homecontact
ABOUT LBMAAAF
Download Our Brochure
Statistics & Studies  
Respect & Responsibility  
Convicted NJ Abusers  
Euthanasia  
Breed Adoption contacts  
  NJ Rescue Groups  
happy endings  
Spay & Neuter  
Events  
Who has benefited  
Sponsors  
Memorials  
You can help  
Donate  
You and Your Pets  
Contact  
Gallery  
Links  
Just for fun  
Inspiration  

In Loving Memory of our Very Best Friends

This area of LBMAAAF is a place to memorialize the special animals in our lives that have passed on. They are here with us for but a short time, and their passings leave a great hole in our heart. If you would like to remember a furry friend through a "Living Memorial" email pictures and a short bio to lbmaaaf@comcast.net


Pet Bereavement Resources

The nation's first pet loss support hot line is the University of California-Davis Veterinarian Medical Teaching Hospital, 916-752-4200St. Hubert's Animal Welfare Center in Madison NJ has weekly support groups. 201-377-2295

University of Florida College of Veterinary Medicine returns calls free of charge. 352-392-4700 ext. 4080

University of Pennsylvania School of Veterinary Medicine Small Animal Hospital provides free bi-weekly support group sessions.  Located at 3850 Spruce Street in Philadelphia. 215-898-4529

Burlington County Contact Crisis Line for pet loss: 856-234-8888 or 856-234-5484

The Delta Society offers regional listings of programs and therapists: 206-226-7357 or go to http://www.deltasociety.org

Samaritan Hospice in Marlton offers a 3 week support group, 1-800-229-8183

Pet Loss Grief Support Website provides personal support, thoughtful advice much more for those who have lost such a friend.

PetFriends runs a toll-free pet-grief hotline.  Their number is 1-800-404-PETS. They are a nonprofit, all volunteer organization that's been in existence since November 1995. Since that time they've provided free support, information and referrals to more than 800 callers from all over the country. Their volunteers are animal lovers, of course, but they've also been specially trained by a licensed clinical social worker and a veterinarian to help people who are mourning the loss--or anticipating the loss--of a pet through death or any other separation.

Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and
sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.


All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body begins to quiver. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.


You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.


Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

A Dog's Tribute 
\By Brian McGrory;  Boston Globe Columnist  |  August 31, 2004

They should come with a warning label, these creatures. They should come with a label that says you're going to fall hopelessly in love, only to have your heart shattered before you could ever possibly prepare. And then you face one of life's truly wrenching decisions.Which is where I am now. Specifically, as I type these words I am on the back deck of a rented house in Maine surrounded by fields and forest, watching a sleeping golden retriever named Harry drift another day closer to death.He is gorgeous, this dog, with a gray face that shows the wisdom gained from his 10 years on Earth and brown eyes that are the most thoughtful I've ever seen. He is sprawled out on the wood, his blond fur damp from his morning swim and his breathing labored from his disease.And I ponder the question that has dominated my thoughts for weeks: How will I know when the time is right?He arrived in my life nearly a decade ago on one of those storybook Christmas season nights that is too good to ever forget. He was a gift to my wife, and when she opened the box the tears that spilled down her face were those of joy.Women, of course, come and go, but dogs are forever, so when the marriage ended, Harry stayed with me.Since then, we've moved from Boston to Washington, D.C., and back again, fetched maybe a quarter of a million throws, walked, I would wager, over 10,000 miles together. He carried a tennis ball in his mouth for most of them, convinced that anyone who saw him would be duly impressed.And, judging by their reactions, he's right.Throughout, he has shown me sunrises and sunsets that I wouldn't otherwise have seen. He has taught me that snow is a gift, that the ocean is there for swimming, that the coldest winter mornings and the hottest summer days are never as bad as people say.He has introduced me to people, kind people, whom I otherwise wouldn't have met. He has forced me to take time every morning to contemplate the day ahead. With his tail-swishing swagger, he has taught me to slow down, to pause in an Esplanade field or on a Public Garden bench, the journey being as good as the destination.The big ruse, which I think he figured out years ago, was that all these walks were meant for him.He has been an anchor in bad times, a ballast amid occasional uncertainty, a dose of humility when things might be going a little too well. He has been a sanctuary, a confidant, and an occasional excuse. He regards it as his personal mission to make me laugh, whether by a ritualistic dance over a pig's ear or a gushing lick to my face. He's never once said the wrong thing, and it's impossible to be in a bad mood around him.All along, he lives by one simple mantra: Count me in.Anything I'm doing, he wants to do as well, no leash or nagging required. At home, he prefers to lie on the stoop of our condominium building, presiding over the world around him.His time, though, is fleeting, a fact that he's starting to understand.In April, his lifelong veterinarian, Pam Bendock, blinked back tears as she informed me that his stomach pains were caused by lymphoma. Several rounds of chemotherapy failed to do what was hoped.Two weeks ago, I stopped his treatments. These days, he has lost 10 pounds or more and can't keep food inside. He often wakes in the dark before dawn moaning softly in pain. But by daybreak, he is urging me toward the beach or guiding me on another walk, ball in mouth, ready to fetch, albeit slowly.Maybe I should be embarrassed to admit that a dog can change a man, but I'm not.So as the clock winds out on a life well lived, I look back at the lessons learned from this calm and dignified creature, lessons of temperance, patience, and compassion that will guide us to the end.And I look into those handsome brown eyes for the sign that the time has come.He'll give it to me, when he's ready. And hard as it will be, we'll both know the journey was better than we could have ever possibly hoped.Brian McGrory is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at   mcgrory@globe.com


Memorial Tributes

Snowball was a sweet Blue-Point Himalayan kitty.  She was born on October 15, 1989.  She lived to be 16 years and 7 months before losing a short battle with Renal failure.  She died on May 17, 2006.

 I wrote this poem after she died to honor her memory:

 CONSTANT  COMPANION

When you first came into my life,

I wasn’t expecting you at all,

It was Christmas morning,

You were the only thing I saw.

A tiny bundle of white fuzz,

With curious, bright blue eyes,

Little grey feet and ears,

What a nice surprise.

Always very cautious,

A step or two behind,

I longed to hold you tight,

But you wouldn’t be confined.

You liked things a certain way,

I respected all your rules,

You trusted only me,

Looked at others like they were fools.

To me, alone, you opened up,

So sensitive was your heart,

You showed the world a different face,

You always stayed on guard.

Skittish and nervous all the time,

It didn’t matter to me,

You understood how people felt,

You loved so tenderly.

Hollering would not be tolerated,

Or anything too loud,

You liked things calm and peaceful,

Like floating on a cloud.

Not wanting anyone upset,

You always showed you care,

No yelling,

Soft spoken words were all you could bear.

Prissy, full of dignity,

Everyone else misunderstood,

They thought you were aloof,

I always saw the good.

You felt safe with me,

My gentle little kitten,

From the time I first held you,

I was completely smitten!

There was a lot that you kept private,

Like how you loved to play,

Jump through the air, roll on your back,

Any time of day.

A lover, not a hater,

You were sensitive and tender,

When it came to compassion,

You were a giver, not a lender.

Always my sweet baby girl,

No matter how old you got,

You were always there for me,

Even when others were not.

You jumped to my defense,

Whenever you perceived attack,

Although afraid of your own shadow,

You always had my back.

I watched as you matured,

We moved around a lot,

You saw me through my highs and lows,

Judgmental you were not.

You finally saw me settled and happy,

With a man who loved us both,

A loving home that’s permanent,

To you I made this oath.

You were getting older,

Your age began to show,

I tried to keep you comfortable,

Your health was getting low.

When you finally faltered,

I was right there by your side,

Taking care of your every need,

Together, we really tried.

Prognosis was less than a month,

The treatments weren’t fun,

I know your days were numbered,

For three months we fought and won.

As you fought to stay here,

I did all I could to help you,

I respected your decision,

When you told me you were through.

You were tired from the fight,

You gave it all you had,

I told you it was OK to go,

Don’t worry that I’m sad.

All night I stayed with you,

The time had finally come,

We went together as a family,

And held you ‘til it was done.

As we pick up the pieces…,

Through all the stops and starts,

Please know we dearly miss you,

You’re forever in our hearts.

   RW

 To see her tribute webpage, click on link:  http://petsupports.com/snowball.htm

Copyright 2004 © LBMAAAF.ORG