About: The Last Gift – Paint Kindness, Gentleness, Love.™

Trigger Warning: This page will not be for everyone.

Losing a dear companion is incredibly painful; some of you may wonder why in the world anyone would want to document it in a painting. It is one of life’s most bittersweet moments; there is nothing so well loved as in the moment when you realize it is about to be gone forever.

Anyone who has been through this experience will tell you how important and precious it was that they were with their friend as they passed over. Vets will tell you the animal looks for its “person” until the very last moment. Being with them to the end is the last gift we give to them.

Those who adopt seniors or hospice animals know that this moment will come and resolve to make it as loving and peaceful as possible for an animal whose life may have been anything but. Those who keep their animals until the very end do as well. And yes, it comes at a cost.

We all live with the hope and certainty that one day, on the other side, we will be united with all those we loved and lost, our animals included. Until then, we mourn their loss from our lives and remember them.

This page is a tribute to “The Last Gift” which contains both great pain and great hope.

Please understand that I have not edited these stories; some are quite long and the formatting on the page suffers. However, I believe it to be a worthwhile tradeoff.

“Jen and Finley”

Finley, my “soul dog”

On May 27, 2024 at 9:45 a.m. surrounded with lots of love, in my arms and in his backyard, my sweet boy, Finley took his final breath. He was more than just a dog. He was my best friend, my companion of 12.5 years and my everything. The bond we shared was immeasurable.

Finley was born on December 1, 2011 to a backyard breeder and came to live with me on February 10, 2012.

Finley loved me unconditionally and it was just me and him through it all – life, heartbreaks, losses and great times and adventures. He was known about town, especially as the dog who had his head out the sunroof while cruising everywhere we went.

Finley was diagnosed with Cushing’s Disease in the last couple of years and unfortunately, his back legs declined rapidly in May 2024 after many efforts and vet visits. He even had a holistic vet and received acupuncture often. I did my best to save him but time took his old, worn body.

I will spend the rest of my life missing him and loving him. Being his mommy was the greatest gift I have ever had.

n the years with Finley, I became more of an animal advocate than I already was and together, we saved so many cats and helped do what we could to save abandoned and lost dogs. My passion for rescue grew strong and my mission became to speak against breeding/puppy mills, etc and the importance of spay/neuter, adopting, fostering and rescuing vs. supporting breeding.

“Joe and Yil”

“Eyes are a key point of any painting of a dog. But when I started this painting I immediately realized that the light was leaving Yil’s eyes; the story here wasn’t about her. It was about the pain Joe was feeling as he let her go. His face was where I needed to concentrate; the pain in his face was the story I was painting.

I spent a good deal of the time in or near tears as I painted this one; anyone who has lost their companion can relate. Many people who saw it in person had the same reaction.

This painting means even more now, as Joe, too, is gone.

I am sure Yil was there to greet him along with the many other dogs he loved and animals he saved.

Anyone who knew Joe will never forget him. Until we meet again, dear friend…” Laurie P

“Zeke

one of the few little breeds I’m not known for rescuing, preferring the border collies, labs, all bigger breeds.

But this guy instantly maneuvered his way to the depths of my soul. A shadow puppy. Always had to be glued to me. Slept so close to me at night, he was more than a pillow but an extension of my body.

He was ancient, nearly toothless, in kidney failure, dumped like he was an old sandwich wrapper with no value to the ones he devoted his entire life to. And I was thrilled, blessed, lucky, and privileged to share the rest of his short life with him.

Everyone loved him. All the monster dogs who fought to lay beside him (and me), everyone that met him. He would literally scream with joy when I’d walk through the front door from running errands, insisting he be the first one I’d smooch.

A small (mighty), unassuming (easy) gift this world didn’t deserve, whose time was too short.

I still tear up thinking of this day in the painting. Zekester was so loved and so special that my friends wanted to be part of his celebration of life. For the first time ever, I was simply too anguished

to hold one of my biggest pieces of my heart to help him over. I honestly wanted nothing more at that time than to go with him. So he was held by another who loved him.When he was at peace, is when this photo, was revealed. I knew he could no longer feel this heartbreak that confiscated me. Sometimes it’s just too hard for me to “be strong” in these moments.

The last thing I want one of my kiddos to feel, is the grief and hurt that moment has impacted me.

What you see in this painting, is me at my most vulnerable state. I can look at this, and every moment of the day revisits me.

Zeke was a gift I did not deserve so I am so thankful he chose me to spend the rest of his life with. He still sleeps with me too. These paintings hang over my bed with the other “moments” captured by Laurie Pappas, a gift from God that flows from her fingertips, into your very soul.”

Dona H.

“I wasn’t expecting to say goodbye to Jak that day. A couple of days before, Jak started having some difficulties…he had great trouble trying to get up and was wobbly. I called the vet and they said bring him in; they could find nothing wrong…I thought maybe xray but no..I.took him home. I had a photo shoot scheduled with my local doggie food bakery store also that week and the picture for the painting I am sending is of that day…he turned around and kissed me.

But, I had him back again to the vet; after this visit, we could see it was his spleen and he had cancer. I could have taken him home that day and gone through the same routine of him filling with blood in his tummy and then his body absorbing it back again, but I couldn’t do that to him…He was only 13…I wasn’t expecting to say goodbye to Jak that day or for this to be my last photo of us. ” Sue M.

The photograph, taken by our beautiful friend Linda, then turned into the most incredible painting by Laurie, encapsulates the rescue, more than anything I could put into words. Those of you that have followed GHSDR for awhile, like 2016 when Stuey came into our hearts, know what this dog meant to me. To the rescue. To those lucky enough to have met him. He was, quite simply, my heartbeat and still is to this day. As well as our vet, Blake, who Stuey loved beyond measure. He came with a myriad of issues, none of them good. Long story short, Stuey had a surgery on a ruptured tumor. Did we want to do surgery on a dog so unstable-nope. Was there a choice? Nope. Stuey had the surgery, but suffered a seizure during his recovery and just remained in a sort of fugue state. For four days, he’d spend his days with Blake, at his feet, in the clinic, and I’d bring him home every night. We wanted eyes on him 24/7. On that fourth day, Blake made that suggestion none of us wants to hear, and I declined, and wanted to keep trying. That night as I lay with my baby boy, praying, crying, screaming for him to come back to us, he opened his eyes one last time, looked into my soul, and took his last breath. I’ve never been the same and never will. Something just broke inside me, and in honor of this courageous dog, the rescue path became hospice/special needs/dying seniors. With a heavy emphasis on the border collie breed. Since that day, every single dog I’ve rescued, has been in honor, and in memory, of my greatest dog, Stuey. Love you always Stuey Magoo, and cannot wait to see you again

Dona, H.

“Beau was found in the middle of a field starving and in poor health. Probably about a 12 or 13 year old Catahoula mix. The local dog pound checked for a chip and actually found one! The chip was traced to a woman who had him as a puppy when she was attending college. She gave him away when he was still very young and that was the last time she saw him. The original owner was told if she didn’t come get him he would be put to sleep. Now a mature adult working Mom with several children and dogs living in a suburb she put out on social media she needed someone to come get him. My husband and I went and picked him up and brought him to our country home. He was an old timer but so are we so we figured it would be a good fit. The heart wants what

the heart wants.

He just wanted a sofa to sleep on and be loved and cared for so that is what we did.

My two wee dogs fell in love with him and he was the sweetest dog I have ever had. We fattened up him and got him medicine for his ailments. We gave him that sofa and warm blankets and good food. He took on the role of ranch security and walked the perimeter of our fenced property making sure the deer and coyotes knew he was in charge now. We all fell in love. We only had him about 11 months when he passed away. Lack of proper food and medical care for God knows how many years finally took its toll on his big old creaky body. This brings me to the second part of this tale:

True story: We woke up at 4:30 one morning to check on Beau and when my husband and I walked into the living room I could not believe my eyes. The room was strange and full of white fog although we could see Beau sitting up with thin strings of orangish-red electric lights flashing softly around him. Next to him was a lion cub laying at his side with a steady gaze as he looked at us! I told my husband, Oh My God, Beau is transitioning to the other side and we are witnessing it! This lion cub had come to guide him home. For just a moment we were overwhelmed with the peacefulness and tranquility in the room. My heart stilled to see how calm and peaceful Beau was and oh so brave. We gently stepped out of the living room and headed back to bed. And then I woke up.

Don was standing over me and said honey he’s gone…… He died peacefully in his sleep laying in his ‘spot’ in the living room where he used to hold court with our wee dogs Minnie and Hobo. Warm and safe and loved.” Liz M.