We always miss the canines that we have helped mend or care for and ultimately place in a loving permanent home environment. We feel that those are success and we wanted to share them. However, rescue is not without it's sadness. The inability to squeeze another canine in when it is life or death situation, the inability to find a home for a senior or special needs canine, and last but not least is when a beloved animal crosses the bridge.
If you have loved and lost any fur-child our hearts our with you.
For those that have adopted from Prayers N Paws or contributed to us in anyway and would like to have a few words and/or (space permitting) a photo of your special dude or dudette place here. Please send a photo and a few words and we will post as many as we can to this site.
Please email the webmaster and use MEMORIAL as the subject line.
He came to me on a Sunday in December, 2004. His previous owner had adopted him from the Charlotte, NC shelter and found Henry’s problems were more than she could handle. He suffered from an extreme case of separation anxiety, and she couldn’t find resources sufficient to help him learn to adapt. That December morning, I received a phone call from a hysterical woman in Charlotte. She was sobbing, begging me to take this big, red Doberman, as she was at wits end. She had tried everything she could think of and nothing worked. In the end, Henry had done damage to her garage when she closed him in as she left for work. If she took him back to the shelter, she knew he’d be put to sleep immediately as “unadoptable.” I told the woman I would contact my vet on Monday, and gain his advice as to how to handle such a case. That was the best I could do at the moment. Or so I thought. An hour later the phone rang again, and it was the daughter of that hysterical woman! “PLEASE,” she begged. “You’ve GOT to take this beautiful creature in, because Mom is not capable of dealing with him another 24 hours!” After some polite suggestions, I saw I was getting nowhere, so I gave in and agreed to take Henry in if his owner could bring him to me. Running a Doberman rescue and working full time provided little free time to prepare for the following week, and going to Charlotte simply was not on the menu that day. Period.
After agreeing to take on Henry’s case of separation anxiety – which I had only seen once before, and found NO support from the rescuer who conned me into taking that pitiful Doberman some years prior – I was not at all certain Henry and I would have much of a future. I mean, an anxious, frightened, 85 pound Doberman can do some damage! Still, I’d opened my mouth and agreed to try.
That December evening, the lady from Charlotte arrived, unloading this huge, red, anxious Doberman – Henry. Our journey was about to begin! Over the next few weeks I worked with Henry on his separation anxiety, finding help from medications my vet prescribed. Crating Henry when I was gone helped as well; yet he would deliberately escape the fenced yard when turned out to exercise and gallop about the neighborhood. This frightened the bejeebers out of the neighbors (much to my amusement, I’ll admit), and frustrating me no end. I began to wonder if I’d made a huge mistake; this Dobe would take off like a bat outt’a hell, refuse to come when called, but show up in time for dinner that night when I ignored his absence.
January of 2005 smiled on me. A woman from Richmond, Virginia wanted to adopt Henry. She claimed to know all about separation anxiety, how to handle it, and to have a very securely fenced yard from which he could not escape. I couldn’t WAIT to get him into her hands – and her van! She arrived to pick Henry up with a brand new winter Dober-coat in hand – black to my recollection. Henry had a new collar, lead, new owner, and I was going to have some RELIEF from his antics. With great patience, I gave the woman the medications with written instructions for their use for Henry. Patiently, I told her several times how his separation anxiety could get out of hand if not provided a “safe place” such as his crate, AND his meds. As she and Henry drove out of the driveway that night, I had a huge, broad smile pasted across my face! Luck at last!! Henry was on his way to his furever home…. …..well, for two weeks that was. Yes, exactly two weeks later, the Richmond woman called stating she was on her way BACK to return Henry, because he had eaten through two seat belts, torn his new winter coat to shreds, and refused to stay in her “securely fenced” yard. Great. Just what I needed – to have this red bundle of nerves back in my home.
The night Henry came back, he actually came home. I didn’t know it then, but after helping the Richmond woman bring in the dog food, torn bedding, leashes and collars she’d bought for him, she bid me a swift “good bye,” and drove off Henry and I sat just staring at each other – he on the couch, and me in my chair. Henry and I were well into our almost-five-year journey; I just didn’t know it – maybe he did.
Over the next months I worked with Henry closely, and he did an immediate turn-around. He still resented having to wear clothing on occasion, until I showed him his new Service Dog Cape. The Cape was worn under his harness – a working harness! Henry became my Service Dog – a “Walker Dog” to be precise. He was now responsible for helping me navigate up and down steep flights of stairs, manage to climb street curbs when my arthritis was particularly bad, and of course to keep “intruders” from our hotel room when we traveled. Henry was a natural, he thrived on working. He took his job very seriously, and became my closest travel companion. Getting him into his Cape and harness was never an issue – when they came out, he knew we were in for some FUN!!
Over the years of travel, Henry met only one force of nature with which he had NO idea how to deal…a mid-sized black cat. Onyx is owned by a dear friend who is also the webmaster for the rescue organization. She let Henry and me drop by for dinner as he and I were on our way to Columbia, South Carolina. As Onyx sauntered into the dining area, Henry absolutely froze in place – mesmerized by this black, somewhat smallish creature. I have no idea how many minutes passed, yet Henry was intent on sort of a Mexican showdown with Onyx. Frozen pup-sickle. Statue. Hardly breathing. MY great SERVICE DOG HENRY!! (How embarrassing…)
This past August, Henry reinjured his left hock, which had been injured years before he came to live with me. One very, very early morning (2:20 a.m. to be precise) Henry got me out of bed to let him out to lift a leg. When he came back in, he was hobbling on three legs, holding that left rear leg up, not touching the ground. We visited the vet, and found through x-rays that there was no bone or knee damage, but obvious inflammation around the already-injured joint. Who knows what he did? Or how? Yet, he did, so was put on meds for pain and inflammation. I monitored all his activities, never letting him get too wound up, and he began to improve. My primary worry was over his “good” hind leg, which had obviously been overused throughout the years after the initial injury. All I could do was monitor and give him his meds. So I did.
Weeks passed, and some days were better than others. I saw Henry sometimes struggle to get off the floor, even with carpeting under his feet for traction. Somewhere, deep inside my heart, I knew there would come a time when he could no longer do that – but are we ever prepared for “That Time?” I mean, really prepared? Try as I might, I’m never, never ready.
I wasn’t ready Monday, November 16, 2009, when, upon returning from four days of vacation, I found Henry unable to get and keep his hind legs up under himself at all. This time, it was me who froze, watching Henry try so hard to keep his rear end balance, still all ears, interest and heart. There was no choice – I will not let my furkids suffer. As tears streamed down my face, and sobs of sadness escaped with my breathing, Henry gallantly tried to jump up in the back of my Jeep – the place he always began our travel together. This would be our last time, our final drive. With my heart barely beating, my wet face twisted in pain, I did what had to be done. I was there, holding my dearest friend in his last moments on this side of the veil.
Henry left me with so much more than sadness at his departing. He left me lessons I will carry onto his successor, Harvey, who is already learning how to help me negotiate steps. Henry taught me I could do anything I set my mind to do, even if I need a little help from a four-legged friend and confidant. Henry showed me what pure loyalty, trust and love look like; I’d know them from a mile away! They’re all bundled up in a huge, red, galloping Doberman as he investigates his new surroundings at The Rainbow Bridge. Henry’s met some of those who have passed on before him, and as sure as my spirit is alive today, when I go on, I know who will lead the gang of critters who await my arrival – Henry, my Service Dog - protector, guide, guardian, my most loyal friend. Rest well, my love; I’ll see you soon.