The Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... Author Unknown.

Cleo, Waddle Queen 2017
She was the Queen. She was Waddle Queen in 2017, but before that, she was Cleopatra, our little princess. There are so many memories as she traveled through life with us. First, she taught us how to be parents. When we first met her, she would run around biting everyone, too anxious to know what to do with herself. Within weeks, CJ was her greatest comfort (and her his) as it stayed through the rest of her long doggy life (but of course, too short for us). Next, she taught Stanley how to be a good dog. And she was a great one. In her youth, all she wanted was to be a good dog. She never peed in the house (except a few odd times when she “framed” Stanley, and then when she was old and couldn’t help it). She was the perfect basset duo with Stanley. She was the best columnist dog ever with her Dear Cleo column in the GGBR Newsletter for nearly ten years. She was CJ’s muse for the beautiful song, “Cleo.” She was the perfect, gentlest big sister to the human baby Max. As he grew older, she taught him to be gentle with dogs as she developed arthritis. She was a surrogate mommy to baby Jeffrey, and she taught him how to be a good boy, too. She was always perfect for a snuggle, and she knew how to tell us how happy she was to be loved with her soft purr when she was petted. Once, when we got stranded on a deserted highway and had to wait 2 hours for AAA, she purred with happiness just because she loved being all together as a family. Her sweetness was palpable. She was an Alvarez family favorite — even Grandma Irma, who was never a dog person, loved her for her sweetness. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body. As she aged, we saw how she had life all figured out. She had no worries. She knew who she was. She knew all she wanted in life. (Affection, a comfy duvet and neck pillow, proximity to CJ, sniffing the air, napping on our porch, and delicious meat.) She was CJ’s soulmate, but also the perfect dog and my daughter. She was born in Douglasville, Georgia, just like CJ. She loved us, and we loved her more than I can say. Cleo passed away in Sept 2025, at the wonderful age of 16. May her memory be a blessing. Laura and CJ

Betsy

We adopted Betsy at the end of 2011. My new husband and I had recently moved to Monterey for work. I've always loved hounds, but I also believe in adoption. I saw Betsy (then called Bessie) and fell in love. A few weeks later, I drove to Sacramento and picked her up. We were all in love immediately. Betsy was the sweetest, most well-behaved, wonderful animal I have ever kept. And she was the most beautiful basset hound I have ever seen. She loved sleeping in the sun, cuddling, hiking on the trail, or running at the beach, and chicken. We had a wonderful, if eventful, life together, and we tried to provide her with the absolute best care in our ability. She had a good, long, happy life in some of the most beautiful places in the world. Unfortunately, we had to move a lot, and Betsy came with us everywhere we went. After two amazing years on the beaches and mountains of Central California and summer trips to Colorado, she traveled up to the Olympic Peninsula before moving across the Pacific to Oahu. We spent a year on the beaches and mountains of the island, and welcomed our first baby. Betsy was always so gentle and patient with everyone, including our infants and toddlers. In 2015, we had to move back to the mainland to Florida. There, she loved living in a big multigenerational house with a backyard where she could lay in the sun to her heart's content. She had lots of attention and neighborhood walks. In 2016, we moved to my husband's home country, Monaco. Betsy came along, but unfortunately, she was miserable in Monaco. At that point, I made an extremely hard decision for Betsy's welfare that broke my heart, even though it was the best thing for her. After a couple of years, we moved Betsy back to my parents' big house in Florida. She already knew it well, and everyone loved her there. My sister's basset had died earlier that year, and she agreed to care for Betsy. Through another twist of events, my sister has remained living with my mom since then. So, for the last six years, Betsy has had the most comfortable, stable life in her advanced age. My mom and sister have taken care of her devotedly. Betsy has enjoyed her big yard with lots of sunshine, living with two adults who work from home and spending her days wandering in and out as much as she likes. She eventually developed glaucoma, rapidly losing her first eye 3 to 4 years ago. They tried to save her second eye with surgery and medications, but eventually, it also failed. She had been completely blind for the last two years or more and almost deaf for a year or so at least. But she still enjoyed her life and continued to take walks around the neighborhood with her unfailing sense of smell. Our whole family loved her, and she will be sadly missed by us all when we visit Grandma again. She lived a good, long life full of love, and I appreciate the opportunity to have Betsy in my life.

Bandhu (formerly known as Olaf)
Bandhu, a friend, a connection, the one who looked after me while all along I thought I was the one looking after him. He was the perfect combination of sweetness and gentleness and courage and bravery. With him I experienced wholesome and dynamic growth, a lesson of endurance and flexibility. He came to me in 2014 as the most fearful dog I had ever met. Slowly he warmed up to me and others, and every day with him brought me more awareness and gratitude. He lived for almost 11 years, but his personality was still blossoming, always so eager to belong and to show his appreciation for the life he got to live. He was chosen to be Garnatxa's dog, but first she became his dog (to show him the lay of the land) and later he became Cora's dog. The same way Bandhu used to follow Garnatxa everywhere (even sharing the same bed sometimes), he became attached to Cora and didn't leave her alone, always curious and generous with her, her playmates, and all the dog contraptions she created for him. His huge paws, his ballerina feet, his exceptionally long body, his smile with dimples... That would have been enough to make anyone fall in love with him, but there was much more: the way he looked at us with growing trust; the intelligence with which he learned all the tricks, names and words dispensing with any training, just by copying Garnatxa and by listening to human conversation; the ecstasy he felt by scrubbing his body against us, the sofa, the bushes and the base of his favorite palm tree in the backyard; the blissful growling he uttered every single time he lied down; the space he occupied in the whole house; the space he occupied in my life, holding the fort during the most difficult years I have ever lived. Over time, it was easy to forget about that fearful behavior from 2014 and all I could see was a Presence Master, soaking it all in or "watching his Netflix" - as Cora used to call his walks. Bandhu taught me to be present until the end and beyond. Our last days together were of pure love and connection - telepathy even. He showed me that love can be easy and uncomplicated. Now it's time for someone else to be the dog and keep going with the Presence. And I will gladly accept the role, even if these are some big shoes to fill. Or should I say paws? Bandhu beat the odds by surviving lymphoma treatments for three years, with strength and admirable quality of life, until it was finally time for his body to rest last January 25th. My two furry babies are together now and must be barking, howling, running and dancing in circles, giving a stellar performance, just the way they used to do at sunset time in the backyard or in the snow.--Izabel M, 09Feb2024

Puppers
Puppers came to us from Golden Gate Basset Rescue at 12 years of age after her owner had passed away. She still had plenty of life left in her and was ready for more adventures! Puppers was a delightful if sometimes ornery companion to us for the next two years. We appreciate the time that we were able to spend with her and the joy that she shared with us. She was an excellent walker, a good cuddler, an energetic greeter, and all around a good dog. In her last year of life she struggled with several health problems but never let them get her down. Her mood was positive to the last. We miss you Puppers.