in danger of getting aspiration pneumonia. He also developed
problems with his swallowing and stomach mobility. We began taking him
to the K-State Veterinary Medical Teaching Hospital in Manhattan,
Kansas. After two surgeries and a feeding tube in place, we brought him
home. And so time went on with us tube feeding Winnie three times a day.
Eventually he put on the weight he had lost and got back to his old
self, loving life and all that he came in contact with. Pneumonia
continued to plague Winnie over the next couple of years. There were
more trips to K-State and more surgery on his feeding tube button. Never
once did he cry or act distressed over his medical condition. He was
always a trooper.
On his final trip to K-State, he had to undergo surgery due to an
obstruction in his bowel. He came through surgery well but then began to
develop other problems. On April 6, 2005, my husband and I made the
200-mile trip to K-State from Grand Island, Nebraska, knowing that his
condition was grave and he might not be alive when we reached him. When
we got there, Winnie was very weak but holding on. As my husband and I
talked to him to tell him good bye and that we loved him, he talked back
to us, and I will always believe he was telling us it was okay, he was
ready to go play in heaven.
Jim and I wish to express our thanks and gratitude to Dr. Lisa Moore and
her staff at K-State for the love and care Winston always received.
Because of them we know that Winston was always taken care of when we
couldn't be with him. That knowledge has made his loss somewhat easier.
Submitted by Jim and Kathy Celmer
Grand Island, Neb.
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Moxie
Dear Dr. Nelson, Dr. Artzer, Beth, Amy and everyone who gave such wonderful care to Moxie,
Thank you for surrounding her with friendship when I couldn’t be with her during her last hours. I know she was as comfortable with all of you as she was with family. She always jumped out of the car and trotted up to Nancy at the front desk with her collar bell ringing for her visit to her doctors’ office. She was a wonderful dog and we will miss her and talk lovingly about her forever. Thanks to Amy’s beautiful plaque, her paw print sits on our desk as well as being imprinted on our hearts.
- Sincerely,
Janet and Pat Duncan
Spencer
Spencer “the Shredder” Stephens
came into our lives in December of 1995. We had no idea how much this
little dog was going to change our lives when he came into our home. And
today, eleven years later, it is hard to get along without him around.
Spencer was the runt of his litter, and that was one of the main reasons
we picked him out. He was so cute and so small. As the years went on,
you would never have known that he was the runt because his hearty
appetite had caused him to be a little husky. Spencer, or as my father
liked to call him, Little Buddy, was so much more than a dog; he was the
fifth member of our family, he was our friend, he was our companion and
now, life is not the same without him.
At a very young age, Spencer
lived up to his middle name, “The Shredder.” He would find Kleenex, the
cardboard from paper towels and wrapping paper and he would tear them to
shreds…all for some attention. While most people would be annoyed, our
family thought it was hilarious. I guess you could say this was the
start of the millions of memories we have made with Little Buddy over
the years. He always had such a hearty appetite and would devour his
food in less than two minutes, and then immediately come to the kitchen
table to wait for handouts of our dinnertime meal. If he wasn’t hungry,
we knew something was wrong. He traveled with us on all of our
vacations, and many times he was the best traveler, never asking, “are
we there yet?” or complaining. Spencer was happy just to come along. In
his later years, he was so accustomed to going on family vacations, that
when anyone would get a suitcase out of the closet, Spencer would be
worried that we were going somewhere without him. After seeing the
suitcase, he would park by the front door or follow so closely at our
heels to make sure we didn’t forget to take him along, and we never
forgot because vacation wouldn’t be the same without Little Buddy.
As the years passed and more memories were made it seemed difficult to
remember what life was like before Spencer was a part of it. Our family
would always joke and say that Spencer was a furry little human, and to
this day, I believe that to be true. It was this “little human” that
made the simple pleasures in life the most enjoyable. Bad days were soon
forgotten when I would pull up in the driveway to see Spencer at the
front door anxiously waiting to hear the garage door open. Happy times
were doubled because he was always a part of them. And sad days were
easier having him to come and lay his head in my lap. It’s amazing that
his presence could heal my human hurts.
In winter of 2002 Spencer fell ill. We knew something was wrong because
he was no longer concerned with gobbling up his food. He began to have
seizures and we took him to the vet not knowing what to expect. We were
told he had a large mass in his stomach and surgery was necessary. I
remember telling my parents that the only thing I wanted for Christmas
that year was for my “Little Buddy” to be okay. On the day the surgery
was scheduled our family waited by the phone for news from the vet. The
vet called to tell us that they had not begun the surgery because they
wanted to try something that another vet has suggested…a pill that would
control the seizures and possibly shrink the mass. Willing to try
anything, we agreed and it worked. Slowly but surely, Spencer was back
to his normal self. We had four more wonderful years with him and
knowing now more than ever how important time was, we cherished every
second with him. In early 2006 bad news came. Spencer was diagnosed with
kidney cancer and we were told time would be short. He no longer had an
appetite for the many different types of dog food we purchased and the
vet told us to feed him whatever he would eat. Spencer began eating
rice, hamburger, chicken, and in his last days he got a grilled steak
everyday. I think it was fair to say that many times he had a better
meal than we did!
Spencer made it through one last birthday and turned 11 before
Thanksgiving. People were always so surprised to hear that he was still
with us almost one year of hearing the bad news. But we knew that he
hung on to us for the same reason we hung on to him; we loved him and he
loved us. His unyielding loyalty taught us all an important lesson about
devotion, a lesson we are forever thankful for and will never forget.
When December came we knew the time was here for us to say goodbye to
our faithful companion, and on December 12, 2006, with his family by his
side, we did the hardest thing we had ever had to do and said goodbye to
the little dog that changed our life. When Spencer left, he took a piece
of each of us with him and we miss him terribly. Although our hearts
hurt to see him go, we are thankful for the wonderful and memorable 11
years we were able to share with our “Little Buddy.”
We miss you Little Buddy
Submitted by Dean, Kim, Austin and
Rachel Stephens.
Shawnee, Kansas
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Tess
I was once told it's a blessed gift to have the capacity to love something with all your heart,
but with that gift comes the responsibility of having strength if you have to part.
I called her Tess, Tetta Metta and sometimes Tessa Mae.
Today with broken heart I helped her slip away.
She went to her end like she lived her life: with dignity and grace.
I couldn't stay till the very end when the light went out of her face.
I hope you forgive me my dear friend, I couldn't see you dead;
that's an image there would have been no way to ever evict from my head.
You never did me wrong in any one of your nine short years,
that I did you wrong today will always be one of my fears.
You didn't leave a hole in my life as you passed to the other side,
you left a chasm, immeasurable, it's so deep and wide.
When this broken body of mine gives way and succumbs to its ultimate fate,
you better be there little black dog, when I walk through the pearly gate.
I want you to be doing your black dog dance with a grin from ear to ear,
and fill my heart and soul with joy as you always did when you were here.
Goodbye my Tetta Mae.
- Submitted by Kathy Coffman
Norman, Oklahoma
Miss Allie
God saw Miss Allie was getting tired and a cure was not to be. So he put his arms around her and whispered, “Come with me.” With tearful eyes, we watched her fade away and although we loved her dearly, we could not make her stay. A golden heart stopped beating, a sweet spirit was put to rest. God broke our hearts to prove to us he only takes the best.
Miss Allie fought a courageous three-year battle with cancer. On February 19, 2006, at Kansas State University veterinary school’s intensive care unit, Jesus called her sweet soul home to rest peacefully with him in heaven until we can be reunited.
- Submitted by Tom and Caroline Bishop
St. Louis, MO
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Austin
It had been a long day of searching for a new found friend and the day
was almost over. Upon arriving at Wayside Waifs in August, 1992, we had
not found "the one" and the day was almost over. We had been to numerous
animal shelters that day and seen many wonderful animals that I am sure
would have been great companions, but none that seemed to be that
special one we were looking for. Then my wife called me over to one of
the cages outdoors, where males were being held, and asked, "What do you
think of him?" Standing in front of me was a beautiful black and white
dog. We asked an attendant about him, and the attendant retrieved the
card with the shelter assigned name, and their guess about breed. He was
listed as a lab mix, but he was clearly a collie with shorter than
normal hair. He seemed very nervous at first, and did not want a leash
put on him. We learned that he had been abandoned by his owners and left
tied up behind their house when they moved away. Luckily, the next door
neighbors fed him and eventually brought him to the shelter. When we
found him, it was his first day there. We brought him home, and given
several days time, he learned that the leash was a good thing and would
love the leash the rest of his life.
Austin was a wonderful friend to all people he met. He was a very pretty
animal and whenever we took him anywhere, people would come up to us and
strike up a conversation while petting him. We met so many interesting
and nice people, thanks to Austin and his charm. He loved going to the
Vet, and thankfully until his final year, only went for routine
checkups. Our animal hospital loved him as well and whenever he was
there, a joyous atmosphere prevailed. He would "talk" for Dr. Modrcin,
and the rest of the staff, and going there with him was always so much
fun.
Austin was a wonderful friend and companion to his "little sister,"
Jessi, whom we adopted one year later in June, 1993. They were the best
of companions, and traveled with us on many trips around the country.
Jessi is still with us, and we know she also misses her "big brother"
very much. Austin exhibited great intelligence and skill when it came to
getting along with Jessi. As is normal with dogs, Jessi, always wanted
the toy or chew Austin had. When this happened, Austin would immediately
switch to another toy or chew close by, and then Jessi would want that
one instead. Austin would calmly go back to the original one, and all
were happy. This was a characteristic of his personality. He was
happiest when all around him were peaceful
I will always believe that Austin was a "gift from God" and we were so
fortunate to have been awarded the 14 and-and-a-half years we spent with
him. It is our hope that he awaits us at the "rainbow bridge" where we
will someday be reunited with all the wonderful companions we have known
throughout our lives.
Submitted by Mike and Becky Malotte
Olathe, Kansas
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Rebecca
We got Rebecca at the pound on Christmas Eve. We had been told she had a very little chance of surviving. She had been badly abused and starved in the 4 months of her short little life. We feel her life started the day we brought her home. The pound could not get her to eat anything. When we brought her home, Zoey (our other pound girl) went up to her, walked her over to her food dish, and she started to eat.
We had 8 wonderful years with a little girl who was not supposed to live. She was the second blessing we had on a Christmas Eve, as Zoey was born on Christmas Eve two years before.
Now both of my girls are together again. We love and miss you both!
Michele
(submitted by Michele Braun)
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Zoey
We got Zoey when she was 6 weeks old from our local pound. From the very beginning she was loving and smart. She knew every toy by name. You could talk to her and she knew just what you were saying. When people would ask me what kind of dog she was, I would just tell them "Loved."
Two years after getting Zoey we brought our second pound baby home, Rebecca. Zoey took over and made a very abused Rebecca whole again.
Zoey was always with me even after she got diabetes and could no longer see. She still knew where I was and she fought hard to stay well. She did not like to see me sad. But the fight is over now and she is with Rebecca.
She is loved and missed!
Michelle
(submitted by Michelle Braun)
Rocket Ron
THERE is sorrow
enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own
affair—
But . . . you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve.
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
The Power of the Dog
Rudyard Kipling
We gave our hearts to Rocket Ron to tear
because he unconditionally gave his to us. Thank you to all of the
doctors, nurses, senior students, techs and other staff who came into
RR’s life over the last 6 ½ years. You gave him the care and love he
needed to persevere with joy for three years beyond what we thought
possible. May he live in all of our hearts until the end of our days.
- Submitted by Jo Gutgsell, Steve Haack
and J. Joe Gutgsell (nanny)
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