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GOLDSTAR REMEMBERS
With sincere condolences on the passing of these fine animal friends
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JACK
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April Werner, local psychotherapist and UNM teacher and her dog Jack.
Our sympathies to April.
Jack died on January 29, 2010
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SHILOH
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 Shiloh, Sandy Miller's golden retriever, died of bone cancer complications July 23, 2008.
Shiloh was undoubtedly the hardest working member of Goldstar's pet partners here in Taos. He was the inspiration of many new pet partner teams, a friend to everyone he met, as he spread joy and cheer wherever he went.
Shiloh was 10 yrs old. He was adopted by Sandy through the Golden Retriever Rescue in Albuquerque when he was 4 years old. He spent over 2 years training for search and rescue work and received his airscent certification through Pajarito Ski Patrol in Los Alamos.
As a therapy dog, Shiloh visited elders, children, teens in the Taos area spreading his good cheer. Some of the facilities he visited included:
Taos Living Center- animal visitation
Enos Garcia Elementary School - Reading Education Assistance Dog
Girltime - Community Wellness
Community Against Violence - adults and children
Holy Cross Health Fair
Taos Public Library
Child, Youth and Family Services of NM - foster family picnic
Dentist Kellie Harris's office - Smile Days for children
Chamisa Mesa High School
UNM Taos - Family Behavior -Sociology class,
Pet Partner demonstrations - Goldstar Pet Fair, Goldstar team practices, Delta Society evaluations
Shiloh was a shining example of a true pet partner. He will be sadly missed.
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JEEP
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CUP
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Joel Gottlieb's "Jeep"
pictured here at age 7 weeks
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Our condolences to Emily Schumacher on the loss of her Delta Society Pet Partner dog, Cup.
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Judith Miller's first Delta Society Pet Partner, Kazak. |
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GRETTA
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Our sympathy to Joan Donnelly on the loss of Gretta, her German Shepherd.
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Best Friends
Remembering My Dog Sadie
by Randy Arnowitz
Reprinted from http://www.independent.com/news/2006/aug/10/creature-features/
When my golden retriever, Sadie, died I canceled the paper and unplugged the phone. I let the battery on my cell run out past the one-bar danger zone and beyond that annoying beeping reminder. I didn't want anything to get in. I hauled my bed up into the secret loft that is accessed by a wooden ladder in my bedroom. I wished for a loft above my loft so I could go even farther up. Farther up and away.
Away, from the haunting and grainy X-rays that to me resembled ominous, dark gray storm clouds gathering, twisting, billowing over a dangerously still and eerily quiet Kansas landscape but to the veterinarian, unquestionably showed that Sadie's lymphoma had rapidly- in a short two weeks - progressed to the point that even chemo would prove useless. Away, from the time now past that I shared with this remarkable dog, who loved me so completely and constantly that I sometimes felt unworthy and burdened by the responsibility of all that love and all those warm nose-kisses.
It would be weeks before I could bring myself to vacuum my apartment; I didn't want to say goodbye to the last remnants of her that were still blowing from room to room around my apartment like fluffy, golden tumbleweeds. I felt comforted by the fact that part of her was still with me and was convinced that in some miraculous way I could sweep up all those ghostly puffs and make them into another Sadie. I figured that if they could reassemble a dinosaur from the DNA leftovers found in Jurassic-period amber, I should be able to clone my dog from all that dog hair. Because her passing was so startlingly sudden it seemed as if she had magically disappeared into what seemed to be my instant history. My current life now excluded her and it was unthinkable that the only tangible evidence of her was now in the Hoover.
A few months have passed and I have descended from my loft. I've turned on my phone. I've begun to allow in bits of the sweet memories that have started to shine through one snippet at a time.
One morning, when I first got Sadie, I had stopped in for one of my ritual blended mocha drinks at a local java hut. After placing it in the cup holder, I got out of my truck for a moment to go into the bank to run an errand. When I returned, all the whipped cream had mysteriously vanished from inside the plastic bubble dome that covered the drink. When I looked over at Sadie, she was very nonchalantly and just a little too innocently gazing out the opposite window while stealing occasional, darting glimpses of me from the corner of her eye. How she got her dainty, silky tongue through the little hole in the top of the drink and cleaned out all the whipped cream in such a short time I'll never know, but from then on, I always made a habit of accidentally leaving my mochas unattended for a few moments.
I have since returned to Hendry's Beach (Sadie's favorite dog beach) where on a Sunday there is such a hodgepodge of canines running, digging, barking, and playing tag that I feel as if I'm window shopping. A burly chocolate lab hurdles over a Dr. Seuss wiener-dog mix while a nappy-headed labradoodle plays giant kelp tug-of-war with a Hungarian puli. I mentally try each of them on but know that inevitably my heart will be stolen by another special golden dog that will mend the break and again make my heart glow and sing. |
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