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401 South Laurel Avenue Sanford, FL 32771 (407) 302-4497 info@petrescuebyjudy.com

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The Rainbow Bridge


...Grieve not,
nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk of me
as if I were beside you...
I loved you so -
'twas heaven here with you.
                                              -Isla Paschal Richardson
 


Welcome to the Rainbow Bridge, a place to remember our beloved pets.  Each one of our pets leaves that empty spot that fills slowly with memories.   If you would like to post a rememberance, please send your text and/or photo to admin@petrescuebyjudy.com.   To make a donation in your pet's name, please use our paypal account or mail it directly to us at our Sanford address .  And please accept our deepest sympathies.....
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Kai the Best Dog A Family Could Have
Thank you so much for returning my call about our dog Kai. We adopted him 12/2004 when you were set up at Petsmart in Altamonte Springs. He was a surprise for our family, when we adopted him..we were advised that Kai and his brothers and sisters were found in a trash compactor. A couple of his siblings were killed before you rescued them. On August 4, 2009, about 10p..my husband went outside to walk Kai before going to bed for the night, when Kai spotted a cat and ran after it. Shortly after our neighbors knocked on our door to say they witnessed a large truck speeding on the wrong side of the street in our neighborhood. The driver of the truck struck and killed our dog. The driver did not stop, he kept going. The driver will never know the hurt that he has caused to our family. Kai has brought our family 5 years of unbelievable happiness. He was a member of our family, and by far the best dog and friend that any family could have had. Kai was a true blessing to our children, friends and entire family. And we are truly thankful that God has blessed us with five wonderful years with Kai. Our daughters: Sonja age 20 Marissa age 18 Lauren age 9 (featured in the picture be with Kai taken hours before he was killed) Sincerely, Consuela Nelson


Keesh
I lost Keesh tonight. My heart is broken again. She got into a fight with Sophie while I was gone and lost too much blood - they couldn't save her. I know you all cared for her so I wanted to let you know. We all did everything we could to give her the best life possible. RIP my sweet blue eyed girl. Lisa


Kingsley
We said goodbye to Kingsley. We adopted him from Animal Services at 5 months old. He was in a kennel of about 10 rowdy puppies and he was pinned in the corner, overwhelmed by the commotion. It was a hilarious and pitiful sight rolled up into one. We took him out just to give him a break and 15 minutes later we walked away to fill out the adoption paperwork. A few months later, I started volunteering at PRBJ, instead of Animal Services. When we started to foster, Kingsley really flourished. He was the last of our dogs to warm up to the new addition, but he was the one that took it the hardest when they left. When we went to events with our foster, we would bring Kingsley with us. He was a great support system for them out in public. Kingsley would also go to their meets with their new family for that same reason and it would ultimately help him understand where his new buddy was when they didn’t return home with us. He also spent some time with Judy in the front room at the first Sanford shelter. A trainer who I asked to evaluate him thought I was NUTS when I said we had some issues because he THRIVED in that environment. Shortly after we adopted Kings, we found out he survived distemper before we met him. He had some lasting effects of that, some scarring on his belly, mangled adult teeth (our snaggletooth!) from high fever, and neurological issues. He was a fighter from the moment he was born, no doubt. He loved fiercely. He loved his family fiercely. He loved to guard his home, steal paper products and toddler snacks, and his big, orange ball that stopped making noise many years ago. He hated being wet, hot, and separated from his loved ones. He was a challenging boy (neurological issues AND a Catahoula?!) but that big personality, makes him being gone that much more painful. We have a full house with kids and pets, but it feels empty without him. He was larger than life, that’s for sure. Kingsley, you are very much loved and very much missed. There is not a day that will go by where we will not think about you and wish you were here with us.


Kirby the Special Gift
I had to bring Kirby to the vet because there was nothing more I could do to help him. He was diagnosed last August with a cancerous tumor on his pancreas. The doctor didn't think he'd live through the weekend, but I had other plans. I began boiling chicken so he could have chicken, broth and rice each day along with his prescription food. He had the equivalent of chicken soup every day. Special treats, special eating times. All tailored to how his health was. He was stable that way for 10 months. Playful and alert and happy go lucky, he went along each day just as sweetly as the last. My little guy was very special, not to just me, but to everyone who met him. He was tender, sweet, loving... His presence will always be a part of me. He was a great gift. A humble, unknowing teacher. My Kirby. I miss him so much that my chest is tight and it's hard to breathe. My heart is broken. Good night, little man. ~ Catherine Stapleton


Koda
Koda was just a dog. In 2004, I adopted a puppy from “Pet Rescue by Judy” while still in the post-emotional slipstream of a divorce. His litter name was Maine, but it changed to Koda as the only Disney name my youngest daughter and I agreed on. Divorce is a lonely business..... Many times, a hug from that stupid dog was the only emotional support I had. I’d cry; I’d hug him; he’d let me. Sometimes he’d just come over and offer. Stupid dog. A few months later I bought a house at the height of the real estate bubble – a fixer-upper so when real estate values fell I wouldn’t lose money. Koda moved in with me, prices fell more than expected, I fixed up less than hoped, and 13 years later I own a house that has never been without Koda inside. And now he’s gone. Stupid dog. Koda slept in my shower, a double-wide walk-in that must have made him feel protected. It also made his sleeping area easy to clean up, and on those rare occasions when the doors were shut, I felt guilty for locking him out of “his house.” Stupid dog. Koda protected the yard. He’d knew “our cats” and would chase “their cats.” He loved nothing more than breaking up a fight and, like any good protector, he’d lie by the pool when outside with one eye on us and one eye for wandering wildlife. But more than anything, Koda was my dog. He loved my mother, my daughters, my son. But when a gang of us walked into the house, he’d nose past everyone to get to me. Our bond seemed more than affection, and I swear he could read my mind. I gave no indication that it was time for a walk until I was ready to go, for example, because he’d start bouncing off the walls. Without the slightest “we’re going for a walk” gesture from me, he just knew. Did my smell change? Maybe. But his insights sometimes scared me. Stupid dog. Koda often traveled to my home town in Pennsylvania, riding uneasily in the back seat of the car. I spent two months there waiting for my father to die and eventually doing bed care, and Koda was the one “person” I could simply hug to melt some of the stress away. When I spent three months clearing out the family home a few years later – the one I was born in and visited for 60 years – Koda provided support as I waded through my own early years, my family’s early years, and four generations of ancestors whose papers and history ended up in my parent’s attic. How many times did a hug from Koda make me feel better? How many tears soaked into his coat? How many times did he walk over as if he wanted to be petted, when what he really wanted was to touch and be touched knowing we both needed it? Toward the end he started walking funny, his back legs taking an extra second to do what his brain told them to do. Until that moment – until I Googled “average dog age” – I had no idea he was old. His father, a Bernese, lived an average 8-9 years. His mother, a lab, lived an average 11-12 years. Koda was over 13. How did he get old? How and when did that puppy become an old dog? Eventually his walking became painful to watch. Eventually the drugs made him feel better but not get better. Eventually the drugs didn’t help as much. Eventually it was clear he’d never again be the puppy I hugged after some long-forgotten divorce. And one day, yesterday, we made that final trip to the vet and I left a lifeless no-longer-Koda body and walked out. When will I stop expecting him to greet me when I come home? When will I stop making a mental note of his location before turning on the vacuum cleaner? When will I stop glancing to see if his food bowl needs refilled? When will I start shutting the shower doors since Koda will never again sleep inside? Stupid dog. I love him, and the missing-Koda pain feels as if it will never go away. © 2018 SmithTakes.com

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