Hey Pandas, Tell Me About A Pet You’ve Lost That You Will Never Get Over As Long As You Live (Closed)

Toby. My little warrior, Toby. I'm not generally a dog person. They're cute and sweet but I'm also allergic. So when I say that I loved this little dog so much it hurt, I mean it. He was a senior dog, somewhere between 12 and 16 according to the vet. This little guy was scared of cats half his size and would shake whenever they were around but he was friendly and loving and not at all a yapper like most people would think a Chihuahua/Terrier hybrid should have been. He would put himself between me and people that made me nervous, too. Just the sweetest, most loving and protective old man.

I begged my parents to let me keep him after we had been fostering him for a while. They said fine, but only after he was taken to one more adoption event. Another woman took him home that day. I'm still heartbroken I lost him, but the woman would send updates because she had heard from the shelter owner (we fostered for a no-kill shelter) how much his foster family loved him.

Toby lived for several more years the absolute lap of luxury before old age became too much for him. Knowing his final years were full of dedicated love, attention, and care is the only reason I don't STILL cry over losing him that day. It's been 13 years and still no dog has ever measured up to my little man.

My dog Laddie, a border collie, rescued from the cat and dog home when he was around 2. someone must have taught him circus tricks because he could walk on a barrel we had in the garden. he would escape our garden and come to my school and run around the playground. he got on a bus once and my dad had to pick him up from 20 miles away. he was the smartest dog in the world and the dumbest. a knock on the door when i was 12, found someone telling me my dog had died and was lying about a mile away. i found him and carried him home, could hardly see for crying. years later the neighbors told me they were watching that scene and were almost hysterical with grief at my plight.

My cat Myrtle. She along with 3 other kittens, maybe all siblings, were dumped out at our neighbors. At the time, we lived in a rural area and many irresponsible people would dump their unwanted pets near our or the neighbors’ barns which were located near the roadway. I loathe people who do this because the cats and dogs were often, within hours or days, killed by cars then we’d have to bury them – jerks all.
Anyway, one day, on of the kittens, we named Myrtle, followed me home and stayed. She was the absolute best cat ever. She played “hide and seek” and “Cowboys and Indians” with us where we’d jump out from behind a door and make a shooting sound and she’d jump into the air then run behind a different door to do the same to us. She was amazing – sweet, smart, and unusual. She lived with us in three different houses and in each one, managed to find a way to get on the roof where she’d sit and watch what went on.
Our beloved Myrtle was killed by a neighbor’s horrible dog who they did not keep on a leash and would get out of their yard. We knew it was that dog because he/she had come into our yard numerous times and tried to attack Myrtle. We were always there, and I always protected our sweet, sweet girl. We talked to the owners many times and they, frankly, could not care less.
One day, Myrtle got out without us knowing and the dog was also out. We found our Mrytle dead in our yard dead from what our vet said were classic signs of being shaken by a dog. That’s how dogs kill cats, they shake then. We also know the aggressive and uncontrolled dog was out because a neighbor saw the dog out. However, even though we knew the dog had tried to attack Myrtle before and neighbors saw the dog out, no one saw the dog kill my cat so nothing could be done. I became friends with local LEOs and made it my priority to document with video every single time I saw the dog off their property and off leash. They were fined many hundreds of dollars and finally moved – yeah, a pox on them.
My son, age 10 at the time, and I were devastated, and I remain sad, 20+ years later. I will also forever dislike Dalmatians and despise people who have aggressive dogs.
Myrtle was the best!

We had 2 rescued cats names Bean and Sunfire. Both came from different places. Bean came from a broken home, neglected. We knew the owner and she was going through some personal struggles. She saw we had her cat when she came back from jail and didn't say anything.
Bean was initially timid, territorial and underweight. We rehabilitated her and got her to be the loving cat she became, although feisty and protective.
My daughter found another tiny kitten at a drive in diner. She named it Sunfire. Bean took the kitten in as her own.
Unfortunately what we thought was our forever home we had to move from. The pet-friendly apartment we had moved into was poorly management, very corrupt and unsanitary, we discovered, and we had to break out of the rental contract. We ended up having to give our beloved cats away, as we couldn't find another affordable, pet-friendly place and we didn't want to risk sneaking them in. It was like having to give away a baby. Since no one we know wanted to adopt them, and all the no-kill shelters refused to take them in, or they really were full, we had to give them to the Humane Society. I hope they were given good homes. I'm certain Sunfire, being the laid-back cat he grew up to be must have been a favourite. But I'm certain Bean wouldn't have been accepted as adoptable. The way she looked at me was fear and betrayal. I'll never forget her big, pleading eyes.

Lost Emma - guinea-pig - last year. Got her from a guinea-pig shelter when she was six months old. Till then she lived all alone in a small cage, serving as a toy for four children till they lost interest in her.

First thing she did at ours was fighting the male boss of our guinea-pig group. Next day she was perfect friends with him and all group members. After that she was the nicest, most caring guinea-pig we ever had. Every time one of the group was sick, Emma sat right next to them. Every time a new guinea-pig arrived, she directly made friends with them. Every time one of them died, she was sad for days.

She developed some tooth problems over the years and something with her lower spine was wrong, both treated the best way we could. She survived a major tooth surgery. When she turned five, we started feeding her a small piece of fruit every day because, "She's so old. Let's spoil her for the last months she's got left." So almost every day she had a small piece of banana (big guinea-pig no-no) plus all fancy food she loved (parsley, basil, ...).

Emma was 9 1/2 years old when we had to put her down last summer. Her hind legs gave up eventually. I am pretty sure if that hadn't been the case, she'd still be hanging around ordering her daily banana.

My doggie Neysa. I got her when I first moved out on my own, she was with me through a couple of breakups, then meeting and marrying my husband. She was a shelter dog, probably mostly some kind of terrier. Fiercely protective of me, and a better judge of people than I am. I miss her so much, had to put her to sleep after a return bout of cancer when she was 13.

I had two pet turtles in China, Skipper and Snapper. Snapper was very fierce and she didn't like anyone. Skipper was larger and he liked jumping (weird, right?). He also liked eating shrimp. Because of the pandemic, I couldn't go back to China to see them. My uncle let them both free into the Ming Jiang river. (I live in Fuzhou.) I still miss them.

My last dog Snow. He was a samoyed. We first found him running down the freeway with a chain around his neck. It was matted into his fur. He was a huge Matt. He was afraid of loud noises and people. He was afraid to accept food from us. We gained his trust, shaved him down, and washed him up. He was the sweetest,most loving, behaved dog we ever had. He'd never run away. Sometimes he'd relax in the front yard while my dad did yard work. He loved it when we pulled him on our wagon. He slept in my room on a carpet with a baby blanket on top. He never did make it to old age. He was stolen one day when I was at school. A note was left on our door "we're keeping him." He was diabetic and had arthritis. I still miss him to this day. I hope he was taken care of. I hope I'll see him in the afterlife.

We had a tiny kitten Poppy, only 8 weeks old. We were looking after an overweight labrador called Jaffa who accidentally sat on Poppy. Poppy was crushed and died before we could get her to the vets.

I will never get over my brindle French Bulldog Cosmo, whose nickname was Monkey 'cos he looked a little like a gorilla. He used to act like he was my dog husband. When he wanted attention and I was on my laptop, he would place his entire body on the keyboard. We joked that he was saying, "No woman of mine's gonna work!"
He slept at the foot of my bed, and when it was time for me to turn in for the night he'd sit next to me and bark. If that didn't work he'd run into the bedroom and stand on the bed and bark. If this, too, failed to get me to bed on time, he'd run down the hallway between the two rooms, barking.
If I took a trip without him (which was rare), he'd shun me for about three days after I got back, to "teach me a lesson."
He was the moodiest, sweetest boy. In his dotage, he stopped eating and my father had to feed him by hand, which he said he considered "an honor." My last photo of Cosmo is Dad sitting on the floor and full-body embracing him - Dad didn't even know I took the picture.
He lived to be 15 and I miss him every day.

My cat Batista (my brother gave him that name). He's never been a cat who would come to me for cuddles. But he'd stare at me with his big eyes, sit with me when I felt lonely. I always felt how much he loved me eventhough he didnt show it in the way other cats do. Then one day my other cat had to be put down (I'll also never forget about her). She was the one sitting on my lap whenever possible, complaining as soon as I stoped petting her. Whenever I felt sad she'd be with me, giving me all her love while Batista would just be as close as possible without touching me. One night after she was gone I sat on the kitchen floor, crying and feeling so damn lonely. Then my 20 year old Batista sat down next to me, looked at me like he always did. Knowing he was with me was already so comforting but he suddenly got up and for the first time in his life he climbed on my leg. He sat down and kept looking at me like he wanted to know if he's doing it right. After that night he always sat or slept on my lap. I dont know why he did it but it always felt like he only did it for me. That he could feel how much I missed cuddling with my other cat and that he just wanted to make it easier for me. And he did. Coming home, knowing that he'd be there waiting for me, has always been reason enough to smile, no matter how sad I was. About a year later he had to be put down, too. I went to the doctor with him and, like my other cat, he looked me in the eyes while he took his last breath. After all they've done for me knowing that the last thing they saw was a person who loved them with her whole heart is kinda comforting. But I still miss them everyday and I dont think that I could ever stop.

An Australian Cattle Dog named Rasputin. As an adult I missed having a dog, I felt my childhood dog - a staffie (staffordshire terrier, similar to a pitbull) named Oxo - basically raised me, so towards the end of my studies I started researching and visiting the SPCA, for months. I fell in love with the breed, but knew they are hard work and not really suited for suburbia. Eventually I got him as a puppy, we went to puppy classes, obedience classes, agility training, but something was off. He kept going for the other dogs, he bit me, he bit my other dog, he went for everyone, unpredictably and without warning ... we were asked to leave, we went for anger management classes. We found other people who had heelers and asked for advice. I tried everything. It was a nightmare but we were also so close, basically telepathic. I had up-to-then undiagnosed anxiety that I was just starting to deal with through therapy and medication and I think he felt very protective over me, but this ended up being a very unhealthy relationship, and after him attacking the neighbour's dog I had to surrender him. He was 6 years old. It's been almost 3 years and I live on a farm now and I think of him every day. I look out for him, hoping he somehow escaped and came looking for me. One part of me knows it was just 'one of those things' but I regret having to give him up, even though I honestly can't see how I could have managed to move out here sooner, or have done anything different. I wish we just ran away and figured something out. He was the most beautiful dog I've ever seen, the softest coat, and he was so smart! I cried so much I couldn't see through my puffy eyes the next day. The next month I resigned and started the process to move out of the city.

My parakeet named pie. He was blue and white and constantly tried to bite us. He tragically died when we were moving and he stayed with friends for a couple of days. They put him next to an open window at night and the next morning he was dead. He was our first pet and I miss him a lot.

Timmy - one of the first rescue dogs taken in by my rescue centre - St Giles, Taunton UK, when the cruel puppy farms were shut down. He ended up having both eyes removed , he couldn’t hear very well either. He was my shadow for 2 years never leaving my side, such a beautiful boy. When he became ill I knew he couldn’t cope with any treatment, so for his peace and wellbeing he went to his final sleep. X

We rescued Anakin from the middle of the road when he was just a tiny kitten. He was inches from getting hit. For the first couple of days, he was only able to eat by licking KRM off of my chest but I finally got him to drink from a bottle. He would sleep on my chest and just purr for hours.
Unfortunately, he was also very good at getting out of the house, despite our best efforts and one morning, he was gone, just like that, because people have to speed up and down the road. He was barely one.

When I was very little, the entire family lived with my grandma. I had a sweet doggy, Murphy that was with me my entire life. When I moved out of state when I was six, he always looked for me in the backyard every day hoping I could play with him. When I was nine, grandma called me and said he had died. I´m so glad I was able to know such a lovely dog.

My beautiful baby dog, who was nearly 2 years old, when he passed. His name was Bones/Cowboy. My family loved him so much. Sadly, he passes a few days before his birthday. He died of suffocation. :(

My Shetland Pony, Chester. He was the best. I had him trained to pull a small cart and he loved it! We'd take off down the road and just go. He was the best pony ever. I had him for about 8 years and he started developing laminitis, where the coffin bone rotates and it become very painful for them to walk. After giving him "bute" shots he'd get better and keeping him in a dry pen kept him sound, but eventually he got worse and I had to put him down. He was my best bud. I'll never forget him and miss him all the time.

Her name was 'Pen 170' at the animal shelter. She was a chow/German Shepherd mix. I had sent Koty over the rainbow bridge November 11, and had surgery on November 18 and December 3, so I'd waited a little while to get another baby. I saw her picture on the local shelter website on Christmas Day. I knew she was the one.

She needed me, more than I could have ever imagined. She was roughly 6 years old. She'd recently had pups. She was found wandering the streets, searching for food. She was less than half her target weight. She was covered with scars, some fairly fresh.

My parents went with me to meet her. She hadn't been spayed yet, so I couldn't take her home that day. The staff didn't think we'd choose her. Out in the yard, she ignored us. She wanted no part of us. My parents were dubious. I was adamant. I want this dog.

We will never know what her story was, but she was not treated well. She didn't know how to dog. She was not affectionate. She didn't play with toys. She needed me to sit near her when she ate. She barked like a vicious beast when anyone came into a room where she was already.

Three and a half years after I brought her home, she had a seizure. She was diagnosed with Lymphoma. The vet said she might live a month, if I was lucky maybe a month and a half. She lived a good four months before she had another seizure, on New Years Day 2019. By January 10, I was feeding her soft food by hand. I said I'd know when it was time.

The night of January 15, she lay by my bed, and she looked at me and I felt her tell me it was time. I let her go the next morning. I am grateful for the 4 years of unconditional love I was able to give her. I wish I could have given her more. She deserved more.

This is more a loss my mom will never get over (even though I do miss her as well) but her chihuahua named Pepper. Pepper was the absolute opposite of what you’d expect from a chihuahua. She almost never barked or nipped or anything along those lines. She did have severe small-dog-itis, but was overall a very chill dog. She was also incredibly spoiled and knew it.

My mom got her when I was about 2 years old, and the breeder had a granddaughter the same age who played with the puppies, so that’s probably why she acted so well around kids. Everyone loved Pepper, not just in the family, but literally everyone who met her loved her. My mom was especially bonded with her, and even now still refers to her as her "doggy soulmate."

Sadly, she suddenly got sick at about age 11, and passed away. It devastated my mom the most (along with our other dog who Pepper practically raised). This was about 8 years ago.