Pet Stories and Memories
"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened." - Anatole France
Below are a few stories and memories about beloved animals by Veterinary Teaching Hospital clients and CVM friends. Through each remembrance runs the common thread of connection between human and animal, and the unique ways these special friends find a place in our hearts.
Many thanks to everyone who has kindly submitted items for this page.
Ratso
Your friends miss you.
I’m not talking about just your furry friends
here at home; I’m talking human friends. You have
more friends than any cat I have known. Of course
there are your neighborhood friends, all the people
who visited and 
knew you for years. And your California
friends who would come to visit, especially
the one who would sneak you into bed with her.
And there is ‘your’ little girl from Virginia, the one
who carried you around and watched movies with
you. She misses you terribly.
But most of all, there are all your CVM friends.
They’re the ones I still see in the Veterinary Teaching
Hospital, in the hallways, and every time I see
one of your friends, I think of you. You know the
ones I mean; there’s just no end to these friends
who cared for you, treated you, worried about you,
hugged you, loved you. From the front desk to the
back wards, your friends are everywhere.
There are your Internal Medicine friends. So
many doctors, residents, and interns worked so
hard to diagnose your problems. And the DVM
students, my how you helped to train them. Each
new student on your case had quite a lesson in
case review (your medical records are thicker than
Raleigh’s phone book) and learned how to write
such detailed discharge summaries! You always
made them think. And there are those friends
who would always find an appointment when you
needed help. And of course, those wonderful clinical
technicians. They always made your trips to see the
doctors a good time. So many laps you sat on, so
many chairs you took over. I once saw a technician
working on her computer standing up, because
you had her chair and she didn’t want to bother
you. Whether you were having a good day or bad,
they always made you feel like the king. Now those
friends really miss you.
But it’s not just the Internal Medicine crew, no,
you have friends everywhere in the hospital. There
are the folks in the labs, in Radiology, and the
great people in Pharmacy. There’s the Neurology
group, and of course, the Oncology friends.
Radiation treatment for three weeks sounded like
such a tough course of treatment, but you know,
having your friends there to care for you, well,
you got through it just fine. Those special heating
pads were pretty nifty, and helped to brighten your
spirits. And how many cats ever get a party after
finishing radiation treatments? So many of your
friends showed up to celebrate.
Of all the friends we made these last couple
of years, I think the ones I learned most about
were the veterinary technicians in the treatment
wards. The day wards, Intensive Care Unit, the
Intermediate Care Ward — you spent a fair bit
of time in those places. You always had everything
you needed, and then some. Enough blankets to
keep you snug (my priority), and someone always
looking after you, making sure medically you were
doing okay. But there was also all the holding, and
the carrying around, the singing to you, the kisses
on your nose and shaved forehead. In your time of
need, in your stays in the hospital, those friends
made your days a little brighter, your stay more like
a vacation. And your friends became my friends.
Friends that were there for me as well as for you.
Friends who cried with me when you were gone.
For awhile I couldn’t walk through the hospital,
I couldn’t bear to see all those friends. Time has
eased the grief, and I can walk down the halls
again. Your friends are still there. Some have moved
on, and students have graduated and are great
doctors somewhere else. But most of your friends
are still there, and they still miss you, like I do.
They have new patients, new challenges, new victories,
and even some defeats. But they carry on, they
take care of all the creatures on their watch. Their
hearts break sometimes, but they are all there with
the same shared purpose of healing, of caring.
Like I said Ratso, I never knew a cat with so
many friends. And I am grateful for them all. — Greta Johansen
Greta Johansen is Assistant Dean for Business and Finance at the College of Veterinary Medicine. Ratso, who is shown above on the cover of the Winter 2009 edition of CVM Magazine, touched all those who helped him in his long battle with complications from diabetes, arthritis, kidney disease, and a brain tumor.
Cassidy
Cassidy was found aimlessly wandering the
streets in the Bronx, New York some three years
ago. He was picked up and taken to a local animal
shelter where he was examined and found to be in
sad shape. Not only was he missing his right hind
leg, he was virtually hairless and some 30 pounds
underweight.
I suppose Cassidy’s story may have ended there;
not too many people want to rescue a stray with
such issues. Fate, however, had something else in
store for this German shepherd mix with the great
disposition. I learned of Cassidy’s plight through a
pet segment in a morning television program and
I have to admit that there were tears in my eyes
at the end of the report. I knew I had to help. I
contacted the shelter, adopted Cassidy, and brought
him home to become a member of the Posovsky
household joining me, my wife Susan, and Bella,
our Rhodesian Ridgeback.
We cared for Cassidy. He regained his hair, his
weight went back up to 75 pounds, and he became
fast friends with Bella. Cassidy and Bella played
well together and tug-of-war was a favorite game.
Cassidy would tire easily, however, and I noticed
that Bella, who is bigger and stronger with her four
legs, would let the three-legged Cassidy win. I decided
to look into the prospect of getting Cassidy a
new limb to further improve the quality of his life.
All roads in my search seemed to lead to the NC
State University College of Veterinary Medicine and
to Dr. Denis Marcellin-Little, an associate professor
of orthopedics and an orthopedic surgeon in the
Veterinary Teaching Hospital. After a lengthy phone
conversation with Dr. Marcellin-Little, we drove to
Raleigh for Cassidy to be examined and for us to
learn what might be done for our three-legged dog.
Susan and I appreciated Dr. Marcellin-Little’s
“surgery as a last resort” philosophy. He measured
Cassidy and then during a two-year period
fabricated and tried to fit Cassidy with not one but
two removable prosthetic limbs that attached to his
truncated right hind leg by straps or sleeves. The
active Cassidy was able to slip out of both of them.
It was then that Dr. Marcellin-Little talked with
us about Cassidy being an appropriate candidate
for a new surgical approach involving osseointegration,
a cutting-edge technology through which the
living bone fuses with a prosthesis. We agreed to
the surgery, understanding that Cassidy would be
the first dog to undergo the procedure. Dr. Marcellin-
Little and the faculty and students at the NC
State College of Engineering then began creating
models and the actual prosthetic limb. Finally,
after a year of waiting, we received the telephone
call that informed us Cassidy’s team was ready. We
could schedule the surgery.
The staff at the CVM Veterinary Teaching Hospital
was as excited as we were. Cassidy became a media
celebrity and patiently met with newspaper and
television reporters who wanted to see him before
his big surgery. Cassidy has one quirk and I told
Dr. Marcellin-Little and the VTH staff that he could
not be left in a cage. He hates it. They made every
accommodation to keep him in ICU after surgery,
surrounded by caring people 24/7.
The concern and the care given to Cassidy was
extremely comforting to me and Susan. While we
knew this procedure had never been done on a dog,
Dr. Marcellin-Little assured us that this was not an
experiment. During that year of waiting he worked
with engineers to develop the perfect limb for Cassidy.
Computed tomography scans helped engineers
create three-dimensional computer images and
then the physical models.
Dr. Marcellin-Little used the models to practice
the procedure, making minute adjustments to
ensure a perfect fit before the actual surgery. He
rehearsed this particular surgery numerous times
on models of Cassidy’s leg, to assure that all would
go well.
Dr. Marcellin-Little’s professional skill and the
compassion he shows for animals has been very
comforting to us. Cassidy is a family member, of
course, and holds a special place in our hearts,
particularly when I think of his journey from the
streets of the Bronx.
I hope Cassidy’s story can let others know of the great work being accomplished at North Carolina State University’s Veterinary Teaching Hospital. This important work deserves to be supported for in helping our four-legged family members who we all love so much, we enhance our own lives. — Steve Posovsky
Read about Cassidy's story in Scientific American
Lucy
The first time Lucy and I went to the Veterinary
Teaching Hospital (VTH) at the College of Veterinary
Medicine, we felt so warmly welcomed as if we were
visiting good friends. Little did we know that we
really were meeting people who would become as
dear to us as our hometown friends.
Lucy and I first met at my local Dairy Queen 13
years ago; she was searching for food, I was there
to buy my favorite milkshake. This lovable mixed
breed Lab became my most expensive DQ visit ever,
but then she’s been the best companion a person
could have. Whenever friends would visit, Lucy was
certain that their sole purpose in being there was
to pet her and make sure she was the
center of their attention. Her self-confidence was never more evident
than during our appointments at
the VTH. She became known as the
biggest flirt there!
Our connection to the VTH began
one day in October 2006. Lucy
was having trouble breathing at
night and her veterinarian, Dr. Kay
Lawrence of Lake Country Animal
Hospital, referred her to the VTH. I
was pleased that she was seen the
next day on an emergency basis by
the hospital’s cardiology group. While the news
that Dr. Allison Adams, a cardiology resident, gave
us was not especially good, her professionalism and
compassion softened the impact of the situation
and gave us both hope and support. Technician
Anne Meyer was so kind and nurturing to Lucy and
me that she actually made the visit pleasant. They
were genuinely interested in my life and I just knew
that I had found the perfect place for both Lucy
and me.
After a series of blood tests and an echocardiogram,
we learned that Lucy had mitral valve
regurgitation, atrial fibrillation, and an adrenal
tumor. Dr. Adams, however, assured me that my
girl had some quality time left. Lucy was put on the
appropriate medications and, within a few weeks,
her heart rate stabilized within a normal range.
Sometimes intense pet parents require as much
attention as their pet does and that was certainly
the case with me. I needed to understand the
problems and treatment, but I also needed a little
nurturing. Dr. Adams’s manner included just the
right amount of support to accompany her professionalism
and straightforward answers, which I
will always appreciate. She was determined to keep
Lucy comfortable and to ensure that I was well informed.
In addition to offering clear and thorough
explanations of Lucy’s treatment, she provided me
with the heart-to-heart conversations I needed.
Once we left the VTH, Dr. Adams or one of her
colleagues called frequently to check on Lucy and
me. No detail was too small for the VTH staff.
One day, when Lucy’s digoxin blood level had to
be checked, I was uncertain if she had ingested
her pills since she had left most of her breakfast
uneaten. Dr. Andrea Lantis, another cardiology
resident, happily sorted through the leftover food
to determine if Lucy had consumed the pills or not.
On another occasion, when I was paying the bill
after a day of testing, I looked around and didn’t
see Lucy. I soon discovered her outside with Dr.
Adams, enjoying a walk up and down the sidewalk
with her special vet. Time after time, I’ve found
that CVM hospital services extend well beyond the
diagnosis and treatment of canine health problems.
The VTH staff treats and loves the whole dog and
the dog’s whole family!
Dr. Adams and the VTH staff touched my life in
so many ways, both professionally and personally.
When I heard about the Coat of Excellence
Program, I knew it would be the perfect way to
honor Dr. Adams for her exceptional care of Lucy
and me. Dr. Adams’s natural warmth and superb
professionalism put both of us at ease during a
challenging time.
My human family has a history of serious cardiac
problems, and we’ve always sought the best cardiac
care available. I wanted nothing less for Lucy.
The care she received was so excellent that I’ve
requested that the VTH accept me as a patient, too!
The Veterinary Teaching Hospital gave Lucy’s heart
the best care in the world, and, in the process, gave
my heart exactly what it needed: more quality time
with my friend and lots and lots of love. - Coley James
Alex
There is this wonderful place called the NC State College of Veterinary Medicine (CVM) where faculty, staff and students provide compassion, support and a true love for all animals. Man's best friend and the CVM are what kept me together. Alex will have a brick in honor of his name placed onto a walkway that enters the hospital. A piece of Alex will be here forever. Please go to the website www.cvm.ncsu.edu click on Friends & Donors 
then Search for a Brick. Honoree's name is Alex Ramey. Thank you all for your compassion & support in getting me through my time of need. I'm still crying a lot but I know in my heart it was the right choice. I know a lot of people but you guys are truly good quality people!! Here's the eulogy:
Look not where I was
For I am not there
My spirit is free
I am everywhere
In the air that you breathe
In the sounds that you hear
Don't cry for me mom
My spirit is near
I'll watch for you
From the other side
I'll be the one running
New friends by my side
Smile at my memory
Remember in your heart
This isn't the end
It's a brand new start
Thank you all for your cards, it really means a lot to me.
Love,
ME
- Karen Ramey of Holly Springs, NC
Buck and Molly
Our Flat Coat Retriever, Buck, was diagnosed with cancer on New Year's Eve of 1997. At the time I was a homebuilder in the Raleigh area and had just built a home for Dr. Sylvester Price, oncologist at the NC State College of Veterinary Medicine. Dr. Mike Bagley of Clayton Animal Hospital, our local vet, called Dr. Price who arranged to immediately see Buck at the College. At first the outlook was guarded with maybe an 8 month life expectancy, however, with Buck's incredible will to live and the kind and compassionate care he received at the College of Veterinary Medicine, he lived another 2 1/2 years. Buck was 15 when he died, an age unheard of for a Flat Coat. His quality of life was fantastic and he enjoyed coming to see his friends Petra and Franchette for treatments.
Fast forward to the present, our Golden Retriever, Molly, needed an MRI to diagnose a hip problem and once again we were referred to the College of Veterinary Medicine by Dr. Bagley. While waiting in the lobby, I started talking to a kind gentleman in a red coat. I asked him what his job was and he said he was a volunteer and just tried to help anyone who needed it while they were clients of the Vet School. I asked how I could become a volunteer and he introduced me to Valerie Ball, Director of Client Services. Today I volunteer regularly at the Vet School and I enjoy every hour. My wife, Betty, and I are very thankful that a facility like the NC State College of Veterinary Medicine is available for the care of our dogs. I tell my friends I have gone from President of a homebuilding company to Chief pooper scooper and I couldn't be happier! - Randolph Reid
Chance
Only two years old, Chance weighs 1300 pounds and stands taller than me. His size doesn’t matter, though – he is still a baby, my baby, and gives me a kiss every morning when I feed him breakfast and every night when I see him to bed. It’s a special moment for this “Gentle Giant” and me, especially since every day he lives to kiss me is truly a miracle.
When Chance, the first horse I had ever owned from birth, was five months old, my veterinarian, Dr. Younger sent him to the NC State College of Veterinary Medicine's Large Animal Hospital due to severe colic symptoms, warning me that Chance might not survive the trip. The veterinarians there discovered he had a deformity in his intestines. Throughout the treatment and recovery, Dr. Sheats and Dr. Gerard carefully reviewed all possible options, candidly discussing with me the risks and benefits of each. Surgery was the best option. Over the last year and a half, Chance has had three major surgeries. The hospital became Chance’s second home, with him spending nearly as much time there as in his own barn. Thanks to the efforts and love of Dr. Sheats, Dr. Gerard, and the rest of the hospital staff, however, Chance is now happy and at home with me, where he belongs, sharing the kisses that he deserves.
I established the “A Chance to Learn” Equine Scholarship because I wanted to share my joy in my horse Chance’s full recovery. Chance never would have survived until his 1st birthday without the experience and support of dedicated and talented veterinarians, researchers, surgeons, veterinary assistants and students. I hope that as a fourth year student, the recipient will bring the same passion and skill to the future endeavors of the North Carolina State Equine Program.
I treasure every moment I spend with Chance. Each night when I put him to bed, Chance and I reflect on his emotional roller coaster ride in life. I am so very thankful for what Chance has taught me and in return Chance and I want to share in teaching others.
There are not enough words to describe the greatness of the North Carolina State Equine Teaching Hospital. I realize that in the scheme of things this is a very small scholarship, but it has two of the biggest hearts behind it!
Forever thankful for a chance to live,
- Chance and Robin Freeman
Sunshine Bittner
Sunshine rescued me in July, 2002, three months after my husband, John, had died of pancreatic cancer. She burrowed herself deeply into my heart and soul, giving me such joy, love, and companionship. She moved with me 3200 miles across the country to Idaho in 2005 in the back seat of my car, resting her sweet head on the back cushion so she could track my parents, following us in their car. She loved hiking with the "Hiker Chix" and Mountain West Outdoor Club in the Boise foothills, Bogus Basin trails and Sun Valley trails. Most of all, she made me laugh, with her impish grin, one-ear-up-one-ear-down, let's play bows, tag around the dining table, joyish running and turning on a dime, and doggie angels in the snow. Her sweet and gentle spirit will be in my spirit forever. 2001-2007. Gift of God and John. - Denise Bittner View Sunshine's Brick Page
Target
He was under a car in a busy parking lot, scared and hungry, about a year old and not neutered yet. Ironic that it was at a Target store since his beautiful tabby pattern, called classic tabby, formed a perfect bull's eye on each side. We think he was abandoned there, it's hard to imagine because he was such a sweet cat, how lucky I was to find him. Target loved company and would greet them, and drool when you scratched his head and chin. He had to leave us much too soon following complications from a urinary blockage, we didn't want him to suffer any longer. I hope his story will remind people how important it is to spay and neuter their pets to prevent so many homeless pets, and that I see you again someday, Target!
- Jane Thompson View Target's Brick Page
BJ Rozier
BJ came into our lives in 1999, not long after losing our dog, Butch. Thus, the name BJ - Butch, Jr. He quickly lived up to the name and brought us so much of the joy Butch had brought us many years prior. The runt of the litter, BJ was a little palm-sized ball of snow-white fluff. He was so tiny, it looked like you had been picking cotton and were carrying a small bundle of it when you held him. His little curls hung around his eyes like a shaggy surfer haircut - something that would define him throughout his life and drive my mother to keep him groomed with decorative bows for every season, as if he were just another one of us girls.
Speaking of seasons, at Christmas, I would often sit at the piano and play carols, BJ howling along. We could never tell if he was trying to sing with us or if the cacophony hurt his tiny ears. Probably the latter, as none of us are extremely talented in this department. He would often retreat to his special spot under the Christmas tree to get some peace away from all the hustle and bustle of the holidays. If we couldn't find him for a while, all we had to do was look there and there he'd be, looking up at us with eyes sparkling like the lights of the tree.
From the very day we got him, BJ immediately took a liking to my dad. In a house full of girls, he and my dad were the only boys. As they say, a dog is a "MAN's best friend" so I guess the rest of us couldn't fault him for that. He would follow my dad everywhere. Down to the mailbox to get the paper, outside sunning himself in the driveway as my dad mowed the lawn, for a quick ride in the car to the store to pick up something we forgot for dinner, and sleeping on my dad's pillow on his side of the bed, where he simply blended in with the white, downy sheets. BJ loved to sit on the back of the couch as my dad watched TV and would use my dad as a stepping stool to get up there. My dad wouldn't even flinch as he stepped all over his clothes. One of his favorite things to do was clean my dad's ears by licking them to death. He never did that to the rest of us, just dad. I guess you could say my dad didn't necessarily need to use q-tips anymore thanks to BJ. Ha. In the summertime, BJ would come right along with us to the lake as my dad drove the boat, BJ sitting with him at the helm because he loved the wind in his face. This was where he seemed truly happy. I will always remember him this way.
We recently lost BJ to a brain tumor. It affected my dad the most, so I write this in honor of him for Father's Day and, of course, in memory of my precious little B, as I like to call him. We love you, we will never forget you, and I know you are coasting in your own little doggie boat up in heaven, with your face in the wind...
- In honor of Jim Rozier and in memory of BJ