On behalf of the staff at Camino Animal Clinic, we are honored to pay respect to our beloved animal friends who have passed. We also welcome you to create a lasting tribute for your beloved pet or animal friend on our website’s Pet Memorial page. Please feel free to complete the following Pet Memorial Form.
Little Madison, aka, Miss Madison, Maddy, Punkin Puss, Madison Boo. We had a Maltese named Lexi. Our groomer told us about a little Maltese a family wanted to give up. I went to see her and that was all I needed. Madison was 1 1/2 years old and running all over the apartment she was living in. We rescued her that day. She was the sweetest little soul ever. Madison loved to eat and would start woofing at us about an hour before meal time. She would look at each one of us if the other wasn’t looking and paying attention to her, and woof quietly. The longer it went on, the louder she would become. She would wait patiently while we fixed all her medications before her meal. She loved to see the mail lady and help us retrieve the mail from the mailbox. She would always sun herself on my husband’s putting green in the backyard. She never learned to play, but one time when we were throwing around a cloth football with her big sister, Lexi, she ran and grabbed the football and hid. She would then only bark when we played with Lexi. We tried to play with her and she didn’t know what to do. She tolerated the many hugs and kisses we gave her. If we tried to kiss her, she would walk away, then come back and tease us, but not get close enough unless we grabbed her and gave her kisses. When her new little sister, Bijou, would come up and kiss her, she would just turn her head away. We think she liked it a little. She loved to ride in the car and go anywhere with us. She always had to look out the front window to see where we were going. We always said this little girl had more than nine lives. About three years ago, she started getting bladder infections. She pulled through bladder surgery (it appeared she had two bladders, which Dr. Fryer corrected) and came through that surgery. A while after the first surgery, she had bladder infection after bladder infection and eventually had the MRSA virus (which Dr. Hall diagnosed and treated). She fought through that and we thought everything was okay. During all this, little Madison, never complained or seemed ill at all to us. After the first surgery, she bled internally and was diagnosed with Autoimmune Cytopenia (I hope I spelled that okay). One day we noticed she couldn’t breathe well. Now she had an enlarged heart. Like we said, nine lives. Then the bladder infections started again. Now she had a bladder stone. She was in pain and the only option was surgery now that everything else had been tried. We knew it was risky, but didn’t want her in pain. The surgery by Dr. Hall was miraculous in the fact that she actually made it through the surgery. Poor little Madison never quite recovered from it. The last week was agony for her as well as us. Little Bijou kept going over and licking her. Madison would just lay there and let Bijou kiss her. We loved this little angel so much it was the hardest thing in the world to see this little girl that had been through so much, go through any more. She wouldn’t eat no matter what we did. She was telling us she had enough. She would lick Dr. Fryer when, by accident, a shot would hurt her.
There aren’t words enough to describe how much we miss her and always will. Our little angel has stopped hurting and maybe one day, we will stop hurting from missing her. She will always be a part of our family and will be loved and never forgotten. We only wish we could have had more time with her, but she is now at peace and hurting no more. She had wonderful care at Camino Animal Clinic and if it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t have had Madison as long as we did. We are forever grateful and now Bijou (lovingly called the “Monster”) will benefit from their care. Thank you Dr. Fryer and Dr. Hall and everyone at Camino Animal Clinic for loving and prolonging the life of little Miss Madison. 12/21/1999 – 11/16/2013.
Oliver aka Ollie Baba, Ollie Bear, Oliver Oswald, Lala-beer, your cat, came into our lives 7 years ago. He was a gentle soul and a joy to all who knew him. Ollie loved everyone and always greeted us with a loving and kind look in his beautiful blue eyes. Ollie loved the mornings and would run around the clinic chasing anything that moved. He would paw at the drawer up front where we kept his toys and treats, enticing us to play with him. When dashing through the clinic, his little feet would kick out to the side and he looked like a little rabbit.
One of our fondest memories was catching Ollie eating half of a Cheesecake Factory cheesecake on the back counter. He looked so surprised and quickly dashed up front like nothing was wrong. He spent the rest of the day waddling around the clinic and sleeping off his sugar high in the towel cabinet. Occasionally he would find a new place to hide in the clinic and a half hour search would ensue. The next thing we knew he was strolling through the clinic and the search would be called off. From time to time he would go next door and sleep in the dressing rooms or stroll through the flower shop.
He was a wonderful companion to all the orphaned kittens and would willingly play, groom, share his bed and food with them. Our staff lovingly, faithfully and voluntarily took care of Oliver every Sunday for the past 7 years. We all enjoyed our one-on-one time with him and feel blessed to have shared our lives with him. Ollie was a gentle, loving member of our hospital team and will be greatly missed by all of our staff and clients.
Leo was, in many ways, a typical beagle… he had soulful eyes and a mourful expression countered by a happily wagging tail and mischievous personality. His sense of smell took precedence over all else, and led him to make countless unsanctioned visits into the surrounding neighborhoods – usually at top speed, moving so fast that only another dog could catch him. His focus and concentration would have been inspiring, had it not also been so annoying, for nothing could distract him when on the trail of food, squirrel, rabbit or cat.
One of his obedience school teachers once said “…to Leo, life is a bowl of cherries, and he’s going to eat every one of them!” Good or bad, he did everything in a big way – from nearly pulling down the Christmas tree at 7 months old, to consuming an entire jar of leg wax when he was eight years old. If something was to be destroyed, like furniture, it had to be brand new furniture. It wasn’t enough to chem the gear shift on his grandmother’s brand new car, he also had to throw up in it.
He had a voracious appetite, and not just for edible items (although he loved those too). He consumed – or attempted to consume – lipstick, contact lenses, medicines, money, credit cards, chocolate, books, clothes, shoes, eyeglasses, plants, pin cushions, groceries and just about anything else that wouldn’t bite back. Stretched to fullest (including tongue) his body was so long and flexible he could reach unexpected heights (countertops) and lows (bottom of garbage cans).
Leo was an escape artist. He could wiggle his way out of collars, bandages, your arms and even harnesses. He could let himself out of a single-latch crate in about 3 seconds. On the flip side he was clever at getting into things you wanted him to stay out of … like closets, cabinets, other dogs’ crates, purses and the zippered luggage of houseguests.
No person was allowed to “not like dogs” in Leo’s presence – he could spot a non-dog lover at 20 yards and nothing would deter him from attempting to make friends. In his nearly 18 years, I can’t think of anyone he failed to win over.
Leo was the living embodiment of “joie de vivre,” although as he aged, he expressed it in more dignified and noble ways. He was content to hand out with his pack, as opposed to running off on an adventure. He stopped scattering the contents of purses all over the house, and merely put his head in them to see what was there. He opted to coax a treat out of us, rather than to try to steal it off the counter.
When he finally passed away, he left a big hole in our hearts. We still think of him, and we still miss him. He was a good dog.
Thanks to Camino Animal Clinic for letting us share out memories! – Fred and Jenny Mandel