. On Angels Wings ll –
Stories About the Passing Away of Beloved  Animal Companions

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My Life with Sam   The Author: What He Does & Why He Does It

My Life with Sam

by Ursula Bechert DVM, Ph.D.
Corvallis, Oregon

Tonight would be the night. We both knew it. My friend and companion of 21 years was going to leave me for good. I held her light little body in my arms as I sat down on the sofa. I didn’t want her to go through this alone; I wanted to surround her with my love that had grown through the years of our friendship and time together. We knew each other so well.

I was an undergraduate student at Utah State University in Logan, Utah back in 1980. A ‘teenage’ tortoise-shell, predominantly gray colored cat walked into my kitchen one day in the summer—I didn’t even see where she came from. She was here to check out the house, and walked into the middle of each room with pre-determined purpose. Then she was back in the kitchen and looked at me, then the floor and back again, as if to say, "This will do. You can put my food here." So I did! We spent the next 21 years together.

But now she was gasping for air, struggling to stay alive and here. Each breath was filled with effort as her body shook. Her fur was no longer sleek and shiny, she no longer pounced after paper balls, no longer woke me up by gently padding my eyes after the alarm clock went off. How could this be the moment? Weren’t we always going to be together, sharing experiences and cans of sardines like two old ladies sipping their afternoon teas? Who was going to eat the bones now?

Samantha Elizabeth Pussycat (or Sam E. Cat) was what I called her. We had a unique friendship. Perhaps this was in part due to the fact that she thought she was more human being than cat—she hated interacting with other cats, especially kittens. Kittens disgusted Sam—to even touch one was unthinkable! A definitive hiss followed by a belabored swallow shared with all her air of regal disdain. She was going to make sure that we stayed a one-cat household.

Sam had well-trained staff; she taught us about the seven cat formations… porcelain, pedestalated, cat-a-loaf, Halloween cat, cat pie, pie-a-loaf, dead. We were definite cat enthusiasts.

Sam loved to go on adventures, and we especially enjoyed going on walks and backpacking together. No leashes. There were two challenges for her: streams and dogs. She was the only cat I’ve ever seen who could ‘walk on water’. When her fear of being left behind overrode her fear of water, she would bolt across the stream with incredible speed, and I swear only the undersides of her paws got wet. And if a dog crossed our path—well, I’d have to take a break and wait for the Halloween cat to come down from the tree. She was a good hiker and intrepid explorer, but being a small cat, she would eventually get tired. A pathetic "meow" would be my signal to lift her onto the top of my hard frame pack. With her eyes half-closed, looking down on the poor sot who was trailing us, she did an excellent job of acting like Cleopatra. The person behind us was always jealous.

Even though Sam loved the outdoors, she did not like certain experiences… like hiking in fresh snow. This was clearly a horrible situation, requiring that each paw be shaken alternately as she walked along. It always took quite some time for her to make forward progress. My friends and I, of course, thought it was incredibly funny.

Sam loved to go on road trips with me, and routines quickly evolved around life in the car. After approximately 5 minutes of driving, we’d hear "mrowr, mroowr, mroowr" and spring into action by pulling over to the side of the road, whipping out rags, grabbing Sam, and if we were lucky, we‘d get her head out of the window just before the vomit arrived. My friends still meow like this as a signal to others in the car that they’re feeling a bit car sick! Sam lives on.

One road trip included an infinite span of highway through the deserts of southern California. Sam was stretched out next to me on the bench seat facing forward, sound asleep in dead formation. Roaming around the car was my pet box turtle, Herman. By the way, allowing a turtle to roam freely in a car while you’re driving is not a good idea, because they can wedge themselves perfectly under the brake pedal. So Herman climbs up onto the seat, walks over to Sam and then proceeds to burrow into her belly. Now the entertainment begins. Sam immediately wakes up, jumps into porcelain formation, and is now in a particularly foul mood. She glares at the turtle with a look of pure disgust on her face, severely crabby and slightly disheveled, having just been awakened from a deep sleep. Then she seeks her revenge. By sitting slightly off to the side and behind Herman, she can box jab the turtle’s head as it slowly comes out. But Sam does this with total disdain. "I don’t want to actually touch this creature, but I am so pissed!" Yes, Sam had a temper. I think it lasted for at least 15 minutes that day.

Fifteen minutes that can still bring a smile to my face today. So many memories wrapped into my life with Sam. Little did I realize then, the rich tapestry I was weaving for the future when she would no longer be with me. When nothing but these memories would keep her alive in my heart. I remember other things too.

Sam was an intelligent cat. She knew how to open screen doors and extract food from the bottom of tall tin cans. One weekend, she stayed with my parents who had two other cats. My Dad recalls the story of when he had put a tall can of cat food on the kitchen floor to let the cats lick out the remains. Sam was at the bottom of the pecking order, so had to watch as the other cats tried in vain to get at the food. They were trying to stick their heads into the can, and eventually gave up. Then it was alright for Sam to have a go—she never once put her head into the can. Instead, she used her front paw to extract the food and lick it off her foot. It didn’t take long for the other cats to learn, and then they chased her away.

Sam was a part of my daily life in uniquely routine ways. She knew when I’d come home and would greet me just like dogs are known to do. We used to get the mail together. In the winter, she would sleep with me under the feather downs with her head on the pillow. She knew how to do it right. She was also a steadfast companion during meals, sitting in my lap but never (well, rarely) begging for food. And she would strategically place her body in cat-a-loaf or pedestalated formation on top of whatever I was working on at my desk. "You have to go through me to get to those papers."

Sam was a solid friend and companion for me through many difficult years of my life as well. She was such a good listener and always seemed to know when I was hurting either emotionally or physically. Her bravery shone through when she would nuzzle up to me with her motor in full gear, and provide plenty of reassuring licks to let me know that everything would eventually be alright again. Through tears, I would pet her and explain all that I was feeling. One of the definitions of ‘friend’ is "easy to understand or experience," and that certainly described our relationship.

Life is dynamic and filled with change, and our lives were no exception. After I had my son, Sean Wolf, my relationship with Sam went through changes as well. There was some sibling rivalry at the beginning; both Sean and Sam vying for the spot next to me on the sofa, eyeing each other warily, not really sure about what the other could do in retaliation. But eventually they both seemed to realize that I would always have enough love for both of them, and they grew to love each other. I have some wonderful photographs of Sam and Sean sleeping, stretched out next to each other, with the cat looking longer than the boy.

And now my dear friend was stretched out in agony in my arms, and my son was 8 years old. Sam had been bravely battling hyperthyroidism, chronic renal disease, and arthritis for several years. No heroic efforts to save her life made sense, since she was already so old. Taking care of her took several hours each day. Deep and meaningful friendships like this one needed to be honored. It was time for another transition. But this would be our last one together. All that then remained was the shell of her body, and that we buried on the top of a hill three years ago. Each time we visit her grave, another rock gets added. Memories. Wisps of time gone by, but somehow with enough energy to re-kindle love and keep a part of our relationship alive beyond time. Tears and smiles—that is what Sam is in my life now.

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About the Author   

    What He Does & Why He Does It

The Best of State Awards in Utah was created to recognize outstanding individuals, organizations and businesses in Utah, and in 2004 Alan Cunningham was awarded Best Veterinarian.

As the publisher for Alan Cunningham’s now four books, we felt readers would like to know more about him.

Dr. Alan Cunningham graduated from Brigham Young University with a Bachelor of Science in Animal Science and a Masters Degree in Respiratory Health Care Science. He worked as a respiratory therapist for 20 years. He also graduated from Utah State University with a Ph.D. in physiology and later from Oregon State University with a Doctorate in Veterinary Medicine. He has worked as a veterinarian for 13 years. Dr. Cunningham currently works full time at a nighttime emergency veterinary clinic. In addition, he works part time as a relief veterinarian to help pay for his many causes to encourage the public to better appreciate the importance of the human/animal bond.

Presently Dr. Cunningham is one of twenty world-wide veterinarians selected to participate in the flexible Medical Curriculum for Professionals Program, leading to a Doctor of Medicine Degree at the University of Health Sciences Antigua. This unique program recognizes the significant bond between human and veterinary medicine and emphasizes training doctors toward strengthening that relationship. He is in his final year of medical school.

Dr. Alan Cunningham is a certified pet loss grief counselor. As an emergency veterinarian he recognizes the need for proper counseling and support of people that have lost beloved animal companions due to injury, sickness or euthanasia. The death of a beloved animal companion can be very stressful. And many people feel that they are alone in their grief. Often times their torment is met with the statement "It's just an animal--get over it." When in fact the animal is very much a beloved family member or significant companion. These individuals need to realize that there are other people who feel similar pain with the loss of a dear animal companion, and that other animal lovers are available to candidly share these precious feelings with.

A former horse owner, Margo Ungricht, of Lehi, who lost her beloved equine wrote: "Thank you so much, Alan, for the wonderful way you've helped us through this. I don't think we'd have done anywhere as well if it hadn't been for you." Another pet owner from Provo, Doctor and Lt. Colonel Bob Anderson, stated: "Thanks again for being you and being there with our dog Suessi, my wife Bonnie, and me through our dark night of the soul. You sure scored some big time divine points on the adventure!"

Dr. Cunningham has developed a state pet loss hot line. His main emphasis is to listen. He feels that most people are capable of coming to a healthy resolution but that they just need someone to share their feelings with. Active listening on the counselors part confirms to the grieving pet owner that their feelings are valid and important and that with time they can constructively manage the pain and loss.

He also realizes that many clients feel more comfortable about sharing their feelings of animal companion loss with the veterinary technicians rather than with the doctors. They feel that the technicians are more approachable. As a result, he has trained veterinary technicians in grief counseling. Furthermore, he has lectured students at the Utah Career College Veterinary Student Technician Program in pet loss grief counseling. They also volunteer with him on the pet loss hot line.

Many youth first experience death through the loss of a pet companion. Their grief is very real and sometimes debilitating. Yet counseling for this important area of youth development has not been provided in the school system. Dr. Cunningham visits schools and shares pet loss stories with the students and gives them guidance in the grieving process. He has been asked by the Utah State Education Association (Gail Johnson) to provide pet loss grief counseling manuals for every school in the State of Utah to place in their libraries. He personally compiled, and financed the publishing of the manuals that should hopefully be within every school by the end of the year.

Nadine Quarnberg, at Mountain Ridge Jr. High wrote: "I just wanted to thank you personally for the books that you donated to the school. I have a Poodle that is over seventeen years old and he isn't doing well. I have been trying so hard to know what to do. I love him so much. Receiving these books was like an answer to my prayers." And finally an English teacher at Lehi Junior High shared: "I learned tonight that one of my former students recently lost her dog. I told her mother about your work and book, and she desperately wants to get the information about grief counseling for her daughter. I'm going to give her a copy of the grief paper you gave me, and also one of the books you gave us. It looks like your kindness has spread, Dr. Cunningham."

In addition to the pet loss hot line, grief counseling, and school manuals, Dr. Cunningham has written several books to help people with the loss of animal companions. Initially he wrote Sleeping With Angels: A Veterinarian's Sacred Bond of Animal Companionship. This book generated enough public interest and support that over 4,500 copies were provided to veterinarians at the Western States Veterinary Conference. Many books have been placed with veterinary clinics for clients that have lost animal companions. These books have provided great comfort to many people. Former staff sergeant, Bernie Fox, of San Bernardino, shared: "Thank you so much for the copy of your book Sleeping With Angels. I couldn't put it down. You really have a way with words. I laughed and I cried. It was powerful and only a dog lover could appreciate it. I really enjoyed it -- you're one of the only good guys left."

Internationally famous french horn player, Thomas Bacon, from Houston wrote about the book Sleeping With Angels: "Dr. Cunningham takes us on an autobiographical journey with the animals in his life from four years of age through his ups and downs of veterinary school and into his work as a nighttime emergency veterinarian. In a forthright style he describes the tribulations of his life as a young veterinary student trying to follow both the system and his conscience. A gentle soul, with a level of devotion and love for his patients beyond the call, he regales us with stories about 'One Step' the one legged cockatiel, and tugs at our hearts with the story of his beloved Boston Terrier 'Pug'. This is a great book for all animal lovers, easy to read and hard to put down. I finished it the afternoon that I got it, with warmth in my heart and tears in my eyes. Thank you Dr. Cunningham."

As the publisher we received a call from a lady in Cincinnati who just lost her dog. She was in her eye doctor's office and saw a copy of Sleeping With Angels and read just enough that she wanted her own copy. So she was calling to order. We also put a Book Announcement form in the package about On Angels Wings, after telling her about it. She was desperate to get Sleeping With Angels, she was so grief stricken. The doctor told her the book was a complimentary copy given to him."

As a result of the popularity of Sleeping With Angels many people shared their personal stories of lost animal companions with Dr. Cunningham. He suggested that writing about lost companion animals helps to provide comfort and gives a lasting memorial and tribute to the deceased animal. Consequently enough stories were submitted from across the country to compile two more books entitled On Angels Wings: Personal Stories About the Passing Away of Beloved Animal Companions. This is the sequel book. Included with each story is an artist's drawing of the animal. Dr. Cunningham has produced some of the art work himself but most of it is commissioned to other artists, particularly young artists such as college students that need a chance at publicity and having their work published. The animal portraits are then given to the authors as a memorial to the memory of their beloved animal companion and also as a show of appreciation from Dr. Cunningham for their heartfelt stories. He also uses the animal portraits at art shows as a means to generate public awareness on animal companion death and grief. Interest in his books has been generated in the United States and Europe. Many pet loss support groups use them.

Contributors to On Angels Wings expressed: "Enclosed is my personal story about my beloved Miniature Schnauzer named Bennie." Frances Lampert of California continued: "I hope you will enjoy his story. I want to thank you very much for giving me this opportunity to have Bennie's story published in your next book about pet loss. It will be a wonderful tribute to my Bennie. Just being able to share his special story with all people will be an honor." Another contributor, Leslie Menard, of Seattle, added: "I've been thinking about honoring my little dog, Annie, with a story ever since I lost her and it's taken a while to form the words. Grief is intimate and excruciating and I did not want to tell Annie's story under that cloud. I think the gift of a book of stories to grieving pet owners is a generous and loving idea. Grief by its very nature is a selfish emotion and to write about Annie helped me step outside of my own loss and remember why I love her so much."

Besides the pet loss grief hot line, training veterinarian technicians about grief counseling, teaching youth about pet loss, the art shows, and the books about lost animal companions, Dr. Cunningham has published several articles in national and state veterinary magazines and newsletters. A brief sketch about a dog named Yoshi that he euthanized will be published in The Veterinary Forum, which is a nationally recognized veterinary magazine. He has also contributed ethical columns about animal euthanasia and so called "convenience" euthanasia.

On the human side of euthanasia Dr. Cunningham volunteers as an advocate for the end of life choices organization--a nationally recognized program dedicated to ensuring choice and dignity at the end of human life. In addition he volunteers time to AIDS education and awareness. He recognizes that this worldwide disease has become a silent pandemic and that people have become complacent about it. He also visits with terminal AIDS patients and shares time with them when other loved ones desert them.

Dr. Cunningham also campaigns for a national monument and commemorative postage stamp to be promoted for animals that have served our country as valiant wartime soldiers. With the support of Senator Orrin Hatch, several national leaders such as Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, Senate Armed Services Committee Chairman John Warner, and the Postmaster General have responded. Unfortunately, at this point nothing has been done on a national level. Dr. Cunningham continues to encourage citizens to write to their political leaders in behalf of the dogs of war.

More than 4,000 dogs served in Vietnam. Less than 200 came home. At the end of the war, they were considered equipment and were left behind or euthanized. The dog handlers wanted to bring them home--they owed their lives to the dogs. In May of 2003, as a result of Dr. Cunningham's urging, Governor Mike Leavitt declared that the recent Memorial Day "also be set aside to remember and honor our fallen service animal heroes in Utah." The Tribune also honored the war dogs by printing "the letter of the week" in the Sunday editorial section, which Dr. Cunningham wrote in tribute to the canine war heroes.

Furthermore, the major Utah newspapers have added a weekly "Pet Remembrance" obituary section partially at the request and encouragement of Dr. Cunningham. He also gives community presentations about animal companion loss and the grief process. Moreover, he has written and provided all the veterinary clinics and several major animal shelters in the state with grief information pamphlets to assist and support their clients in the grieving process from the loss of a beloved animal companion.

He realizes that many people will not adopt another animal until they have resolved the loss of a previous pet. Consequently he works with the animal shelters to help them provide information to people that are contemplating adopting an animal but don't feel ready. In addition, he presents continuing education classes about animal companion loss and grief to state veterinarians. Dr. Cunningham donates volunteer service for the people/pet therapy program in Utah. He also sets up display booths, at various civic and veterinary conventions, about the war dogs of Vietnam.

Doug Robinson, award winning Deseret Morning News Columnist and contributor to On Angels Wings, honored Dr. Cunningham in his weekly column entitled: Utahn hog wild about patients. "If there was ever a guy whose heart turns to mush every time he sees an animal in pain it's this guy. When his beloved dog Pug died last year, he wrote a book -- Sleeping With Angels. That generated an outpouring of stories from other people whose animal companions had died, which led to a second book On Angels Wings, a recently released collection of short stories from veterinarians and bereaved pet owners about their own experiences with the loss of an animal friend. This is how passionate he was about the project: He spent more than $40,000 of his money to publish, illustrate and distribute the books. Cunningham recently became one of 20 veterinarians awarded a scholarship to (human) medical school as part of an international program using doctors with a background in animal diseases to treat human patients in third-world countries. 'I couldn't pass it up,' he says. 'I'll do both – I'll always be a vet.'"

Contact Alan: alancpug2002@yahoo.com

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