Greetings,

As the Executive Director of an organization that uses the powerful bond between dogs and humans to improve lives - I am reminded of the pain of losing a treasured pet on a frequent basis. Many people have expressed to me that losing their pet was as difficult as losing a human family member.  

As we fund raise for our new Forever Home, I sometimes feel as though I'm justifying the need for donations.  No, we are not solving world hunger or building water supplies in third world countries.  We are not building a new public theater and our therapy dogs can't solve the homeless problem in our country.  But, what we do IS very powerful and meaningful to the families right here in Central Texas.  

The bond we have with our pets makes a difference in our lives.  If you are in a public place, I suggest you stop reading.  

Take It All Away by Amanda Krakar, age 16

Try as we might to forget it, life is temporary. It may not seem that way as years upon years tick by and each day is filled with vigor and vitality, but the threat of death never becomes more apparent than when something suddenly goes wrong. The scariest thing about death, however, is that it isn't our own death that hurts the most. How can it when you'd no longer be around to feel it? No, the scariest thing about the fragility of life is that ones you love can be so easily taken from you, leaving you behind with nothing more than a bittersweet memory.

Anyone who has ever seen a seizure knows how scary it is to watch, and how utterly wrong it is for a body to thrash violently with no conscious thought. To those who have never had to watch someone go through a seizure, I can tell you that there is nothing amusing at all about a body locked in convulsions, all sense gone form the mind of the afflicted. And seizures that happen seemingly without reason are the worst, because as you watch on helplessly you can't help but wonder if something has gone horribly wrong and that this is just a precursor for a death you never want to see.

I'm not sure what exactly it was that woke me up that moment at two-thirty in the morning, but regardless, the moment I felt something was wrong I woke up immediately, any thoughts of sleep completely wiped from my mind. And the event I woke up to is something that will forever have a spot as one of the scariest moments of my life: my cat, who had been sleeping on the second pillow right next to my head, was gasping, coughing, and convulsing.

To others, such fear for a pet might seem unwarranted. They might hear the distinction is species and suddenly recalculate all of what they heard, reducing the severity of the event now that it has become clear it is no longer a beloved human I am talking about. But at the same time, I'm sure those who have lost a pet or have had similar moments in their own lives can understand that when confronted with the loss of someone who is loved more than can be put into words, it doesn't matter that they are not part of our human family. Their species does nothing to lessen the feeling of love, for love knows no differences.

My kitten, who is sitting right next to me even as I write this, has been with me since she was two days old. That was almost seven months ago, and she has been my constant companion since. She is the kitten I poured life into, the one who I would wake up in the middle of the night to feed when she was ill and wasting away. From the very beginning, there was a special bond between us. I literally saved her life, and she metaphorically saved mine. Every moment I am away from her she is in my mind, and every second in her company is a joy unparalleled by any that material things can bring me. Regardless of her species, she is my 'significant other'. Never before could I imagine loving one being so much, and never before had I been so afraid when confronted with the frailness of life.

Seeing my cat have a seizure did not suddenly remind me of what I had, or how I take things for granted. It did not encourage me to cherish all of our moments together, for that is something I do already. I know what I have, this feeling of completeness and love beyond describing. It is because I know what I have that I never want to lose it. I don't want to be all alone again, without a constant companion who enjoys my presence as much as I enjoy hers. No one else could fill her spot in my life, could be as perfect for me as she is. And when confronted with the grave reality, that life is tenuous at best, I realized that I could easily be left all alone again: left incomplete, crippled, without my other half. That is a reality I never want to see happen.

And yet, as I was forced to see that night, what I want and what is are two completely different things, because one day, it will all be taken away from me. One day, whether it be soon or in twenty years, the part of me that is within her will die when she does. The moment I woke to her seizing made me see not what I could lose, but what one day I will lose. There is nothing I can do to stop it, nothing that will keep her from dying, and when she does it will be like death seized my life as well.

One day, no matter what I do, I will be alone again.

The human - animal bond.  It's very real.   

The rest of this e-mail is our normal cheery banter.  You can put away the tissues now.   

 Sincerely,

Debi Krakar

Founder and Executive Director

Austin Dog Alliance

PS - I need a break from construction related activities, so I will be teaching Dog Manners 1 and Pet Therapy on Thursday mornings starting October 25th.  Come join me. 

PSS - Dr. Allen Codding of Anderson Mill Animal Clinic is helping my daughter figure out the source of her kitten's seizures.   

                                       12129 Ranch Road 620 North, Suite 401

                                       Austin, TX  78750                               

I/we would like to donate the following:  $__________________

I/we would like our donation to support: