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IN MEMORY
Zorro
January 29, 1996 to June 25, 2007
Loved by Sarah Richardson and her family
Zorro left us suddenly, without any warning, without any symptoms he was ill. He died of hemangiosarcoma, also known as the sudden killer because the first signs it is present are often the last moments of life.
What helped us through the grief was an uncanny and ultimate moment of joy for Zorro in his final days of life. It occurred during an evening walk. Zorro’s walks were always an adventure since one of his favorite activities was investigating storm drains along the sides of roads. At every storm drain grate he would plant his lanky greyhound legs around it and peer down like an awkward giraffe. After a few moments he would look up as if to say “Nope, not here today.” and move on, ever hopeful that the next storm drain would reveal the holy grail of adventures – raccoons! Why the obsession? On the first walk I took with Zorro, on the first day I lived in Chico, as we passed our first storm drain, a roar erupted from its murky depths so ferociously it made us jump in shock and almost run for home. Later, I returned, flashlight in hand, to find out what kind of monster lived in Chico’s underground; I laughed when I discovered it was a family of masked bandits. For the next six years, Zorro never passed another storm drain without looking for the next raccoon. Every walk. Every storm drain. His vigilance never ceased.
Two days before Zorro died, we took an evening walk. As we approached the original storm drain we laughed about Zorro’s persistence and optimism. Six years and not a single new raccoon, but how he loved the search! And then, that night, from that same storm drain where it all began, a raccoon peered up and roared. Zorro was filled with pure and total glee. He barked and barked as if he’d died and gone to heaven. Two days later, he did. Rest easy, Zorro. You found your raccoon. Be free.
Zorro's pedigree

Callie
February 14, 1994 – December 27, 2006
Loved by Sarah Richardson and her family
These photos were taken of Callie in December 2006, ten days before she died of mast cell cancer. She was beginning to fail and, as a final fling, we scheduled a trip to Mendocino. We weren’t sure she would make it to this weekend, and as soon as we arrived her puppy spirit soared. She loved water and ran on the beach as if her body was free of the disease that was consuming it. On the way home we stopped at Clear Lake and she raced into its waters despite the chilly temperature. We had to coax her to leave. Perhaps she knew, as we did, that this would be the last time she would feel rocky sand beneath her paws, cool water on her glossy fur, and soggy tennis balls in her mouth.
I miss you, Callie. Thank you for being my teacher. Thank you for being my dog. Thank you for being my friend.

Brandy
1997 to July 25, 2008
Loved by Sarah Richardson and her family
Sometimes, a dog comes into your life that just steals your heart, even if she's with you for just a short time. Such was the case with Brandy. The request for us to take in Brandy came immediately following the death of my very beloved dog, Zorro, and I was still reeling from losing him. There was no replacing Zorro. I was not ready for another old dog whom I would surely lose too soon. So, at first I resisted. But Brandy needed a home. And I have a huge soft spot for senior dogs that need a comfortable place to live out their final days. "OK", I said, "Brandy can come live with us."
She came to us without toys (we were told she never liked them, or dog food for that matter) and when she arrived in our home she became a toy fiend and food fanatic. Every chance she had she would ask for a game of tug, or a squeaky toy, or would push to the front of the line for a yummy treat. And, she discovered her bark. Though she had never barked before, Brandy learned to bark, and bark, and bark. It was as if she was shouting out her exuberance: "I'm SO EXCITED to be having so much fun!"
On July 25, 2008, our house became deafeningly quiet. Brandy left us. As with Zorro, the dog whose place on the couch she assumed, Brandy succumbed to hemangiosarcoma. I hate this disease. With Brandy, we had some warning. And that meant that we had a final day and night with the dog we loved, enjoying the things she loved. Bark on, Brandy. Wherever you may be now, bark on!

Clyde
July 6, 2005 to July 20, 2006
Loved by Lynn Lem and her family
Oh, Clyde. He was so full of life and personality from the day we brought him home. His legs were so wobbly that he could find no traction on our hardwood floor so when he went running his legs would splay out and he'd slide around looking like a frog on his belly. But he was determined to get up and go running again. His whole life was like that...full of determination.
At 3 months old, his eye ruptured and we had to rush him to Sacramento for emergency surgery by an ophthalmologic specialist. He was able to save Clyde’s eye but for over a month he had to wear that big cone on his head. Did that seem to get in his way of fun? NO WAY! Clyde played games with his toys, trying to force them inside the cone.
For the next 9 months, his eye pressure got worse but he still had a zest for life and gave us so many funny memories. A few months after Clyde’s first birthday, I took him to the vet because it seemed as if his other eye was bothering him. It was then we found out that the first eye that ruptured was doing very poorly and would have to be taken out. Unfortunately, the other eye was now infected and would need to be removed too. The doctor told us Clyde had been in quite a bit of pain most of his life. He was born with a defect where his eyes never produced tears so if they got scratched, they couldn't heal properly.
Clyde, it makes me so sad to think you had to live like that your entire life. I know you have found happiness and peace where you are now. I just wanted to let you know that I think about you every day and I miss you so very much. I will never forget you. I love you, my little Wydsy Wydsy.

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