Dog gone.

• Position: READERSWRITE - Column

It takes a brave man to let strangers who might not be "men who love dogs" know how you really "feel. Most men don't talk about their feelings to anyone. You did a brave and good thing in telling us about Donnie (Up Front November). I lost Annie and Katie, my two Shetland sheepdogs, constant companions for 14 years, one after the other last year. Annie was my soul mate. Katie was her sidekick. To say losing those dogs broke my heart is an understatement. I was going to wait to get a new dog but didn't. I found Tabby, a rescue mutt, on the Internet. Tabby rescued me, rather than the other way around. Some people will read your column and think, "Get over it." They won't be "men who love dogs." We don't get over it; we get a new dog. We understand. We are a brotherhood.

Dr. Robert R. Earnest

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

Waynesville

I know you don't know me, and I must admit I do not on a regular basis stay in at lunchtime and read the Up Front section. But for some reason I did today and as I wipe the tears I just wanted to thank you for putting so eloquently all that I just went through with our beautiful, nearly 13-year-old yellow lab, Ellie. The hardest point was making the decision and having all those memories let go. My youngest was in kindergarten when we got her and is now a freshman at Appalachian State. It's hard to imagine this new phase of being an empty nester without Ellie. As a sales representative, I enjoy your magazine, as it keeps me connected with what is going on in North Carolina; personally, you tugged at my heartstrings. Just wanted to let you know how poignant your article was to a new reader.

Tracy Geiger, corporate account manager Graylyn International Conference Center Winston-Salem

I've had canine companions all my life and have had the experience of helping many buddies pass on. It is an experience that is always heart-wrenching and amazing, too. Ozone (yes, that was his name) was half German shepherd and half Irish wolfhound and lived to the ripe age of 14. His last trip to the vet was preceded by his inability to pull his 94 pounds up to stand anymore. His back end had withered, and he'd been incontinent for months. The vet acknowledged that Ozone was at the end of his road and, with my consent, administered the "goodbye" medicine. He was gone in less than a minute. She left me in the examining room with him so I...