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care-credit

Pet Memorial

Remember your beloved pet by adding a favorite photo him or her here.

  • 04/06/2001 - 01/13/2015
    Owner: Gary and Becky Schwintz
    We would like to give a huge Thanks to everyone at Animal Hospital Jones Road for all the great care Duchess received.
  • 2/14/2005 - 11/29/2015
    Owner: Kevin & Julie Hughes
    Our sweet Ellie Belle
  • 07/14/2000 - 06/02/2015
    Owner: Tom & Sharon Walter
    We were graced with her presence for 15 years. Ally was the sweetest and most intelligent cat we have ever known and we will never forget her.
  • 02/26/2005 - 11/05/2015
    Owner: Judy Kemper
    Einstein always thought he was a big dog!
  • 01/2013 - 10/24/2015
    Owner: Rick and Mary Jo Boggan
    She was a sweetheart.
  • 7/ 1999 - 10/ 2015
    Owner: Jerry Flores
    You will always be in our thoughts.
  • 11/2001 - 05/2014
    Owner: Justin Foster
    Penny (mini-pincher) with her best bud Buddy. We miss her terribly
  • 2005 - 8-17-15
    Owner: Robert & Jeannie Garcia
    SUCH A WONDERFUL LOVING DOG
  • 3/25/1998 - 9/11/2015
    Owner: Barbara Self
    Dakota was a great dog. Loyal and sweet.
  • 03/01/2000 - 08/04/2015
    Owner: Andres
    Our sweet Chelsea with our son. She will always be remembered.
  • 03/30/2000 - 03/12/2015
    Owner: Mike & Dee Hairston
    He was a good boy and will be in our hearts forever.
  • 3-18-2005 - 7-19-2015
    Owner: Jim and Ann Bunch
    Thanks for being the best big brother ever - I will look after the house and Mom and Dad for you. Love, Heidi
  • 2004 - 7-23-15
    Owner: Robert and Jeannie Garcia
    Nearly blind and afflicted with multiple medical issues, she was a sweet lovable girl. We miss you Ruby.
  • 05/01/2015 - 07/25/2015
    Owner: Neil C.
    There are no words to describe how much Comet meant to our family. He was the life of the party; best bud to our son. He'll be missed dearly.
  • 2/25/04 - 7/17/15
    Owner: Katherine Kay
    Haley
  • 11/29/2006 - 6/18/2015
    Owner: John and Shawna Deming
    Just being happy
  • 7/12/2010 - 6/5/2015
    Owner: Stephanie Ross
    We loved the time you spent with us. God bless you and we will miss you.
  • February 2 - April 17,
    Owner: Erick Ceron
    (Written on Nuffie's last birthday. I said everything to her then - there was no need of a eulogy.) Today, my dear kitten Nuffie turned twenty. Of course, my mother and I ruminated upon her and our own lives. The power of connecting with a pet is a cherished privilege that everyone should experience. It wasn't until recently I started realizing that I grew up with my cat. I was always an anxious child, and she (and her mother) were always there to calm me. When I gave up on connecting with people, she brought me out of my shell. My mother had Nuffie's mother, my sister had her dog, and now I had my cat. I was four and some months when she was born. There are very few events I remember from this timeframe, but I remember clearly how I felt when I first saw her mother and her new litter. Of course, my mother filled in the gaps where the story went hazy. Considering Nuffie's mother was a black and grey cat, all of the kittens were of similar coloring, or brown, or other darker shades. Except Nuffie. She was different. And these kittens were adventurous, crawling all over the house and getting trapped behind the piano and furniture. And then there was Nuffie, the second born, near her mother, poised like a pretty princess. It was inevitable that we had to give up the rest of them for adoption. I've always wondered what became of them. Anyway, we were originally going to give away the mother as well, but, according to my mother, she had stared at her. No protests, just the glare. She probably was somebody else's cat, but she kept coming to our back yard, and had always been a survivor. In fact, we had to declaw her because she kept beating up my sister's dog (a miniature German shepherd, by the way). She knew what was happening. Thankfully my mother responds to guilt as well as she proliferates it. So at least we took back the mother and went back home to Nuffie, and she became my mother's constant companion. She would always sit next to her on the couch, watching TV, watching her play video games. She would sense her seizures and watch over her. Thankfully, this keen sense had passed on to Nuffie. A lot of people misunderstand cats as aloof and uncaring. Those people are usually the ones that believe animals can't feel or think. Nuffie has been always affectionate. I remember all of those nights where she would jump onto my bed and curl up next to my legs. I used to hate it, I couldn't stretch out. But not anymore. She also was a lady of leisure and intelligence. She always demanded our utmost attention. Running around and climbing on the furniture was beneath her. Well, not completely. But she wasn't wild about it. She learned her lesson from high places. And she would stand by the front door hunting for any geckos and june bugs that would slip in at the beginning of every summer. Otherwise, she displayed her intelligence in her timing and other actions. She quickly figured out how to open doors whenever we would have to lock her up. No, she was always a vocal cat. She could always elongate a single meow to sound like a full multi-syllabic sentence. I can carry conversations with her. She would always respond at the appropriate times. I wish I knew what she was saying. She must've picked up after me. Her intelligence was evident on how she learned many words. They say that cats can vocalize about 100 human words in their analogous places. I think Nuffie has a PhD in English. We can't even spell "Time for M-E-D-S." She knows. She was also different from most cats in that she always was a lady of luxury. She would never expend more energy than she had to. Delightful company. She's the kind of cat that you would bring to a cocktail party. And as most of you probably know, the past couple of years have been difficult for her. The toll of hyperthyroidism and the resulting dehydration episodes, and being 17, 18, 19, made everyone start talking about euthanization. Especially my father. But that's a story for another day. It's to the point that Nuffie learned that word. Whenever anyone would start speaking of it, her eyes would just dim, and she would walk away. But we were very fortunate to have found a group of veterinarians that didn't already write her off. They have found a regiment that is having great success. Yes, she may be underweight, and yes, you usually wouldn't mix opioids and catnip, but as her primary doctor would say, he wishes he would be in such good health and comfort when he's 140. I gave them a cake today. One other surprise today is that my mother never knew why I chose Nuffie's name. She was convinced that my sister helped me choose that name because Nuffie was always a fun cat. Just reverse "fun" and make it sound cute. But no. -I- named Nuffie that way because from the first day, I knew she was different, like me. That was why I chose her out of all of the others. "Fluffy" came to mind, but I knew that would not do for such a cat and for such a person. We were different. I don't settle for only a C or a K. And maybe it was through a rhyming game that I came upon "Nuffie," but I knew that this novel way of the usual name of "Fluffy" would suit her unique personality. And now, in her life of luxury and comfort, she is reminding me about all of her lessons she has taught me throughout life about the power of fragility and the transience of strength. The connection of one living being to another. The simplicity of life, and unnecessarily complex nature of humans. About love and kindness. Thanks to her, I knew more than the cruel words of humans - I know of the vulnerability of people as well. (And I had a dream about her recently.) I just had the most beautiful and haunting dream. For some reason, I was living on-site at a convalescent home. As the lead nurse, of course. We had a pair of patients sharing a room - a granddaughter and grandmother. The parents/children came to visit them. I tended to their needs, explained to the visiting mother that her mother's cognition was becoming noticeably weaker. Her advanced age was advancing quickly. Her daughter was rehabilitating quite nicely, though. Should be going home within the month, actually. She started sobbing. Her mother couldn't have chosen a worse time to hurry up and die, and her daughter couldn't have chose a worse time to come home. The girl's elderly cat had passed away during her recovery here. You can see where this is going. We went to the lobby and I was telling her the story of Nuffie. How horrible that was, worsened by my own mother's worsening cognition as well. She expressed her sympathies and I reassured her that this is her reality as well, now. She left, and I went about my rounds. I came to a room with its door closed. Which was against policy, by the way. Our patients had to leave their doors open in the afternoon for ventilation (and other nursing reasons). I knocked, and there was no answer. I opened the door. And guess what? Nuffie's exact room, how I still have it at home, with her curled up, sleeping perfectly still. Too perfectly still. I cried out and rushed to her. Still no response. I gently petted her behind her ears, like how I would always wake her up. She was cold and limp, exactly as cold and limp as I sent her off. I was screaming and crying as you could probably imagine. But I had to still pick her up. One more time. This was a supernatural opportunity that I couldn't pass up. As soon as I had her cradled in my arms, she warmed up, opened her eyes and looked around. I ran out, screaming, "She's back!" I ran her through all of the halls, introducing her to everyone. All the while Nuffie was looking around, staying in my arms. She always hated being picked up, but I wasn't complaining. I ran to the room with the girl and the grandmother, and of course they both brightened up. The girl told me about her cat, and how she couldn't wait to get home to see her. I was still rejoicing over Nuffie, I couldn't care enough to tell the girl what her mother told me. It was all in all the best afternoon I've had in forever. Nuffie wandered around, inspecting everything and everyone, how she always did. Sat next to me in the lobby couch basking in my praise and stories. Her eyes slightly squinted in her own brand of annoyance when I would talk about some of her kittenish stories. Like that one time when I was about 5 or 6 and built a miniature cardboard castle for a project and how she kept it for herself. It was strange, though, that she never meowed a single word. But I still knew what she wanted and was thinking. I really missed how we could communicate with only body language. She leapt off the couch and started walking back to the corridors. I glanced outside the window, and it was starting to dissolve into evening. It was about the time it started to cool off a little, and some of the patients needed to go to sleep. Nuffie led me to the room I found her in. She sat in front of the opened door, watching me as I caught up. We gazed at each other for a while. I said, "I'm so glad to have you back. You've had a long day. Let's rest. I brush you when you wake up." She turned forward, purring loudly, and made for her bed. (By the way, her bed is a selection of a few pillows and cat beds on top of our old twin bed.) She sat in front of the large bed, looking at her favorite small bed on it. Still purring, she just sat there, looking between me and that bed. That was usually her signal to lift her. I bent down, but she jumped up before I could wrap my arms around her, as usual. Nuffie paced on her bed, settling down. She was still purring and started closing her eyes, my cue to start petting her. I curled my fingers and she rubbed her whiskers on my knuckles. I thought I heard something from the hallway, so I looked. It wasn't the nursing home. It was my home. Our home. Nuffie and I were home. I turned back, humming and speaking softly to her. I really missed this softening of my voice and telling her how beautiful her spirit was, how elegant and intelligent she was, how I love her. I added one more part to this routine. "I miss you." And then, on cue, her purring eased, her fur became cold, and she was as perfectly limp as I found her. June 25, 2015 Nuffie Ceron Majestic Lady Chanteuse in Faux Charmeuse February 23, 1995 April 17, 2015
  • 06/24/2008 - 06/11/2015
    Owner: Susan Locke
    RIP sweet girl! Your big sister misses you everyday. When we picked you up you were covered in ant bites because you were the nosey one out of the litter, that never changed. I miss you and your crazy ways every day. See you at the bridge!
  • April 2000 - April 1st,
    Owner: Jennifer Rutledge
    She was always so proper and sweet - just like a little lady. You are so loved and missed, Snickers!!