Danny was only a year old when we rescued him. The day we picked him up I seen a frightened English cream golden retriever, who was shaking from the terror that had endured since he was born. Danny was just fur and bones when I adopted him, he was neglected, hungry and left to die. A heartbreaking moment that would change both of our lives for the better.

Six months earlier I had lost my mother and best friend to a long-term battle with MS. It was the worst day of my life. Prolonged feelings of sadness began to kick in and I was a hot mess. I was lost and ready to throw in the towel of life and give up. I spent those next six months with a feeling of emptiness, like an existing void within my broken soul. I needed to make an appointment and talk with a therapist asap. I was later prescribed an antidepressant by my psychiatrist. Therapy helped, but sometimes it wasn't enough. Three rounds of three different antidepressant medications and it didn't do me much justice.

When the medical approaches failed me, a family member recommended a better one. She told me about a dog who was in desperate need of a new home and family. Mind you, I never owned a dog in my life and didn't even know where to begin as far as rescuing one, but it would all fall into place and come together.

Shortly thereafter, we made arrangements to rescue the dog and the minute I seen the trauma behind those puppy dogs eyes, I knew that I wasn't the only one who felt lost. I realized that I needed the dog just as much as he needed me so I took him in. He went by the name Danny, and to keep it simple on him I left his name alone. I didn't want to make things anymore difficult than they already were.

The first week of owning Danny was extremely challenging. He shook like a leaf for the first few days and didn't want to be bothered by anyone or anything. By the second week things eased up and he finally calmed down and came around. He was eating like a normal dog would and I spoiled him with treats, of course. Danny was becoming more affectionate and lovable as time went on. Him and I developed a strong bond in such a short period of time.

That empty place in my heart was no longer empty and my soul was no longer broken thanks to Danny. He filled my heart with all the love that I needed. For me, it was a light of hope that gleamed from the end of that dark tunnel and it was more than enough to mend my broken soul back together.

Danny is my best friend. He always greets me at the door when I get home from work and he's always there to sleep by my side at night. Sometimes he can be a pain in the ass but I wouldn't trade him for the world.

I had a beautiful cat that we bestowed with a godawful name: Coconut. Because the name was so inappropriate for such beauty, we instead called him Coco, like the undying beauty found in Coco Chanel's lovely creations.

Coco was a stray who landed on our doorstep one cold and rainy February night. He was smart enough that once he'd come inside and finished the bite to eat we'd given him, he immediately pounced upon my chair and and proceeded to curl up directly on my chest just over my heart, as if to say, "Hey there! I know you make the decisions. I like it here a bunch. Can I please stay?"

Needless to say, I was smitten, not only with his beauty and gorgeous midnight blue eyes and Flame Point Siamese coloring, but also with his eagerness to love and his intellect. I often said Coco was smarter than anyone I knew, and I still think that was a fairly accurate assumption.

Over the eighteen years that I was gifted with this ginormous and beautiful animal's soul, I came to realize that he was my Spirit Animal in every possible sense. One look into his blue eyes or one sound of his loud and lamb like meow, and I immediately knew what he was thinking or wanted. If was as if we were on the same mental planes. While I have had several close relationships with animals in my fifty something years, I had never experienced such a profound relationship as the one I had with Coco.

I lost Coco after eighteen blissful years. It was and remains the hardest animal loss I've ever experienced. At times, so intense is my grief that I still cry at the least thought of him. No, in my lifetime there will never again be another sweet animal soul in my life like sweet Coco, for he was one of a kind, unique in all ways, and derived from dreams of legendary cats that once belonged to Gods long ago in far places like Egypt.

I'll miss and love you, Coco - always.

A True Story of My Childhood:

Growing up, we had chickens. My oldest brother also owned a dog named Rex. Rex was a pretty nice dog generally, but sadly, he was a incurable chicken killer. If he got free and into the chicken run, it was bye-bye chickens! It was one summer afternoon that Rex got out and into the chicken run, leaving havoc and death in his wake. My brothers, after catching Rex, went out to count dead chickens. My brother J. was sad to note that our favorite Rhode Island Red chicken was laying dead outside the chicken coop. Going inside he counted the dead ones inside, and then headed back out. As J. came out he watched the Rhode Island Red raise her head, look around and then get up. She walked away uninjured and untouched. Somehow that chicken was smart enough to play dead when there was danger! She played dead for years before she died. But, she will always hold a place in my memory as The Chicken That Played Dead.

Mr. Myogi had a perfect white mustache on his upper lip, and carried a wise look in his eyes. He had ninja skills that I never taught him. He could skillfully climb up my skirt without grabbing skin and perch on my shoulder so we could conquer the world together. Cream and milk was his favorite snack, and often gave him a third white patch on his chin. He wasn't a very active cat, he never hunted, but his strange ninja skills were always ready to go.

Sadly this old man passed away several years ago and has proven to be the best cat I've ever owned.

This grey tabby

Entrained himself to my heart

Willow had a white smile

Across his face

And

A white Bindi on his forehead

We loved each other

20 years

I dreamed

He was reborn

A lion cub

That put a smile on my

Who knows her breed? Found on the side of a rural, country, road on a wet, Sunday afternoon - she was rescued. A perfect match for the "man of the house" whose name is Smoke - a black, "weenie" dog with front feet that turn outward, ears that come close to dragging the ground, and the fighting style of a ninja (even the pit bull, Queenie, doesn't challenge him). Brooke has curly, short, black, grey, and white hair with ears and a tail equally proportionate to her face which is definately not that of a "weenie" dog like Smoke but suits her similiar body style. Looking at Brooke, you will see that her left and right eyes do not share the same hue. Her left eye is colored bright blue and her right eye is brown. She is trained to walk on a leash and seems to prance like a show dog. I don't know her past life, but here in the country she's about to become a momma. Due any day now, we are anticipating the birth of Brooke and Smoke's puppies. They are going to make a beautiful addition to this family. So, I don't know the life Brooke use to have but here she is loved and has blended into and extended our family. We are grateful to have found her walking alone on that rainy Sunday.

Black and furry, slender tail curved into a question, large yellow eyes--black slits looking back at me. The laziest cat in the world was here, with a name I can't recall; probably because it didn't exist. Sleeping at my feet and killing all my mice; I was sure a cat was all I needed. All black to ward off people, maybe counter the bad luck glued to me over the years---super lazy to be able to handle it's own. Having time to yourself as a cat lover is critical, especially when the cat is too lazy to damage or annoy you into action.

Let's see

Light on it's feet from the exercise. Walking around the backyard looking for strays, being the leader of a congregation of it's kind. Kind of contradicts the lazy thing, right? To some people, and that's the problem with labels. Labels are shapeshifters, morphing based on context. I need a cat that's lazy to everyone else but me.

I think

Point is, the name doesn't matter, you get it? I wouldn't even say I need a cat, specifically anyway. I don't need anything, but I do need something or someone. That's what I really want, to live comfortable, I guess. But, that's more of a want with survival in the room.

Four white sock paws,

Two alert ears,

Two watchful eyes.

A predator by nature.

He stalks his prey.

An innocent mouse searching for crumbs.

As he gets closer he wiggles his bum.

With a lick of his tongue he pounces on his prey.

Cupped in his paws, he's prized possession.

A quick kill?

No.

He's play toy.

He breaks the mouse's back legs and

juggles it between his paws.

A killer with a hunger for torture.

Eventually, he gets bored and casts the mouse aside.

For a fleeting moment, the mouse is at peace,

and with one last heartbeat, he closes his eyes.

Our cat seeks another craving,

one of attention.

He purrs as he rubs himself on his owner's leg.

Then curls up on his lap and falls asleep.

Our killer is satisfied for now.

I had two amazing German Shepherds who I dearly love and miss. Sam passed three years ago at 14 1/2 years - Brandy followed the next year at 13 1/2. They were a great match. Sam was ever protective and watchful of those he loved. He was my shadow with every step I took he was there. He was a serious soul. Brandy followed a year and a half later and from the get go she was all about the fun.

We always joked that if they had theme songs - Sam's would be "Taking Care of Business" and Brandy's would be "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." So fitting. Sam passed three years ago - he looked at me and drew his last breath and he was gone. He passed close to midnight right before Easter Sunday, so the animal crematory was unable to pick him up until that Monday. They told me to tuck and wrap him in a sheet and they would come early Monday.

On Easter I went to visit my husband who was battling numerous health issues. When I came back I looked in the foyer where Sam was and I was puzzled I couldn't figure out what I was seeing. When I came closer it just took a moment before I began to do the ugly hard cry. Brandy, who was not known for being generous...for example if they were given a treat and if it was something she wasn't particularly fond of she would watch Sam who loved everything gobble his up then sit there casually with hers while he drooled staring intently at her uneaten treat....when he finally began to raise up to make his move she would lean down and swallow it....same with the outside water when they were playing she would rush to the water bowl drink until she had her fill and as Sam panted waiting patiently for his turn she would take her paw and flip it emptying the bowl...but that Sunday in the foyer my broken heart was just torn to shreds. In front of him she had placed her favorite nylabone.

The next morning when the young man came to pick him up and I was telling him and he said, "please leash her up as we take him out." He carried Sam and the bone with him. She sat patiently as he loaded him and the bone. She watched as he turned around in the cul-de-sac and she raised her as she was trailing the scent. She got up and walked across the yard staring as he went around the curve. She and I stood there for a few moments before walking in. Dogs are just amazing beings and blessings. They love large and pure.

I am about to do what I didn't think I could ever do again...a couple of weeks ago I went to meet a litter of four week old German Shepherds. Our school year ends on May 27th and I will be picking up a girl named Houston. Let the adventures begin.

Talk about an odd couple. The two of them grew up together.

Duke was a show quality harrier. His markings and conformation perfect, but his habit of chewing on everything in sight as he lost his puppy teeth landed him in puppy lock up. We rescued him at approximately four months of age from the Calgary SPCA. I wish we hadn't had to sign the documents agreeing to neuter him, but it was that or my husband's heart would break. The two of them bonded inside of five minutes in the room where they take you to decide if that dog you thought would be right, is right.

When our dog was still a puppy, we fell in love with a parrot. This bird was in a cage with seven orange winged Amazon parrots. He was shy and skinny. He was missing one of his toenails on his right foot. And he was bullied. Your classic underdog in a clutch of one of the last wild caught parrots brought into Canada in the early 1980's. We scrimped, saved, begged, and borrowed until we had the $350.00 scraped together to bring him and a beat up old cage we found in the Bargain Finder, home.

Duke was instantly curious. We already had a trio of cockatiels who had access to each other's cages. We were considering breeding them, and they lived under the hanging plants in the front bay window of the townhouse we were renting. We set up Dusty's tray and perch right beside our fish tank where two giant sized Oscar's resided. His cage , where he only stayed overnight and when we were out, was in our kitchen.

Poor bird, he had no idea what his wings were for. We figured he was taken from a wild next before he was fully fledged out. Never saw a wild bird fly because they next inside a hollow. Duke was right there, every time Dusty fell off his tray, thumping onto the carpet, and then walking around looking for a way to use his beak and feet to climb up on anything. The living room curtains were one of his favorite things. We often found Duke sitting at the bottom and Dusty hanging upside down from the curtain rod.

That's how our parrot learned to trust us. Jim was the one to rescue him from his high perches. In the end, Dusty was my bird, although it was Jim who taught how to use his wings and fly. We moved a couple of times over the years, but while we were in our house, the two of them truly became best friends. Dusty learned to talk, and often called the dog by name. Duke would spend his time curled up under his feathered friend's cage when we were at work.

Pizza crusts were their favorite treats. Dusty would take one back to his perch and sit nibbling all of the cheese a sauce off, then reach down to where Duke waited patiently drooling. The exchange was incredible to watch. Duke with his gentle mouth. He caught escaped finches, without hurting them, would wait until Dusty extended it down. The bird hanging by his toes of the edge of the tray under his perch, waited to let go until Duke had firm hold on it. Their transfer was picture perfect. The crust always went straight into the dog's mouth and never ever caused Dusty have to fly to save himself.

Dusty learned to fly up and down the stairs from the basement to the kitchen. Silence upstairs was always trouble. The two of them were expert garbage pickers. There wasn't a garbage can made, they couldn't figure out how to open and then dump all over the floor.

Then they'd share the scraps we scraped off our plates before putting them in the dishwasher. As soon as they heard me coming up the stairs to check on them, I would here the clicking of Dukes paws, and Dusty's toes. The bird always did prefer to walk and climb rather than flying.

The would be under the kitchen table. The spot where we would always find Duke when he'd done something he shouldn't have. The spot where we banished him when he needed a time out. The bird right there with him perched on his back preening the fur on his neck.

When the inevitable happened and Duke passed away, our bird was as heartbroken as we were. He would fly from room to room calling for his pal, until we realized we had to move. For all of us, it was more than difficult to stay in a place where everything reminded us of a loyal companion who was no longer with us.

I wish the different races in our world could understand love forms easily if we let it. A dog and a parrot, and not a small one either, shouldn't be friends like they were. They taught us, and a lot of our friends who met them, size, shape and color mean nothing if you see past them to the soul, the rest doesn't matter. Natural enemies in many ecosystems, their bond was tighter than many married couples. Wake up world. If they can do it, we can too.