In memory of Jolly

We are very sad to have to tell you that crotchety yet lovable Jolly passed away last week on November 11. He was almost 13 years old. We adopted him from FBRN in December, 2006. We loved his loose-legged happy trot to the car when going for a ride, and the way he would put his paws on our knees and arch his back for a scratch. He was active and spry until just a couple of months ago, but then went down fast. During the last two weeks, he couldn't walk more than a couple of steps, was almost blind and had completely lost interest in food. His vet very kindly told us that it was better for him to be set free from his body and we tearfully agreed. We'll miss you, Jolly Curmudgeon, and hope to see you again someday at the bridge.

Thank you, FBRN, for all that you do to help dogs like Jolly.

Carla and Michael Fenswick

In memory of Nikki

It was November 2008. I drove to Toronto by myself with my daughters, Craig stayed home and enjoyed quiet and football. I was picking up my Nikki. As soon as she romped out the door, my heart was hers. I did not believe that God gave me the opportunity to love this beautiful animal. We thought she was the cutest thing we ever saw!

We drove home and enjoyed a year of happiness. She was my daughter's dance school mascot and all who met us loved our Nikki. When we didn't have her with us, people would ask about her. She didnt have a mean bone in her body and followed us everywhere. My Nikki and I slept together every nite and enjoyed Saturday mornings loving each other because my husband was at work and the girls busy playing after a long week of school. My Nikki and I, thats how it was.

My girls often joked that I loved Nikki better than them. She was my pride and joy. She loved car rides and going for a walk to see the kids at the bus stop. We will forever miss our Nikki. The pain is so fresh but we have to keep going. Love is always binding and she taught us to keep on loving no matter what. Nikki, you captured the heart of your mom, dad, human sisters and loving canine sister Layla. You were two peas in a pod, my two little old ladies...my babcias, i called the two of you. Layla looks for you in the yard but I see you on the couch still. I will never stop loving you Nikki and vow to make a difference because of YOU...I LOVE YOU AND PLEASE MEET ME UP THERE ONE DAY, I WILL BE LOOKING FOR YOU. Love, your mom Sheri, your daddy Craig, and your sissy's Maris , Kennedy and fur sis Layla

In memory of Batboy

Life had increasingly become a burden for Batboy, between his congestive heart failure, testicular cancer and an ulcerated eye that burst. He spent several last days with his foster mom sitting outside and enjoying the air, then was humanely put to sleep on 9/24/09. Rest easy, Batboy. We all loved your bravery.

In memory of Jager

Jager has crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. After a fabulous day of play and fun, Jagger lay down in his crate and passed away. Please send good thoughts to his foster mom and surrendering family.

In memory of Marshmellow

Marshmellow was one of those dogs that people did not give up on. From his owners repairing his prolapsed rectum when he was two months old, to the vet clinic that took him in when his owners could no longer afford to care for him, and then to FBRN. He came to us at 9 months old and FBRN made sure that Marshmellow was scoped so we could hopefully get the diarrhea and leaking resolved.The biopsy came back that he had severe IBD and a colonic stricture that would require a balloon procedure to stretch the colon walls. During one of these procedures, they discovered a perforation in the colon wall that would require emergency surgery to prevent bacteria from entering the abdominal cavity. The emergency surgery would cost between five to six thousand dollars, an expense that FBRN could not afford. The specialist said that he was not going to give up on Marshmellow and so the hospital graciously donated the surgery to Marshmellow and FBRN.

Back at home, Marshmellow got worse, he was leaking every twenty minutes, it was a struggle to keep him clean with the staples on his belly. Both my husband and I were depressed as so much time was devoted to his care, the continual cleaning he required, and we were watching him get worse. Two weeks after the surgery back at the specialist, he was diagnosed with a peritoneal hernia due to straining. The specialist said he would not recover from the hernia. The specialists at the hospital had tried so hard to help give Marshmellow every opportunity to one day play like a puppy should, and when we had no other options; the Specialist sat on the floor with Marshmellow and me, and she too cried as we had no other choice but to set Marshmellow free.

Marshmellow was born in October of 2008 and we set him free in October 2009.

Michelle Hague
CA Intake Coordinator FBRN

In memory of Enzo

It is with a very heavy heart that I bring this news. About a year and a half ago I was asked to foster a frog named Enzo. He was 2 1/2 yrs old, deaf, had skin allergies, and was diagnosed with Addison's disease. All that being said, he was a wonderful little man who was a virtual truck! He had no idea he was sick and didn't care for anyone to tell him so.

I quickly learned that he had a few quirks. He had an imaginary friend that lived in the corner of his crate. It was the funniest thing to see him go in his crate, and head straight for the back corner and bark and bark. I had to look a few times to see what he was barking about, and when I noticed there was nothing there…all I could do was laugh.

He was adopted in September 2008, and was quickly taken away in October 2008. He was poisoned by mushrooms in the yard that I guess he thought were very tasty. They had no idea what was wrong with him and the vet was not able to save him. To say I was/am in shock is putting it mildly.

Take care of your frog and others. They can slip away from us way too fast. Enzo's foster mama

In memory of Zelda

Zelda came to us from a puppy mill; used for breeding then thrown out when she was 5. She was such a sweet girl. The minute I saw her, my heart went out to her and I wanted to make her better. She could barely hold her head up; so sedated from the seizure medication she was on. We had high hopes that she would begin to be a normal dog but the days turned into weeks, and she wasn't any better. All the vets that saw her suspected she had a tumor/mass in her brain and that's why the medication was making her so sedated. Her seizures started getting worse and we couldn't put her through it any more. She loved to eat, so she was spoiled with a huge Burger King supper of chicken nuggets, fries and a Whopper! My friend who is a vet came to our house, and she went peacefully in my arms. I hope you feel no pain any more, and are running around up there happy and healthy! We love you little Zelda, rest in peace.

In memory of Sweet Bee

This is how I will always remember her face. She always had that little tongue of hers hanging out. It was so cute! Close to the end when she was real sick and I would walk her in her stroller, people would comment on how adorable she was with her little tongue.

The Sweet dear was getting so blind, I had to watch so at night she didn't walk into curbs. In this shot you can almost see her amazing bear claws that she had for feet. I cut and filed her nails regularly, but her quick was so long from years of having overgrown nails that I could only get them so short. Her toes had spread out and widened giving her the bear claw paws I grew to know and love.

Even though they fought, there were times that they got along. Richard had a hard time accepting that he had to share his mom with someone else, and Sweet Bee was a bit of a Grumpy old lady most of the time. But when they just let each other be, things were copacetic.

Sweet Bee had her own playpen that I got from a children's store. It was perfect for giving her her IV fluids. She couldn't go too far and pull out the line. It was great for feeding her because she was a very messy eater. It traveled well and she was so cute in it. It broke the day before she died. She loved to be on the farm. The sheep would come and sniff her and she wouldn't react at all. She certainly let the other dogs know that she was to be allowed to sleep, and that is final!

Sweet Bee was not afraid of anything. Maybe it was because she was part blind, but she would just plod on forward, not even considering the circumstances. These are big horses and she is just a little thing! This was 2 or 3 weeks before she died. In Hospice they say they rally around sometimes just before they go. She seemed so good then. Then all of a sudden in a day or two I knew it was time and she was leaving us. Fly with the angels, Sweet Bee!

In memory of Ralphie

Our beloved Ralphie. You had the biggest heart. I know you loved both of us very much, but your "momma" was your special friend. Whenever I tickled her you would "protect" her by playfully gnawing on my hand. You weren't the oldest of our four, but you certainly acted like a dad. We love you so much that it feels like we lost a child. We may never know why you passed so suddenly, but we do know that you gave us seven years of unconditional love and joy that we will never forget. There is a void in our hearts that can't be replaced, but Tobie, Chewie, and Roxie are here to ease the pain of your loss. This isn't a goodbye, it's a rememberance of the years you gave us the privilege of spending with. We will always love you and will never forget you. You are the "bestest" boy.

In memory of Austin James
unknown - Sept. 12, 2009

Austin was a good chopper, and a good dog. He was one of us. He was a dog who loved the outdoors... and choppin', and as a dog he explored the streets of New Orleans, from Mid-City to the French Quarter and down to the Lower 9th. He died, like so many young dogs of his generation, he died before his time.

Needless to say, we are really torn up about this. Austin was constantly fighting mast cell tumors, but always beating them. We were treating him for the cancer, but unfortunately the treatment left his immune system weak and he succumbed to a bad infection. He hung on long enough so that he didn't die on September 11, knowing the awkwardness it would cause us when we told people "he died on 9-11," and people would somehow think he was in NYC or Washington D.C. that day... he hung on long enough so that he could share a "death date" with Johnny Cash. I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that. It's good knowin' he's out there... Austin James. Takin' 'er easy for all us sinners.

Good night, sweet prince.

In memory of Lola

On July 21st, 2009, we lost our sweet Lola, who was with us for only three short, but wonderful months. Lola, with her doggie smiles and big heart, came to us at a time when we needed her most, after the loss of an infant grandson. She helped the entire family heal with her calm, warm presence, ready to sit quietly next to anyone when they felt sad or lonely for as long as they needed her to. As the weeks went by, she learned to ride with me on my motorcycle and enjoyed the wind in her hair. She became a frequent visitor of the tasting room at the local, dog-friendly Tyranena Brewery in Lake Mills, WI. She loved to listen to the live music there, and visited each table to be petted and fussed over by the patrons. She often went to work with Bruce, who is a ceramics artist, and slept in the sun while he made his pottery. Lola enjoyed everything and everyone she encountered. She worked very hard to breathe and was limited in her activities, but she never let it stop her from trying new things. I was not prepared to love this little frog so much so quickly. When she left us so suddenly, we were devastated. We miss Lola every day and will never forget our Princess. Her ashes are still with us in a beautiful clay urn, made just for her by Bruce.

In memory of Adam, 1996 - August 20, 2009

Adam was a special boy who brought much happiness to all he met. He was FBRN's first rescue in California. He was the most human of any dog I knew. Adam definitely had his own mind. He knew where he wanted to walk (he sometimes became "cement boy" if he did not want to go somewhere), where he wanted to sleep (on my bed with me), and was particular about which dogs and people he loved. If you had to leave him to do something like oh, say - go to work, he would give you the stink eye. However, he always was a good boy and would listen to his Mom. He was my shadow - he followed me everywhere. Everyone in the neighborhood knew Adam. People would stop their cars and come over to see him. On more than one occasion, he had lines of people waiting to pet him. He loved being petted (on the chest was best) but when it was resting time he wanted his end of the couch. Adam loved to go on his walks and he especially loved going into other people's houses. I called him my frustrated real estate agent. He loved sniffing every leaf or blade of grass. He definitely smelled the flowers. He loved sleeping on the couch, bed or his favorite red overstuffed chair, seeing his Dalmatian mix girlfriend during the day and most of all being with his Mom. He was also a great stuffed animal de-stuffer in his younger years. He was so special and much loved.
I miss you my precious boy. There will never be another like you. You brought great joy. I love you. Mama

In Memory of Loo Loo

LooLoo was surrendered to FBRN because her previous owner could not effectively deal with her skin issues. We knew she wasn't well, but we were shocked by just how sick she was. Her skin was severely infected and she was just skin and bones, clearly very ill. She was just a shell of a dog emotionally as well, very un-Frenchie like. I can't imagine how awful she must have felt. I took her immediately to the vet, who was as worried about her as we were. But LooLoo was resilient. With strong antibiotics, good food and supplements, she started to feel and look much better within a couple of weeks. She virtually came alive right before our eyes. It was lovely to see her get a spark in her eyes and take pleasure in her surroundings. She couldn't get around well herself, due to tendon damage in her front legs, but she enjoyed watching our dogs play--she would bark and bounce up and down excitedly. She also started to play with some toys herself. She wiggled an enthusiastic greeting when we came home. We were all thrilled with her progress.

Unfortunately it turned out LooLoo was battling more problems than her compromised body could effectively fight. Her breathing, which had always been loud, took a sudden turn for the worse late one Friday night, and she spent a difficult weekend at the emergency vet. She was dependent on oxygen, and numerous x-rays showed she likely had pneumonia as well as significant lung and upper airway disease that she had been suffering from for years. The consensus was that even with aggressive treatment her quality of life would not improve. We decided to spare her any further suffering, and she was gently put to sleep with my husband and me there to let her know how loved she was. She even got to eat some chocolate in her last moments, which made her very happy.

We are very sad, and stunned by her rapid decline, but grateful that we got to have several weeks with her. Despite her medical needs she was an easy foster, so appreciative of company. She was content to sit outside with us, or hang out in the family room with everyone. I miss her a lot in the mornings. I would get up a half hour early and take her outside as the sun was rising, before anyone else in the house was up. We would sit companionably out in the backyard before we went in for her to have breakfast. My husband's time with her was in the evenings. If I couldn't find him in the house, he was usually out in the backyard with her. She had such a gentle presence and it was a pleasure to be around her.

When she felt frisky, she liked to roll around, scratching her back on a towel or blanket. If my son saw her do that it made him laugh. "She's doing ballet!" he'd say. He thought it looked like she was dancing. I know wherever she is now she is dancing with a strong and whole body, and will never suffer again.

Godspeed, little LooLoo. You were a good girl.

In Memory of Skeeter

We called him Skeety Petey, as he was a kind and gentle boy 99% of the time.

Never had we seen a dog come in as troubled as our Skeety. We worked for 8 solid months on building his self esteem, establishing trust and boundaries. I can still remember that first night, after showing some food aggression, how I hand fed Skeety and he took each piece gently out of my hand.

He was a dog that loved to be the center of attention and whenever he was not, he would kindly remind me by slamming his goblin toy into my back or tackling us and then covering our faces with his kisses. We miss his kisses and his snuggles; the bond that we established would never be broken. We love you Skeety Petey!
Love,
Foster mom and Foster Dad

In Memory of Gizmo

In memory of our Frenchie girl, Gizmo, July 16, 2004 to August 10, 2009. She was not a FBRN dog, but she was still one of the greats.
And in celebration of the one year anniversary of our adoption of Stewie from FBRN on August 16, 2008.

Denise Bartholomew and Ellis Madsen

In Memory of Betty

We got Betty in 2008, she came into FBRN because her owner was having to move out of her daughter's house...or some other equally strange excuse, i don't really remember.

She was blind and deaf, and 13 years old. It was hard for me, because with us, having a dog means living their whole life with them together, even into their golden years. I felt sad for her, such a big life change for an older lady.

At first she was nervous, and I was nervous too. I was having a hard time trying to console her because she was blind and deaf. I never had a dog with a handicap before, let alone two. I remember when I had to wash the blanket she came with the first time, I felt terrible. It was only her second day with us and I thought this was the only familiar thing she had from her life before. But she seemed unfazed, and showed less and less signs of confusion in the coming days. One of the first things we learned about Betty (there are quite a few) was she loved to eat! Our dog (Michi) gives us a run for our money when it comes to food, but not Betty! Hallelujah! Betty had a tenacity that I could not have ever imagined. At first I would carry her to the back yard and put her down and she would just stand there, taking very few steps. A few weeks later she got dubbed "white lightning" because the girl could move! We had to build the "Betty Barricade", it was a low fence across our entire back yard.

A few days after that went in, I turned around and there she was standing in the patio. I called Adam and told him Betty got over the barricade, he said "No way!" So I carried her back to the yard and watched. She would walk to the barricade, feel her way down it, pick a spot, then put one leg over, look left then right, then swing the next leg over, stand for another minute, and do a bunny hop over with both back legs. I always thought that was amazing, she had no idea what was on the other side, it could have been a sheer drop. So that is what most amazed me about her, her will to do what she wanted, and go where she wasn't meant to! The other, was her ability to have her life turned upside down, and still find it inside herself to trust a different situation, different people, just a whole new life. She loved her peanut butter Kong, it was her right before you go to bed treat. She would wield it around, then lay down and lick it for a long time.

As the weeks turned to months, there were good days and bad days. The times when she was content to walk slowly through the yard, and the times when she was seemingly frantic, going in circles. We would do our very best to include her in our family, and she seemed to enjoy when the other dogs would nap near or on her. It was hard to tell what she felt, and we had to tell ourselves she was doing ok until she was showing some true signs of her failing body.

We couldn't pretend she was ok any longer, and in June'09 we had to help her on to the other side.
We are sad without her. Her snoring (you could hear it from the other side of the house) is gone, and our kitchen doesn't have the familiar "bonk" of cupboard doors as she milled about in the wee hours.
We miss you Betty, and we hope you are looking down and seeing the people (and Frenchies) who loved you in the end.
-Her forever foster mama, Heather

In Memory of Becky

FBRN got a call from the Bisbee, AZ Animal Shelter which is in a small mining town in Southern AZ. Becky had been dumped in a motel parking lot. The shelter in Bisbee was so tiny that it looked like an enlarged outhouse, and there was no heating/cooling! It was December, and it was cold - even for Arizona. I got the call that no one was available but myself, and made plans to drive to Bisbee the next day. I was amazed when I first saw this little girl - tiny head, tiny little legs, but a normal sized body. I was concerned because she had a large tumor in her rear. She was following the gal at the kennel, afraid to be without her. I picked her up, put her in a crate, and started the long trek home to Glendale AZ.

I was very fearful that Becky was pregnant since she had such an odd body style. She fit right in with my crew - even stood up for herself with my Ellie May. Becky was obviously a breeder girl, and had not had much attention. Her favorite thing to do was to go behind our breakfast nook and rest. We even shoved a doggy bed back there for her. My favorite thing to do with her was to grab her from behind the nook and sit on the couch with her, her back to my chest and rub her little belly and chest. She loved that. Wish I could have done it a thousand more times before we lost her.

We took her to the vet and had to wait several long months before removing the tumor, as the vet was fearful she might be pregnant, and then after we were sure that she was not, she tested positive for tick fever and had to go through antibiotics for that before surgery. We got that ugly tumor off but by that time it had spread inside and immediately produced outside small tumors. The tumor was already the size of a small child's fist when we got her so we didn't have much of a chance to stop it. My vet knew that she didn't have much time left. I, who I describe as stupidly optimistic, kept hoping for the best. I wanted to have her forever, to make up to her for her breeder life, her lack of attention and love, etc. FBRN was so good about letting me adopt her and I will forever appreciate that decision.

We got to have our Itty Bitty for just about six months. She suddenly got to where she could not breathe, as the cancer had spread, pressuring her lungs. We weren't going to let her suffocate, so we took her to our vet and had her put to sleep. My hubby had to do it - I could not. I adored this little odd Frenchie girl. I wanted to have her forever. You would have to have seen her and been around her to see how special she was, and how very unique my little baby was. It is mean to say, but I hate whoever owned her before - if they had taken her to a vet and had the mast cell tumor removed at a small size, she would be fine today.

I miss this little sweetheart. She will be forever remembered and forever my itty bitty little baby girl. She deserved so much better in her life. I know she was happy for her last six months, but I still can't bear that we lost her so soon.

Lynne, AZ volunteer

In Memory of Hope

Hope is with Beau and Sonny now, in a beautiful meadow where they can all run and play and be happy and feel wonderful. For those of you who did not know Hope or don’t know much about me, I’ll give you the condensed version.

Hope is the 3rd Frenchie I’ve lost in 2 ½ years. The other 2 were my FBRN Frenchie boys in November of 2006. I lost my boys within 5 days of each other that November. By December, we adopted Hope and Faith, also from FBRN. At the time, I was devastated over losing my boys, just completely heartbroken, but still ready and willing to open my heart and home to another little broken soul (or souls as it turned out) that needed us. Enter Hope and Faith. Little did I know how much I needed them. They helped me heal from the loss of my boys more than they’ll ever know.

You could never get mad at Hope, no matter what she did. Well, I couldn’t anyway. She would grab the end of the toilet paper and run away with it in her mouth, leaving a trail behind her. She would eat the leaves off my plants (all non-poisonous!) leaving little bits of green on the floor as evidence. She would gnaw on the edge of the bottom step leaving pieces of wood on the floor that we would find when we walked up the stairs. And even if she got caught red-pawed she would go into what we called her hula dance with a huge grin on her face as if to say, you caught me! Now what are you gonna do, huh?! And she would wag her whole bottom almost in a circle just like a hula girl. It was the most charming and funniest thing to see! You couldn’t help just laughing along with her.

She made me laugh so much and so often and little by little my heart began to heal. Because little by little she (and Faith of course) was working her way into it more and more. A wise woman told me way back when I lost my boys and had just adopted the girls that I would look at them one day and tell them “I love you, I really, really love you”. Well, that day definitely came, long before yesterday and I never thought I would be able to love that deeply again, but I did, I do.

Oh my sweet Hope, how I will miss you! I will always love you, always and forever. And don’t worry, I will take really good care of the other half of your heart, Faith. Give my boys a big kiss and I can’t wait for the day when we are all together again. Goodbye, my sweet love, goodbye.

Jeanne

In Memory of Black Magic

Black Magic was very dear to her foster family, and her death following a brief illness hit them very hard. Though she hadn't been in FBRN's care long, we learned that she was a happy soul and a wonderful companion. Godspeed, Black Magic. We were in your spell while you were here.

In Memory of Patty

Patti 1996-2009 When she came to us she was 10 months old, my husband’s mid-life-crisis gift to himself for his 40th birthday. “A petite blonde” he said.

“I want you to be prepared” the breeder told us, “for just how small this dog is”. She was tiny – about the size of a loaf of banana bread and she never grew much larger, topping out at 13 pounds. She had a luxurious coat – someone said she looked as if she had been upholstered in yellow lab. Patti’s eyes were shiny black diamonds like a clown (a clown who meant business, that is) and she was all muscle, her hind legs pork chops with pistons inside. She goose stepped with straight front legs as though she had no joints in her pegs or perhaps determined that she need never bow or bend. She teed up with our pit bull Jane, who rolled her eyes and walked away, unwilling to so much as glare at this guttersnipe, this folly, this….dog?

Patti happily blustered her way though life, dashing around fields herding barn cats and kid goats; for until she turned nine and we moved back west Patti never walked on a lead. The unlikeliest farm dog there ever was, Patti outlived Jane and Walter the pitbulls and Vincent the frenchie, the only dog with whom she ever shared a bed. She put the fear of God into the Johnny-Come Latelys, Joey One Eye and Loolie, both FBRN grads, and Tommy Boy the gentle foster dog. Patti took no crap. She was so formidable in fact, that hers was the face chosen to represent the Frog Princess on the pages of FBRN’s blog.

In the end, it wasn’t Patti who gave up. Wracked with chronic pain and paralysis from a deteriorating spine, a sudden and gigantic mass on her jaw and constant UTIs, Patti could no longer see, hear, or walk worth a damn. Yet she soldiered on, willing to eat, sometimes playing, and always calling the shots. Mostly she slept. We knew she suffered and that her time was at hand but told our vet “she just isn’t ready to let go!” “Patti is one of those dogs”, she gently reminded us, “who may never let go.”

So this evening, after a cheeseburger and some sedatives she drifted off to dreamland in the dappled sun on the front porch; and even though it was our vet’s day off she came back to the house and released the tiny tyrant to her dreams and ours, charging toward her beloved ocean, wind at her back, and with a spirit that wouldn’t, that couldn’t! call it a day.

Give our love to the gang, Patti.

We love you forever,

Charlotte Cooney and Kevin Guinn

In Memory of Gidget

Gidget was a beautiful brindle girl full of energy and sweet kisses. At first, no one would have suspected that she was so ill. Gidget had Megaesophagus and had a hard time holding down food and water, plus she had a condition called Myesthenia Gravis, an autoimmune disease which affects the brain and nervous system and causes muscles to weaken. Gidget (who was called Arabella by her foster Mom) was a much-loved Frenchie and all means to help her were explored, but unfortunately, she continued to weaken. When she could no longer hold down any food or water and began to lose weight rapidly, she was allowed to cross the Rainbow Bridge, where she would be able to run and play to her heart's content. Godspeed, sweet Gidge. It was a joy having you with us, if only for a little while.

In Memory of Bogee

I have never had such hope to fix a dog as I had for Bogee. When I got him, he was skin and bones and had rocket diarrhea. After specialist and vet visits, he was diagnosed with IBD, complicated by Lymphangiectasia. Medicine after medicine, he never got much relief. But no matter what treatments he went through, he was the sweetest and most loveable dog I have ever met. No matter if he had to wear a diaper, or sleep on a puppy pad, never once did he complain. He was such a gentlemanly soul. After seeing his appetite decrease to almost non-existent, he was lucky enough to make his way into another foster home, close to a university vet school. Bogee lived his last days in handmade sweaters created by his foster mom, and eating five times daily home-cooked meals, hand fed by his foster mom. What more could a frog ask for? No matter how hard either of us tried, we could not fix his little tired, broken body. He was continuing to rapidly lose weight, and he had no strength anymore to even continue. He also was riddled with infection. I prayed so hard that we would not lose him. It came down to us having to help Bogee cross the rainbow bridge. He spent his last breath with his foster mom. He did not go alone, and he is now playing at the bridge with all of those frogs we have loved so much. Rest in peace, sweet Bogee, we love you.

In Memory of Rajah Tajah
Born 8-19-93 Went to Rainbow Bridge 4-23-09

It has taken me a few days to write this, & it is with great sadness that I share the news that our Rajah Tajah has passed away. After months of fighting pancreatitis & possibly cancer, it became too much for Rajah. Recently, Rajah completely stopped eating after a few days of vomiting, this was the worst episode for her up to this point & she had lost even more weight, which made her incredibly feeble making her not able to keep her balance. Rajah had many episodes like this in the past 4 months but she rebounded after a day or two... this past time marked the turning point for Rajah & we knew in our hearts that this was the end of her journey & we wanted to give her dignity & release her from the pain of starving to death.

Rajah died in my arms on April 23, 2009 when Dr. Westerfield helped her cross over. Rajah's death was too quick for my liking because I didn't finish telling her all the things that I wanted to... but I think as she drifted towards the light she could still hear my voice echoing with love for her.

Before Rajah left this world, I let each of her fur siblings kiss her goodbye. Our Rudi, gave her the typical sniff & gave her a gingerly tiny little kiss on her nose. Our Rori, resident hellion puppy, sniffed her & ran off in puppy indifference... that's the 3rd k-9 child fer ya. Our sweet, soulfull Remi sniffed Rajah, put both paws on each side of Rajah's head & kissed her nose & then proceeded to clean Rajah's ears & face... something she never had done to any of her fur siblings before. I will never until the day I die forget how sweet Remi said goodbye to her sister Rajah.

I had long hoped that this would not be the end for our Rajah Tajah. We left no stone unturned & searched for any & all answers to treat Rajah. We wanted her to stay & we had fought for her & had done all the things we could think of medically, financially, emotionally... but sometimes God has other plans, no matter how much you may disagree with Him.

We want to thank all our family & friends who have supported us throughout this final journey with Miss Rajah Tajah... especially all our FBRN friends who have pointed us in the right direction when we were looking for answers that were hard to find. Until we meet again, rest in peace our stoicly sweet Rajah Tajah, princess baby girl.
Mommy, Daddy, your brothers Rudi & Rori & little sister, Remi all love you so very much.

In Memory of Olivia

Olivia came into my life in March, 1998. She was my first Frenchie. Before her, my dogs had always been large breeds, Bullmastiffs, German Shepherds, etc. Pretty serious dogs. Olivia was the first dog that I had ever laughed at on a regular basis. She was always doing something that would put a smile on my face and a laugh in my day. In the morning when I was getting ready for work we would play on the floor together and laugh. Puddin, my Bullmastiff, and Olivia were constant companions. Nine years ago, Olivia had her first litter. At the same time, Puddin was struck with a an illness that left her unable to walk. Puddin had been sent home from the vet with little hope of recovery. Olivia would go between her brand new babies and sitting with Puddin as she lay on our living room floor. Olivia was an excellent mom and dedicated friend. In her final days, Olivia still lived her life like she always had. Even though she was very weak, she would pick up a bone and chew on it. In her final hours she sat next to Puddin, as she had done all her life, and rested. On our way to the vet, she layed next to me sleeping. As we waited in our vehicle for everything to be prepared, she climbed up onto my leg one last time, looked out the window, then layed down in her spot on the seat. She was a dedicated mom, faithful friend and will undeniably be missed until we meet again.

Thank you Olivia for being a part of my life and teaching me so many valuable lessons. There will never be another like you.

Stephani & Dave Luedde

In Memory of Jou-Jou

Sadly, sweet Beulah, adopted 2/2/07, renamed Jou-Jou passed away February 2009. Jou-Jou, you sweet little girl. You taught me so many things, things like “It’s impossible to ever misplace a French Bulldog.” Oh, yes, it’s true. A French Bulldog can never get lost because wherever you are, they are. I’m going to be checking behind me when I’m at the sink doing dishes for a long time. That was a reflex I developed when you were with us. Always check before stepping backward, lest you trip over the Frenchie.

I just don’t know what am I going to do with my extra Cheez-its at lunch time now. The one and only trick you learned was to sit for a treat or rather, squat down until you hear, “OK, close enough.” Well, you also learned, “Come here and eat this piece of cheese,” but I suppose that doesn’t really count. Training is overrated anyway. Hey, any dog can learn to go to the door and bark to be let out, but what dog could remain so close to the sliding glass door and still perform her duties? I think there were times when you actually believed you were still inside when you did your business. And as for walking? Feh! That’s for dogs who haven’t figured out how to roll with style. As I told so many who asked, “No, I didn’t train her to ride in the stroller. She’s just lazy.” As a good bulldog should be.

And, by gosh, you tell that cat: no one on the sofa except you! You got that, my feline brother?

All I can say is that you were perfect in all the ways that really mattered. No dog ever appreciated a good wrinkle-rubbing like you did. I cleaned the last of your “snuffle juice” off the storm door this morning. The sun beam in the front hall is so empty without you.

Your Mom, Dad, and Two-legged Sisters

In Memory of Gussy

FBRN Grad Gus crossed the bridge February '09. It's still so hard. We miss him so much. Life is so quiet without him. Gus came into our life when he needed us most. We fostered Gussy for a year before adopting him in March of 2007. He was a lot of hard work, but when he figured out he was safe with us he became a sweet boy. There will never be another like him. His joy at seeing us if we were gone for the day. His bouncy step, the smacking noise he would make when he wanted loving. He would growl at dad, he thought that was what he was supposed to do to show love for him. There is no one to keep the other furries in line, they can go in and out of the doggy door at will.

Rest in peace sweet boy, we'll see you again someday. All our love, Mom Eilene and Dad Al Cervanyk

Dante was a sweet boy who was with us for far too short a time. His journey with FBRN started when I picked him up at the shelter the day after New Year’s Day. From the start he was a friendly little guy. He had somewhat of a hook tail, and I don’t think that he stopped wagging it from the time we picked him up until I told him goodbye the morning he passed away.

Dante loved life, or at least was starting to. He wanted to be friends with all of the other dogs in the house, and even tried to lick the resident old lady cat in the face. He would have made an excellent buddy for anyone that would have been lucky enough to have adopted him. He loved water, going so far as to stand at the end of the porch when it rained to catch raindrops on his tongue. He would trot around the house in his 'manties', to avoid any unnecessary accidents, and when he got to lay in the bed he would try to wriggle out of them. We would laugh at him, and act like we were completely unaware of his attempts to be free from the manties. It was hard to get mad at him. He would just lay on his back and smile at you, as if to signal that he was finally getting to be the happy dog he was always supposed to be.

Our only hope now for Dante is that he is finally free from any pain, emotional or physical, that he suffered while on earth. We hope he knows that, for at least his last month, he was loved and that he was a good boy.

Goodbye our sweet foster boy, we’ll miss you.

Your Foster Mom and Dad and your foster siblings