Losing a beloved family pet

can be just as devastating to a true dog lover like myself as having to say goodbye to an actual family member. Wednesday morning I found my 13-year-old black lab mix Shiloh dead, ending our pet's lengthy battle with cancer and other health issues that canine's must deal with as they grow older. Born on February 23, 1996, in the backyard of our former home on Reverend Swinney Street in West Columbia, Shiloh was one of 10 puppies our dog Licorice delivered. Shiloh was the "pick of the litter" in my viewpoint and, as a result, was the only one of the 10 that we kept to raise ourselves. He was a wonderful companion, loyal family pet, and beautiful little ball of fur who grew into one of the best pets this lifetime animal lover has ever had. My heart was broken on the morning of September 23, 2009, when I realized that Shiloh's life had suddenly ended. In the absence of his mother Licorice, who died a couple years ago at the age of 14, Shiloh had shared our backyard on Gupton Lane for many years with our adopted beagle dog Shasta. It was devastating to witness Shasta lying near Shiloh's lifeless body Wednesday morning, well aware that Shasta's loss of her best friend was even greater than my own. The photo below indicates just how young my sons were when Licorice delivered her litter of puppies over 13 years ago. Brian (in the center holding Shiloh when he was a puppy) is now 27, Bret (at right below) is now 23, and a bespectacled Blake (at left) is now 21. For those of you who know my children and how they appear today, one can easily figure out just how much of these boys' lives their dog Shiloh has been a big part of. Peggy and I grieve over the deaths of each of our family pets with the same sense of great personal loss that we would struggle through when losing a human family member. So if either of us appears to be having a tough time getting through the coming days, forgive us and give us time to adjust to our futures without our beloved pet. Rest in peace, Shiloh. I buried you near your mother Licorice under the big ol' shade tree you always loved to spread out beneath on hot summer days. Your absence from our lives has already been a difficult adjustment. You were truly a special pet, a four-legged buddy I will never forget. I'm glad you are not hurting anymore, for that alone I am thankful, but I'm really gonna miss you, boy!

The photos above and below were taken in 1996 at the neighborhood park on Dance Drive in West Columbia when we still had three of Licorice's puppies. I definitely had my hands full while holding Shiloh and his litter mates when they were a few months old. My oldest son Brian Gupton holds baby Shiloh in the photo above while my younger sons Bret and Blake have a grip on Licorice's other two pups who were given away shortly after these pictures were taken. I can only hope and pray that all of Licorice's puppies that were given away 13 years ago lived long, happy and healthy lives like their brother Shiloh did.

Shiloh was extremely lucky to spend the first eleven years of his life with his mother. They were constant companions in our backyard and now, after Shiloh's life here with us, the family who loved him, came to an end, he is now reunited with his mother Licorice in "doggy heaven." After I informed my wife that Shiloh had died Wednesday morning, Peggy said that our old dog, whose movement of his left front leg had been hampered by the large tumor on his chest region, was now running with ease once again, chasing squirrels in heaven. Our female dog Licorice is pictured in the back of my truck several years ago with her boy Shiloh.

In this photo of my dog Shiloh taken when he was 12 years old, my ol' boy is starting to show how advancing age and living with cancer was beginning to have an affect on him. The inoperable malignancy that limited Shiloh's mobility resulted in a local veterinarian giving him a month to six weeks to live. That was over a year ago. Shiloh was determined he would go out when he was good and ready . . . and he did.