2026 Pet Memorials

April 2026

Riley Podbilski

Riley was not the kind of dog you almost missed.Though, truth be told, that is exactly how it began.

He was at the SVAS in the fall of 2015, raising a racket like he had a personal disagreement with the whole world. Barking at the walls, the people, the air itself. The kind of dog you might walk past just to find a little quiet. And Roberta did. Walked right past him.

But her husband stopped.

And Riley, who had something to say to everyone, suddenly had nothing to say at all. He sat down. Looked up. And in that small pause, everything shifted. That was the moment Riley came home, even before anyone signed a paper.

He arrived with a body that remembered harder days. Paws that had known cold for too long. A tail that had been broken somewhere along the line. He did not come polished. He came honest. And in time, he became theirs in the fullest sense of the word.

Riley took his job seriously after that. Protector of the house. Watcher of doors. Announcer of all things suspicious, including but not limited to delivery trucks, passing cars, and the general idea of strangers. His bark carried, and he meant it to.

But that was only one side of him.

There was the Riley who sat on the couch like it was his post, keeping an eye on the world through the window. The Riley who ran himself into happiness at the cabin, back and forth between the lake and the trees, then stopped just long enough to sit in the breeze like he had nowhere else to be.

There was the Riley who loved peanut butter and popcorn and watermelon, and believed firmly in checking every bag that came through the door in case something had been forgotten at the bottom. The Riley who followed the sound of cooking like it was music, waiting patiently for a pot to cool so he could do his part in cleaning it out. Spaghetti nights were his favorite, even if it meant ending up with a face that smelled like supper and a few kisses to follow.

He had his routines. His spots. His ways of belonging.Once small enough to curl up on the arm of a chair after a late shift, sharing a quiet snack. Later, big enough to take up half the bed without apology.

And always, always ready to greet you at the door like you had been gone a lifetime, jumping high enough to make you laugh no matter the kind of day you had

Apollo Podbilski

March 3, 2017 - adoption day- April 19, 2027

There are some dogs who fill a house with energy, and then there are the ones who quietly fill it with presence. Apollo was the latter. A steady kind of soul. The kind you could feel even when he was just lying nearby, watching, waiting, keeping gentle track of the people he loved.

Each day, without fail, he kept a small ritual. About an hour before Roberta came home, Apollo would make his way to the window. He didn’t need a clock. He didn’t need a reminder. He simply knew. And there he would sit, looking down the street in the direction she would appear, patient and certain in a way only dogs can be.

He wasn’t just watching.

He was waiting.

And when the moment finally came, when the familiar car pulled into view, Apollo would hop down from his post and make his way to the door. No grand performance. Just a kiss. A quiet, loving greeting that said everything that needed to be said.

He was, at heart, a water dog. The kind who understood the joy of a lake without needing explanation. There was happiness in those moments, the simple kind, the kind that doesn’t ask for anything more than being present in it. And when the day was done, he was just as content curled up close, tucked into bed, finding his place right beside the people who were his whole world.

Apollo had a way of following along, room to room, never in a hurry, never demanding. Just there. A companion in the truest sense of the word.

And that’s what remains now. Not just the big memories, but the quiet ones. A dog in a window. A familiar shape at the door. The soft weight beside you at the end of the day.

Apollo didn’t need to be anything more than what he was.

And what he was, was everything.

March 2026

Nola Martinez

Some dogs pass through the world quickly, but they still manage to fill a home with more love than anyone thought possible.

Nola was a sweet little mini bulldog with a gentle heart and a personality just a bit bigger than her sturdy frame. She came into her family’s life for about a year, but in that short time she made herself completely at home.

Nola had the special good fortune of being loved by not just one family, but two. The kind of dog who leaves a trail of smiles wherever she goes, she found her way straight into the hearts of everyone who met her. You might say she had mucho amor to give, and she shared it freely.

She was also a very smart little girl. Nola learned her tricks in Spanish, and she seemed quite proud of it. If someone said “Nola, dame la patita,” she would gently place her paw into their hand, looking up as if to say, muy bien, I did it. It became one of those small everyday moments that made people smile every single time.

And like many clever dogs, Nola understood that house rules are sometimes… flexible. Officially, there were no dogs allowed in the bed. Reglas de la casa. But Nola had a way of quietly sneaking under the covers anyway, curling up close where she felt she belonged. Somehow, those rules didn’t seem quite so important when there was a warm little bulldog snuggled beside you.

For a family who found themselves far from home and relatives during difficult times, Nola became something steady and comforting. She brought laughter, companionship, and the kind of everyday joy that comes from a wagging tail, soft snuggles, and a gentle paw placed in your hand.

Though her time here was heartbreakingly short, Nola’s story is still one of love. Two families were lucky enough to care for her, laugh with her, and say te queremos, Nola.

And a small bulldog who understood a little Spanish, a little English, and a whole lot of love managed to leave a mark that will not soon be forgotten. 🐾

February 2026

Alex Brandt

September 11, 2011-February 28, 2026

Some dogs spend their lives learning how to be good. And then, every so often, a dog like Alex comes along who seems to have been born already knowing.

Alex, carried himself with a quiet grace that made people wonder if someone had secretly trained him before he ever arrived home. He had that steady sort of temperament that makes life run a little smoother without anyone quite noticing how it happens.

He was polite, attentive, and seemed to understand the rhythm of a household as naturally as breathing. But more than that, Alex had a way of guiding people. In fact, it was his own calm and loving nature that gently nudged his mom toward helping him become a therapy dog. It was simply the kind of work he was meant for.

Wherever there was someone who needed comfort, Alex seemed to know.

But Alex was never just a therapy dog.

He was family.

He was there for ordinary evenings and long conversations, for laughter echoing around the kitchen, and for the quiet moments that only a good dog ever really understands. And he was there when life grew and changed, welcoming new people just as naturally as he welcomed sunshine through the window.

Of course, even the most dignified dogs have their moments. One family story has already become legend. On one particular day, Hanah had made a frozen pizza for Trey and his pals to take on a road trip. It was carefully prepared and waiting to go. But somewhere between the hustle and bustle of packing; Alex discovered the pizza first. And ate the whole thing, they found him licking his lips with a look of quiet contentment.

But when Alex’s family speaks about him, the memories that rise to the surface most often are the quiet ones.

The steady companionship.

The feeling of a gentle presence always nearby.

The way he seemed to walk beside them through life’s hardest seasons and its brightest celebrations alike.

And perhaps that is the true measure of a good dog.

Not the tricks they learn, or the titles they earn.

But the quiet way they carry us through life simply by being there.

Alex did that beautifully.

And because of that, he will always remain part of the story of his family in the laughter, in the memories, and in the quiet places where love stays long after pawprints fade.

January 2026

Charlie Johnson

April 30, 2013-January 22, 2025

Charlie came into a home that was just beginning to grow, joining a family with two young girls and a future unfolding in real time. From the very start, he fit himself right into the rhythm of their days, moving with them through every stage of a young family becoming itself.

He was there for lake days and driveway sprints, for the thrill of sledding adventures where hats were never safe, and for trampoline afternoons where shoes mysteriously disappeared. Charlie ran a 5K, took long walks to Dairy Queen, and always seemed to know when it was time to slow down and take a nap together. He dug holes with purpose, raced through sprinklers with joy, and embraced enrichment like it was a job he took seriously.

Charlie had a way of asking for love that could not be ignored, a gentle paw, a nudge of his head, a quiet insistence that now was the right time for affection. He soaked up the sun beside his friend Cooper, content just to be near the people and animals he loved. And no matter how many memories followed, there was always something special about the very first day, the day they chose him, and he chose them right back.

Charlie did not just witness this family growing up. He helped shape it. His love ran through their days like sunlight through an open window, steady, warm, and always present. And though his paws no longer race down the driveway, his spirit remains woven into every laugh, every story, and every moment where love shows up exactly when it is needed most.

Charlie Tix

10 years

of Motion, Mud, and Love

Charlie was a red lab with a heart built for movement.

Ten years fit him perfectly. Years spent alongside an active family who believed the best memories were made outdoors. With four kids racing through life and engines humming in the background Charlie never had to wonder where he belonged. He was always right there.

The lake was one of his favorite places. Water meant joy and freedom and the kind of happiness that ended with a good shake and a grin. But one moment captures Charlie best.

Tucker pedaling his bike down the dirt track. Helmet ties flapping. Charlie running behind him at full stride. Ears flying. Tongue out. Completely certain this was exactly what he was made for.

Charlie did not slow life down. He ran alongside it.

He grew with the kids. He kept pace with the noise and laughter and anchored the chaos with loyalty and presence. When the engines stopped and the day finally settled Charlie was there too tired in the best way content and home.

Ten years was enough time to leave pawprints on every chapter of a family’s story. And though Charlie is no longer seen he is not gone.

He is still running. 

Still keeping up. 

Still part of every ride.

Chloe Compeau

2019-January 10, 2026

Seven Years, Softly Loved

Chloe was the kind of cat who understood the rhythm of a home.

Black and white, nearly tuxedo in her elegance, she moved through the world with quiet confidence; never in a hurry, never uncertain of where she belonged. At seven years old, she had already mastered the art of being present without demanding attention, offering companionship without condition.

She loved her patrols most of all. Not the busy kind... no frantic chasing or dramatic leaps, but slow, deliberate strolls through the neighborhood. Chloe knew her territory well. She checked her corners, greeted the familiar sounds, and made her way home when the sun dipped low, satisfied that all was as it should be.

Before Chloe, there was a man of the house, someone deeply loved, now gone ahead. And now, Cindy finds herself with one more angel keeping watch. One more quiet presence standing guard in the unseen spaces, making sure love does not wander too far from home.

Chloe didn’t just live alongside her family. She kept them; kept their routines steady, their days softer, their home anchored. And though her footsteps are no longer heard on her lazy rounds, her watch continues in a different way now.

Some guardians wear wings.

 Some wear whiskers.

 And some, like Chloe, wear both.