Honoring Our Beloved Pets: Pet Memorials

These memorials are added in chronological order; with the most recent entries at the Top.

"Snowball" Romfo

In every household, there’s often a character who makes the rules quietly and enforces them with a meow or a glare. For his family, that was Snowball.

Snowball was the most loving and moody cat you’d ever meet, a fellow who believed that meals were meant to be shared and that love was best proven through presence. If you were gone too long, he’d let you know—sometimes by hiding, sometimes by turning his back, and sometimes by giving you one minute of cuddles before casting a long, accusatory stare for the rest of the day.

Yet beneath that temper was devotion of the truest sort. Snowball had a bond with his person that time could never fray. Each night, he followed him downstairs, waiting patiently to be scooped up and carried into the bedroom. When he was young, he’d been “forced” into nightly cuddles until they became his choice—his ritual. Soon he would not rest unless he was pressed close, sometimes beneath the covers, always touching, as though to reassure himself that his person was near.

Mornings were his special time. Long before the alarm, Snowball knew when it was coming, and he’d gently rouse his person hours earlier, all in the name of extra cuddles. Then, when he heard Mom moving about upstairs, he’d want out for his customary belly rub.

He was no hunter—at least that’s what everyone thought—until his last summer in the camper when Snowball surprised them all with a mouse. Even with his few teeth, he still managed a moment of pride.

Snowball was a master of attention. If someone sat, he expected a lap. If food was to be served, he ensured no one forgot. If affection was needed, he demanded it. And when his person left, his heart broke so deeply that even food lost its appeal.

Snowball lived as the most loving cat a family could ask for—sometimes moody, sometimes stubborn, but always true. He will forever be remembered as the one who taught his family what it means to be loved every night, every morning, and every moment in between.

"Pebbles" Lilly

In a cozy house with big love, tucked between wedding vows and baby giggles, lived a cat

named Pebbles. She arrived not in a box with a bow, but in a gesture of new beginnings—a wedding gift from Souris Valley Animal Shelter, gifted not just to a couple, but to the life they were building.

And what a life she chose. Pebbles, with her speckled fur like gravel dust after a summer rain, had a calm about her—an old-soul stillness that wasn’t shaken by door slams or toddler squeals, not even the occasional dropped casserole dish. She moved through the seasons of that house like a quiet witness, always there, never fussed. She stretched across counters, sprawled across car hoods in the shop, and made herself at home in laundry baskets, garden chairs, and laps that hadn’t even been offered. She believed every place was hers, and in a way, she was right.

Her favorite spot, though, was out in the yard, beneath the tangled green of the raspberry bush. There she would settle in with the breeze and birdsong, and come out hours later with pink-stained fur and the same dignified look—like royalty who had decided to dabble in jam-making. It was under those raspberry canes that her name made the most sense: Pebbles, part fruit-stained, part unshakable.

She saw it all—new jobs, new rooms, new faces. And she never needed fanfare. She just needed a warm spot, a sunbeam, and a family that understood that sometimes the best kind of love is the quiet kind.

And now, as the seasons roll on and the raspberries ripen, the family still looks for her under the bush. Still half expects to see a twitching tail or hear a soft rustle. Because some cats never leave a house—they simply melt into the heartbeat of it. Goodbye, Pebbles. And thank you for laying around for awhile.

"Stiehl" Brown

In a quiet little town where the grass grows tall by the lake and summer seems to last just a little longer, there lived a black lab named Stiehl—a dog who didn’t just chase balls; he collected them like memories.

Stiehl was no ordinary retriever. With the uncanny ability to fit three tennis balls in his mouth and release them one by one, like a gumball machine made of wagging tail and loyalty, he became a legend in his own right. Children would pause to watch, jaws dropping as he trotted up with a grin and a mouthful of yellow fuzz, ready for the next round. Adults laughed, shaking their heads, wondering how he did it. But for Stiehl, it was just Tuesday.

The lake was his second home, maybe even his first. Cast a stick or a ball into those glimmering waters, and Stiehl would leap without hesitation—paws flying, tail spinning like a propeller. He never questioned the task. He never waited for applause. He just went, because someone he loved wanted it back.

And love was something Stiehl understood deeply. He had the kind of heart that beat in time with yours, the kind of presence that settled in beside you when the world was loud and your soul was tired. He didn’t offer solutions. He didn’t ask questions. He just was—warm and steady and perfectly present.

Some say dogs are man's best friend. But Stiehl was more than a best friend. He was a lake guardian, a ball-champion, and a silent therapist who sat beside you on hard days without asking why.

Now, the lake is a little quieter, the yard a bit less chaotic. But when the sun hits the water just right and the sound of laughter echoes from the shore, you might just swear you hear a splash—and picture a black blur flying into the waves, chasing love one more time.

Good boy, Stiehl. You did good.

"Harlow" Kremer

It's funny how a whole lifetime of memories can begin with something as small as a kiss from a puppy who hasn't even opened her eyes yet. That's how Harlow's story began-just a few days old, tiny enough to fit in the palm of a hand, and already handing out kisses like she had places to be and people to love.

She came into BreeAnna's life during senior year of high school, when sneaking a dog past your parents felt like the sort of harmless rebellion that built character. Harlow went to school, made friends in the hallway, won over teachers, and quickly became the kind of dog who made everyone feel like they were someone special. She wasn't just smart-she was tuned in, like she'd read the syllabus and your soul, and was ready to help with both.

People noticed Harlow. At red lights, strangers would roll down their windows just to say hello to her. Not every dog gets that kind of attention-but then again, not every dog walks around with a sparkle in her eye and a bounce in her step like she's just remembered a good secret.

She loved Easter egg hunts-yes, really. Bree would fill the plastic eggs with treats, and Harlow would open them with a level of joy that made grown adults want to join in. She lived for sunshine, for fetch, for every car ride, and every quiet moment under a desk at work-always close, always content.

And then there was the kitten. When a small, mewing ball of fur came home, Harlow-gentle soul that she was-made herself as tiny as she could to get face to face. The two became inseparable. Maybe they were old friends reunited, or maybe it was just Harlow's way-loving fully, and without condition.

Above all, what set Harlow apart was the pure love she gave-every single day, to every person and creature she met. She didn't need a big stage-just a ride in the car, a few plastic eggs, a friend or two, and a place to belong.

And for those lucky enough to know her, they'll carry her joy, her loyalty, and her lighthearted love in their hearts forever. She was one of a kind-and isn't it something, how a little dog can leave such a big legacy?

"Jeta" Geltel

A good dog in a good life, well-lived.

Up at the family farm, where the prairie wind moves like music through the tall grass and pheasants dart like feathery fireworks across the field, that’s where Jeta was in her element. She’d chase with purpose, tail wagging like a banner, ears flying back in the breeze—those curly ears, signature Jeta. And in the summertime, when the pontoon boat puttered across the lake under the wide Dakota sky, there she’d be again—head high, wind in her face, the picture of contentment.

Jeta was a dog who made love look easy. She had two boys, Jaxson and Kelyn, and patience enough to bottle and sell if you could only figure out how. No matter the noise, the wrestling, the spills or scraped knees—Jeta was there. Gentle, loyal, and always ready with her favorite form of greeting: a roll onto her back, belly up, as if to say, “Welcome home. I saved this spot just for you.”

Her evenings were a page from a family storybook: a worn tennis ball in her mouth, the backyard echoing with laughter, and later, the flicker of campfires dancing in her eyes as she settled into the night with her people. She was steady like that. Constant.

And then came Ollie. Just a pup when she arrived, all legs and wonder. She attached herself to Jeta like a burr to a wool sock—couldn’t bear to be more than a tail’s length away. Jeta, for her part, tolerated the hero worship with the quiet grace of an old soul. She taught Ollie the important things: how to wait your turn, how to love big, and how belly rubs—if requested with enough charm—were always worth the ask.

Jeta and Ollie became a duo. Where one went, the other followed. And though their time together was brief, it was enough. Enough for Ollie to learn what a good dog looks like. Enough for the rest of us to witness the quiet passing of wisdom from one heart to another.

Jeta was the kind of dog you don’t get twice. The kind who knew when to run, when to stay, and how to love with her whole being. She was the soul of summer afternoons, the warmth by the fire, the soft presence at your feet when the day had gone all wrong.

And now, though the pheasants still run wild and the pontoon still hums across the lake, something feels a little quieter. But if you listen close—just as the sun slips down behind the cottonwoods—you might hear the soft jingle of a collar, the rustle of paws in the tall grass, and know that Jeta’s still out there somewhere, chasing joy.

Because that’s what good dogs do.

"Jax" Medina

There’s a place, somewhere between the last breath of one life and the first breath of another, where the veil is thin and time stands still. I like to think that’s where Jax was waiting—not ready to go, not ready to stay—but pausing just long enough to pass the torch. One soul on the way out, another just arriving. Maybe they met there, just for a moment.

Jax was more than a dog. He was the kind of companion you don’t find twice in a lifetime—the kind who doesn’t just walk beside you, but carries part of your burden for you. Born in the warm Colorado summer of 2011, he crossed paths with a Marine fresh out of service in Salt Lake City that fall. It wasn’t planned. The best things never are.

In those early days, the world felt heavier than it should. The structure and chaos of service had faded, and civilian life didn’t come with a manual. But Jax? Jax came with a wagging tail, an open heart, and the kind of loyalty that doesn’t flinch. He was there through the long nights, the hard days, and the quiet moments in between. The kind of dog who didn’t need words to understand. He just knew.

Together they traveled, Jax and his person, cutting paths across the country like old-time wanderers. Visiting brothers-in-arms, chasing healing one mile at a time. When the road got long, they curled up in the back of a truck—Jax always watchful, always on guard. A sentry in fur, making sure his person was safe, even when sleep tugged at his own eyes.

There was a day in Niagara Falls, the kind that stays with you even as the years slip by. Jax, full of joy, leapt into the water and chased after the birds as if he could fly. And for a second, it looked like he just might.

Jax was a dog, yes—but to call him only that would be to miss the whole point. He was a companion, a guardian, a road trip buddy, and above all, a true friend. The kind you can count on. The kind you never really say goodbye to.

He left this world just as a new one arrived—one baby breath beginning where his last breath ended. It feels like no accident. It feels like Jax, in his quiet, noble way, was still standing guard.

Rest well, good boy. You were, and always will be, deeply loved.

"Ditto" Martin

There are dogs who walk beside us, and then there are dogs who seem woven into the very fabric of our lives. Ditto was the latter—a constant presence, a steady shadow, a guardian in the truest sense of the word.

Named after the Pokémon known for its ability to adapt and transform, Ditto lived up to her name in the most remarkable ways. She was a fearless protector during late-night horror movie marathons, a willing playmate in the backyard, and a soft, warm place to rest a weary head. But her greatest transformation of all came when the family brought home their first child.

The excitement in her eyes was unmistakable—tail wagging, ears perked, the purest joy radiating from her sleek black coat. And yet, somehow, she knew. Knew that this tiny new life was different. That her usual boundless energy had to be softened, her exuberance tempered with care. She approached with gentle reverence, laying the foundation of a bond that would grow between them—protector, sibling, best friend.

For years, Ditto was the ever-watchful sentinel of a home filled with love, laughter, and just the right amount of spooky charm. She was a fixture in every cherished moment, as much a part of the family as the beating of its heart.

Now, the house feels a little quieter. The shadows are a little longer. But if ever there was a soul who would linger in the best possible way, it is hers. In the patter of little feet, in the warmth of a shared blanket on the couch, in the stillness of a night when something unseen makes you feel a little less alone—Ditto is there. Ever-present. Ever-faithful. Always, always Ditto.

Rest well, sweet girl. You were, and always will be, so deeply loved.

"Beamer" Stalnik

We’ve a story to tell about Beamer, a thirteen-year-old dog who was the heart of his airforce family—Mom, Dad, and their two young boys. He was a loyal companion, sticking by them through every twist and turn, from long separations to joyful reunions. Beamer didn’t ask for much, just a spot near his people, and he gave back love in spades.

He wasn’t fond of power tools, mind you—when Dad pulled out the drill, Beamer’d hightail it to a quieter corner, tail tucked like he’d seen a ghost. But he loved those project days all the same. As long as Dad was home, working away, Beamer was close by, his soft fur brushing against a leg or two, content to keep company. Alone time wasn’t his style—he’d rather be part of the action, even if it was noisy.

That fur of his was something special, soft as a spring breeze, and he let anyone pet him who needed a little comfort. His boys, though—they were his world. He’d play with them ‘til they were breathless, guard their secrets, and curl up beside them at night like a big, warm shadow. Through thick and thin, Beamer was there, a steady friend with a wagging tail.

Now he’s crossed that rainbow bridge, and we like to think he’s found a place where the tools are silent and the fields stretch forever. Maybe he hears Dad’s voice calling him home. Rest well, Beamer. You’ll always be a good boy to those who loved you.

"Lily" Kruckenberg

Lily was the heart of her home, the little shadow who never left her owner’s side. She came into her life at 21 years old, the first baby, the constant companion through every season of change. She was there through life’s biggest moments—moving with her family after the 2011 flood, offering comfort in uncertain times, and later welcoming the first baby into the home.

In 2016, she settled into her forever home, where two more little sisters joined the family. Though she loved her people fiercely, she had no patience for the antics of young, energetic pups. As the eldest, she ruled the house with quiet authority, making it known that while she tolerated the newcomers, she was never one to be pestered.

Lily had strong opinions about life—she loved watching hunting shows, preferred peace and quiet over chaos, and carried herself with a dignity only an old soul could possess. Yet, she never turned down a snuggle, always finding a cozy spot next to the people she loved most.

Now, she takes her place among the stars, where all dogs go to heaven. Though deeply missed, her spirit lingers in the home she helped shape, in the hearts she loved, and in the countless memories of the family that will cherish her forever.

"Molly Mae" Frazier

Let us all come together to celebrate the life of Molly Mae, a golden retriever who didn’t just live life—she ran through it with a heart full of joy and a spirit that knew no bounds. Molly Mae wasn’t one to sit still. She lived for the chase, especially if it involved a tennis ball, and boy, could she run. Even as her legs began to fail her, that fierce determination never did. Her family, always looking out for her, got her a wagon, thinking it would ease her journey. But Molly Mae, being the independent soul she was, had other plans. She’d jump right out, refusing to be carried when there was still running to be done, still adventures to be had.

Her life wasn’t measured in miles or time, but in the love she gave and the memories she made. Molly Mae was more than just a dog; she was a constant in a world that kept moving. Her family traveled from one coast to another, making new houses feel like home, but no matter where they landed, wherever Molly was—that was where home truly was. She embodied loyalty and love, her presence bringing warmth to every place, every heart.

And it wasn’t just the big things about Molly Mae that her family will hold dear—it’s the little moments that paint the richest memories. The way she’d paw at your hand when you pet her, a silent request for more. How she’d stretch out on the bed and somehow, every night, manage to push you off, her own nightly ritual. Her big, exaggerated yawns, and how she somehow learned to say “I love you” in her own special way. Wrestling with her brothers, enjoying walks with so much enthusiasm that she'd practically pull your arm off, her sheer love for being outside, always soaking in the world around her.

And of course, the tennis balls. Molly Mae’s passion for tennis balls was unmatched. It didn’t matter how many times you threw one, she would always chase it down with that same puppy-like excitement. And who could forget her love for all human foods—carrots, green beans, and cheese being her top favorites, her face lighting up every time she got a taste.

For over 11 years, Molly Mae gave her family unconditional love. She lived life on her terms, with her paws in the dirt, the wind in her fur, and her heart wide open. Molly’s legs may have given out, but her spirit never did. She kept running, in her heart and in the memories she leaves behind, chasing one more tennis ball into the sunset.

Molly Mae is at peace now, but her presence, her loyalty, and that boundless energy will stay with her family forever. We don’t have just one favorite story of her because Molly was too full of life to be captured in a single moment. She was everything—a companion, a protector, a source of endless joy.

Safe travels, sweet Molly Mae. You’ve run your race, and now you’re finally home

"Daisy" De La Torre

Well folks, gather round to remember Daisy, a proud boxer who made her way from sunny Florida to the plains of Minot, ND. Now, Daisy wasn’t your average dog—oh no, she was part jester, part protector. Always ready to wrestle with life, she was a rough-and-tumble spirit who knew how to make her family feel safe.

She loved nothing more than lying out in the sun, soaking in the warmth as if she carried a little bit of Florida wherever she went. And you could always count on her for a laugh, too. Take Maggie’s first encounter with Daisy—She came in like a rocket aimed at her back, Maggie had no chance she took the hit, causing her to stumble forward into a bent position, and before she could straighten up, Daisy had her cornered, sneaking in a kiss right on the cheek. Daisy had a way of surprising you like that, gentle yet bold, making you feel loved before you even knew what hit you.

She was a loyal guardian, but more than that, she was a part of the family—a ray of sunshine and a protector wrapped into one lovable bundle of fur. The home may seem a little quieter now, the sunbeams a little less warm, but Daisy’s spirit, her love for her people and her joy for life—that will shine on. Safe travels, Daisy.

"Ty" Widdel

Ty was not just a typical herding border collie, he was also a teacher and followed his instruction impeccably. Jessinta, his owner, shared that Ty was an automatic herder and that anyone from a complete novice to a seasoned professional could herd one to one hundred sheep with Ty as a partner. 

Jessinta also shared a lovely story from his first home; Ty’s original trainer was starting out a new puppy inside her house. It is tradition in sheep herding to use whistles as commands; and she was introducing the young dog to this tradition. During this session she was stopped by her husband.  While she was training the pup, Ty heard the whistles and thought it was time to get to “work”, he was out in the pasture herding the sheep according to the whistles he heard from the house. 

A day herding or with his ball was never a day worked, it was what Ty loved to do. In his later years it became difficult for him to herd and chase his ball. Ty will be dearly missed by his family and the farm workers that interacted with him on a daily basis. 

"Gus" Raby

Where to start with little Augustus Mcrae Raby, Gus for short? He had a ferret friend for a short time, named Woodrow. Gus was my companion through my junior and senior years of college. My friends and I would take him to the large classes, making sure no professor would notice. One day, we even took him to a horror movie in the theater. He would hunker down in my huge purse and take a nap, we felt unstoppable, until he almost got me evicted. I groveled to my parents to take him home for me, with promises to take him back when I was done with school. They said yes, and his next chapter of life began. There was NO WAY my dad would let him leave the house, when I was done with school. 

Around Thanksgiving of 2014 my dad called me while I was away at vet school and he told me that he wasn’t able to use his hind legs; and then began the next chapter of his life. Many people felt bad for him and his disability, but not me. My dad gave him the best possible life he could. You could still find Gus chasing and stuffing his tennis balls, rooting around in the blankets, and out for crawls on the lawn. 

Gus had a zest for life, even up to the end. He always had time for a snuggle, or to bark at my brothers tall friends and my tall roommate, or to roll his ball under the couch. I know that Gus is in heaven with all 4 little legs working. I imagine him annoying his caretaker to get the ball from under the couch, ONE MORE TIME. 

"Driver" Lynne

Driver was the epitome of the phrase, “Dog is man’s best friend.” He loved the visitors that would come to his family's home, and would lean into the scratches that were offered. He had a high prey drive and when his beep collar was taken off, the world lived on his terms, he would go and smell any where he wanted. With that drive came the desire to protect those around him from those he deemed threatening. In his last days he was more calm but always happy as long as he was around his people and friend Tweety.

Driver came into Tyson's life when he was a carefree young man, in an age when friendship is hard to come by. Driver was his wing man through the dating and marriage of his lovely wife, Tracey. The love that was felt in their home warmed the soul, it is no surprise that Driver wanted to protect those that shared their love with him. I’d say he was more than just, man’s best friend.

"Rosie" Romfo

Rosie was the quintessential family dog, who was cherished by those that loved her. She was lovingly referred to as Smiley Rosie. She brought joy to the hearts of the Romfo family, through their dynamic transitional years.  When the children left the nest Rosie stayed behind to brighten the home. 

Her favorite spot was the hot tub cover in the summer, where she enjoyed basking in the warmth. Despite not being a fan of the lake, Rosie found pure delight in cruising the lake on the family boat. When she did happen to get wet at the lake or in the hot tub she would get the zoomies, and rub herself on the carpet, leaving behind precious memories.

In the household, she ruled the roost with her charismatic presence. Rosie left behind a partner in crime, Rory, another beloved dog in the family. When outside she would always take the time to wait for Rory to come back to the house. Rosie's trademark was her infectious smile, a source of happiness for everyone around her. 

Her detective's nose was unparalleled, especially when it came to sniffing out food and treats. Smiley Rosie's memory will forever be engraved in our hearts, a loyal companion who brought laughter and love to the lives she touched.

"Snowflake" Haycraft

Walking into their immaculately decorated home, you can tell the love for Snowflake was profound. There were little steps to help her get onto all the couches and beds. I was told cuddling was a requirement in their household. Snowflake joins her two kitty friends in heaven and is survived by Beverly and her two daughters.

I also have to mention that Snowflake is special to me as well. She was my patient throughout her life during my time at Pinkerton's. She came to me routinely, which is how I know that Beverly cared for her so much, evidenced by how attentive she was to all the physical and behavioral changes that prompted her to come to the clinic. Beverly was also diligent in keeping up with Snowflake's required blood work. I believe that attention to detail was the reason Snowflake lived such a good, long life.

"Althea and Isabelle" Harrison/Erickson

When I imagine their paradise, I think of the place they came from: a beautiful farmstead far from busy roads, where they could explore to their hearts' content. I also picture a big ball pit where there's always a willing arm to play fetch, and from what I could see, that's exactly what they had.

Althea was a wonderful lab who took the title "retriever" seriously. In her last days, moving around became very difficult for her, but her family was there to care for her, love her, and dote on her. They decided to switch the script and became her retrievers of food and water in her comfy little nest made just for her. I was lovingly shown the only three white hairs on her body, to be sure to save.

Isabelle was Althea's "sister" on the farm, and once Althea left, Izzy wasn't far behind. The love these two shared was palpable. If I ever come back as a dog, I hope it is to Althea and Isabelle's paradise.

"Yao" Beach

In the warm embrace of the sun, Yao found his place in the world. A true "Sun Worshiper," he cherished moments basking in its rays, observing the world around him with keen curiosity. His name, Yao, meaning "treasure," was a fitting moniker for this beloved companion who brought so much joy and warmth into the lives of those around him.

Yao had a knack for finding joy in the simple things, whether it was watching fish glide gracefully in an aquarium, playfully reaching into a shrimp tank, or delighting in the flurry of activity around the bird feeders. His zest for life was infectious, and his playful antics brought smiles to all who knew him.

Despite his love for sun-soaked lounging, Yao was also a "Mama's boy" at heart, always by her side and eager for her affection. Yet, he also shared a special bond with his dad, enjoying their manly adventures together. Yao's enthusiasm for life extended to family trips, where he relished in the company of loved ones, always making himself at home and asserting his title as "King of the House."

When Phoebe joined the family, Yao took on the role of a loving big brother, showing her the ropes and teaching her the art of earning treats. His gentle guidance and unwavering love enriched their lives and created lasting memories.

Yao was more than just a pet; he was a cherished member of the family, a sweet baby boy, and the best kitty man. His presence will be deeply missed, but his spirit will live on in the hearts of all who were fortunate enough to know him.

"Lulu" Wittmeyer

I am here to memorialize Lulu, who legend says had a 1000 nicknames. This bulldog's passing left a profound void in the heart of her Bulldog mom, Bri. Bri's love for all things Bulldog was epitomized in her deep affection for Lulu, who was not just a pet but a cherished family member.

Lulu's legacy extends beyond her role as a beloved companion; she was also a mother who nurtured multiple litters of puppies with her carefree attitude and unconditional love. Some of my favorite memories as a veterinarian have been c-sections on Lulu and throwing (gently) puppies to my helpers. Her playful nature and affectionate demeanor endeared her to all who knew her.

One of Lulu's unique features was the small portion of her right eye that was blue, a charming trait that added to her individuality and charm. Her many skin rolls were a testament to the love and care she received, each roll representing a moment of joy and comfort shared with Bri and of course, Travis.

Lulu’s memory will forever be cherished by Bri and Trav and all who knew her. May she rest in peace, knowing she was deeply loved and will always hold a special place in their hearts.

"Mickey" Page

🐾 Today, we celebrate the life and service of Mickey, who was not just a pet but a true hero. His selfless dedication and unwavering loyalty inspired us all. Join us in honoring their memory and the special bond they shared with their owner. 💖🐾

“Mickey served me for 6 years with everything he had.  He was the best service dog, pet and family member.  Mickey had a way of staring into your soul with his big beautiful brown eyes.   He had so many loyal companions, human and k9.  He loved our quarterly flights out of town with mom & dad to appointments.  He would play fetch til your arm fell off.  Every time he would fulfill one of his tasks like bringing medicine or shutting the door, you could tell he was so happy and proud.  He was loved by 3 kids, grandma and mom & dad.  

To let go takes love. I love you,

And I know you love me too

Good Bye, Dear Mickey

You will be missed, but never forgotten.  Thank you for your service."

"Teague" Proper

{Teague, Teaguer, Teaguermeister, Teaga, bubbas, buddy, bubs}

August 27, 2010-March 18, 2024

Where do I even begin….you made our life SOOOOOOOOO much better for 4,889 days! I wish we could have you for an eternity. Thanks for teaching me what unconditional love is.

I went through a rough time in 2009 and everyone told me a dog will make it better. It sure did 100000000%! You helped me through many days of our fertility struggles, good days, bad days, and everything in between.

I remember daddy bringing you to ING to show me on October 29, 2010 in a little brown box. He had just met the Leier’s to pick you up. This is the day my life changed & I became a dog lover forever! Best $75 I could have ever spent!

I told daddy you were supposed to live in the garage…well that didn’t happen. Then it was the basement…well that lasted for about 20 minutes cause you were whining. You became the boss & protector of the house in no time.

• Bubbles were your #1. (He couldn’t get up on his last days on earth but he got the bubbles.)

• Grilling with daddy was your next favorite.

• Hedgehogs were your all time favorite.

• Chewing sticks and digging dirt were a fav!

• Watching all the animals in our yard were a favorite pastime whether it was deer, bunnies, squirrels or foxy.

• Teasing with the tennis ball you loved.

• Being outside suntanning until you got too hot.

• You’ve loved snow since day 1.

• Rides you could do without but always enjoyed it once we got there.

• Ice cream, string cheese, steak, yogurt are at the top of the list.

• You loved the lake & swimming.

• Drinking beer with daddy was the best.

• I never had to look at a clock to know when it was time for walks or meals cause you had an internal one built in.

• Walks each day, no matter the temp, were a must.

• You weren’t really sure about Klete but loved him anyway.

• You loved all company that came over especially gramma & grampa.

• Ice cubes in your water were a must.

• The Furbo camera was your favorite because you knew momma was almost home and a bonus-it threw treats too.

• You had to run and get a toy every time we got home and it was a hedgehog 99.9% of the time.

• You have no idea how much you will be missed. You were the {best} first boy that momma could ever have. Run free of all your pain buddy.
  

Thanks for making me a mom!

See you at the rainbow bridge!"

"Rylee" Steele

In a quiet corner of a cozy home, the pitter-patter of little paws no longer echoes. Rylee, a Yorkshire Terrier with a personality as big as his heart, has crossed the rainbow bridge at the age of 15.

Rylee's journey began with Markie, one of the best veterinary technicians around, who opened her heart and home to this tiny bundle of fur. Through the years, Rylee became more than a pet; he was a beloved family member who witnessed the continually growing love between Markie and Eric. Despite his small stature, Rylee had a larger-than-life presence. He had a penchant for hogging the bed, ensuring that the house ran according to his rules, and showering his family with endless love and affection.

As Rylee's spirit takes flight, he leaves behind a legacy of joy, companionship, and unwavering loyalty. His memory will forever be cherished by Markie, Eric, and all who were lucky enough to know him. Rest in peace, dear Rylee.

"Ally" Wise

When I stepped into the Wise home early on a Friday morning, I saw the scene of the hustle and bustle of life on the air force base with PCS orders. Normal life rarely slows downs for the important moments of a young family in the ‘where did those years go’ phase of life, let alone with orders to move. It was nice to see the Wise family take a pause and consider the important things in this life. I saw the love held in their hearts as they huddled around each other without a thought of the busy days and weeks ahead. They were all there to honor the life of their sweet dog, Ally. 

I got the impression that she was the hub of the family, she was one of the common interests that kept everyone close to the base that is their home. I can imagine Ally supporting the family each individually; through odd airforce hours, middle of the night baby feedings, and the frequent moves required of air force families. As they prepare to leave the area, I know that Ally will be watching from above and continue to keep the family close. Rest in Peace Dear Ally, you will be missed.

"Daisy-Boo Boo" Bremer

Daisy, affectionately referred to as Boo Boo, had the biggest heart. As her heart physically began to fail, emotionally it was as big and healthy as ever. She bounced over to me to say hello, even as I could see her aged body was struggling to contain the puppy spirit she still possessed. 

Boo Boo was a loving companion through cross country moves, the ups and downs of growing a family, air force deployments, and medical procedures. No matter what her family was feeling she was always there with a wagging tail and sweet puppy kisses. Boo Boo was one of those dogs that was a puppy right to the end.  I hope you and Roxy are taking turns pulling each other across the evergreen lawns just past the rainbow bridge.

"Baylee" Riordan

I first met Baylee, while working ER shifts. She was hospitalized with a rather aggressive tumor, but she was a bright spot throughout my busy weekend. Anytime I walked past her kennel she said hello with that fast tail wag of hers and bouncy attitude. I can imagine long work days coming home to her would fill your cup to the brim and then continue to overflow with joy. Even before meeting Stephen, I knew that he loved Baylee more than anything. He was willing to do absolutely EVERYTHING possible to keep her around as long as possible. He was able to get a few more weeks with her and I hope during those weeks, they continued to make memories around the farm barking at the cows to play.

In the words of Sturgill Simpson “Been many good dog was a friend to a man, but {Baylee} was the greatest one. She was the {lab of labs}, the wonder of {waggers}, but most of all she was Stephen’s best friend, and she was gone too soon.”

"Hank" Sharbono

“We got our eye on you Hank!” was an expression wielded as a warning, and used so often it became a term of endearment. Hank exploded into the Sharbono's life as a young dog and it was never the same ever since, but in the best way possible. Hank found a home of free love full of life and adventure with a couple of artists.

I imagine that Hank’s boisterous attitude and need to drink in every possible moment, brought the sunshine to light these artists' lives. His loving, carefree, and oft mischievous attitude helped to teach the Sharbono family to live mindfully in every moment. Yes, that lesson did come with the need to place cameras throughout the house for monitoring Hank; but they wouldn’t have had it any other way. The taller fences, locked garbage, and many cameras are all reminders of the rambunctious loveable beagle. Rest easy Hank, it’s now your turn to keep an eye on us.

"Ellie" Widdel

Oh Ellie, this memorial has been difficult to write because I wanted it to be as perfect as you were. You were everything to everyone your bright life touched. You were a companion and friend to Lee who got to train you according to his wishes. You helped regulate the ever changing and evolving pack of dogs Jessi brought in for work and fun.

You were also one of the first and most stable dogs for the children in the Widdel home. You were the bird dog that even helped me shoot my first pheasant when hunting with friends. Your loss reverberates through the family, friends, pack and acquaintances of the Widdels and to even begin to think about a replacement we would need 10 different dogs to fill your collar.

"Duke" Mabee

It was a quiet, starry night in a small town, not far from the edge of the desert, where the sky seemed to stretch out forever. That’s where Duke found his way into the heart of Amber. Some say he was a wish made on a shooting star, others claim he was the answer to every blown-out birthday candle Amber had wished upon. Truth be told, he was the dream of a young girl, realized just a little later than she expected—but perhaps exactly when she needed him most.

Amber wasn’t a child anymore when Duke came along, no, she was all grown up, with the weight of life on her shoulders and the responsibilities of adulthood pressing down hard. But there was something about Duke that made her remember what it was to be young, to dream, to believe in a little bit of magic. They quickly learned that “happily ever after” wasn’t a simple matter. It came with its fair share of challenges—like Duke’s health, his anxieties, and the kind of hard work that makes you sweat through your shirt before the day’s even half done.

Still, it was no fairy tale. It was better than that. Because, as cliché as it might sound, Amber saved Duke. She rescued him from a life of pain, from an anxious heart that had never known real trust. And in return, well, Duke saved her too.

Amber had always dreamed of having a “heart horse,” the kind you read about in books and hear whispered in barns. But Duke—Duker, as she lovingly called him—was more than just that. He was a builder of confidence, a steadfast friend, a constant source of comfort when the world seemed anything but. When life threw its curveballs, and when people sometimes let her down, Duke was there, steady as the desert heat.

To a budding veterinarian like Amber, Duke’s health and well-being were always front and center in her mind. And maybe that’s why they fit together so well. She cared for him, body and soul, and in turn, he offered her something far more precious—companionship, loyalty, and a quiet, unshakable bond.

The thing is, Amber thought she’d found her dream come true. But what she didn’t realize, not at first, was that Duke had been dreaming of her too. And perhaps that’s the way of things out in the desert, where wishes don’t always come true in the way you expect—but in the way you need most.