In Loving Memory of Tyler

We adopted Tyler (a.k.a. “Cake” because he was so sweet) in August, 1999. He was a young fellow, about 1 or 1 1/2 years of age. He’d had a pretty rough life in that short time, left to die he had pneumonia and heartworms when Ann Rutledge went to rescue him in Tyler, Texas. The Blankenships, his foster parents, nursed him back to a healthy pup. That’s when we entered his life and gave him his forever home. We had 11 wonderful years with him. We gave him lots of love, his own doggie door and a big back yard to play in. In return he gave us lots of love, kisses, snuggles, laughter, and more love.

He loved to play ball, and sometimes he’d drop it at my feet, and other times he’d make me chase him for it. He also had a basketball we called Big Orange. He loved to attack it, and it was fun watching him try to wrap his mouth around it. He chased it all over the yard. Another favorite toy was his “flippy.” It was a large braided piece of yarn he liked to chew on. He also liked to flip it in the air and catch it. He went through several flippies over the years. In the summer he liked to attack the water sprinkler. He’d run and jump and bite at the water. He was so much fun to watch, a real character. He always made us smile.

He was a very sensitive and intuitive dog. If Scott or I were sick, he’s come and lay beside us draping his head over a leg or ankle and snuggle close as if to say, “I know you don’t feel good, but I’m here to make you feel better.” That was Cake, sweet and loving.

He also loved his walks. Every night we went for a walk, usually between 8 and 9 PM. If we got engrossed in a TV show, Tyler would place himself between us and the TV to let us know that it was time for his walk. When we were younger, we’d walk all over the neighborhood. As we got older, the walks got shorter. The last couple of years Tyler developed arthritis in his hips that turned into dysplasia. Even though his back legs were giving out on him, right up to the last day he always wanted his walk.

Tyler went over the Rainbow Bridge on Monday, April 5, 2010. He’s no longer in pain. I like to think of him gamboling in a meadow, attacking Big Orange or flipping his flippy, and having a good time. We miss him very much; but I know the good and fun memories of him will overwrite the pain of his loss. In our book, he’s the best Dalmatian ever.

In loving memory,
Scott & Karen Whitfield