Hannah B. Elmore Memorial Site

Dedicated to Cosmo: Cosmo, my handsome shadow, you will remain forever in my heart. Thank you for being there by my side through the good times and the bad times, unconditionally loving me, and for trusting me for the 14 ½ years we spent together. From the time you were a puppy to the last breath you took while in my arms, you were more than just a dog. You were my best friend who brought so much joy into my life, and each moment will be cherished. I miss your presence, I treasure our memories, I will always love you, and I will never forget you all because you were one in a million to me. I wish for you endless happiness at The Rainbow Bridge, and all of my love until we meet again. I love you, Cosmo Collier!!!

Submitted by
Heather Collier Black
Merriam, Kansas

Dear Al-Tom, so very neat;
Affectionate and very sweet.
Loved to sit on Dear Ma’s lap,
Lie by Pa to take a nap.
Love for him just grew and grew,
You could tell he loved us too.
He was just a precious gem.
We will certainly miss him.

Poem by Kenneth Bogue
Submitted by Kenneth and Alma Bogue
Ulysses, Kansas

Bubba, just by his height, really intimidated many people. Add to that the big barrel chest and dark-faced brindle color, he would put a scare in you when he's charging towards you full speed. But most people did not know that it was all show, as he was a sweetie pie in personality and loved to give frequent kisses – often unsuspected ones. He would lick you endlessly if you didn't tell him, "Enough."

As a pup, Bub was a handful, never wanting to be alone. On one occasion he demolished an interior hollow-core door to escape his confinement in one bedroom. A few days later, he completely destroyed the couch after escaping from his kennel after being alone for what he felt was too long. And on the off-chance that the meter reader had forgotten to close the back-yard gate, Bub would be the first one to tell you that it was open by running out his doggie door to the front of the house and sitting in front of the floor to ceiling windows waiting to be noticed.

Later in adolescence, he was known to slip items from the waste can out the doggie door and into the yard somewhere. But to take the cake was the time he actually did "take the cake." Yes, it was a whole cake freshly decorated and ready for a client – out the doggie door and devoured. He left no evidence of his crime except for the frosting covering his face when he came back inside. Still, there was no getting mad at Bub, as he would melt you with the soulful expressions in his eyes.

Bubba was the first dog I had ever met that loved fireworks to – not just tolerate them, but wanting to be in on the action. A sparkler would put him into a trance until it finally became extinguished. For the larger fountains and shells, he had to be physically restrained or he would try to get right upon the flash or boom. He had no fear whatsoever of the fireworks.

His last eight months we spent fighting cancer, making sometimes weekly trips to the teaching hospital at the Kansas State University College of Veterinary Medicine for chemotherapy. The first couple of visits he was very nervous, but subsequent visits he actually looked forward to going and seeing everyone once again. During later trips, Bubba would be trying to calm other patients down while we waited to see our new friends, the staff and students at the hospital. We were lucky to have them there to care for us so especially nice.

Bubba – every one's best friend.

Submitted by Becky, Jennifer and Daniel Brennan, Topeka Kansas

Thank you for being my son. You were the Best little boy in all the land. You rescued me. We rescued each other. We were together in our journey in life. You loved me totally and unconditionally. You know I loved you more than anyone. I felt True Joy, Love, Happiness, and Peace when we were enjoying life together. God gave me the Best gift ever when he gave me you. He gave me the Honor of being your mom. Thank You for letting me be your mom. Having you to Kiss, Hug, and Love was the best thing in my world. You made me smile just thinking of you, just watching you, just by being cute; Being You. Everyone who knew you, Loved You. You were Beautiful in every way. You are irreplaceable. You are missed. You will always be a Huge part of me. You are a Great Loss to this worldly earth, but a Great Gain to Heaven above. As I told you every day, Even if we have to be apart, always know that we will be together again.

I Love You Stanford Simon.

Submitted by Darla Karlin, Shawnee, Kansas

G.W.: You were our first little boy. You were the love of our life. You were our life. The center of it. You taught us how to love totally and unconditionally. You taught us how to step out of the box, and love. We have missed you, and will always miss you. You were the little pioneer to our learning about caregiving and love. Because of you, we loved another little boy, who we otherwise might not have; who became the next love of our life, and a Huge Blessing. Thank You for all of that. You were a gift from God. The day we lost you, Heaven got a Beautiful little boy. It was an Honor and Privilege to take care of you, love you, and be loved by you.

We Will Love You Forever G.W.
Submitted by Paul and Darla Karlin, Hays, Kansas

Sammy Lee's clock: As a puppy, Sammy Lee had the “Zorro” mask features on his sweet face and he was a determined fellow. He was a bossy fellow and always ready to please and learn tricks. He loved performing. He grew up in Missouri and became super dog and a caregiver that performed at the KU Medical Center in Kansas City. He did tricks for the terminally ill patients at KUMC and in the ICU. He had his own badge.

His owner, the late Peggy underwent two liver transplants at KUMC and when she passed away, Sammy was a lost little dog. He refused to eat and he was depressed.

He sought refuge by the grandfather clock down the hall. The ticking of the clock was soothing to him.

At the same time, in Manhattan, Kan., Max the long-haired Dachshund lost his owner to ALS. Max was trained for the wheelchair and a close companion to my late husband. He never left his side.

Max adopted Sammy, along with the grandfather clock and both dogs formed a very close bond. What a buddy system they had. They did everything together and looked out for each other. It was a match made in heaven. Max taught Sammy to eat and he shared his bed with Sammy.

Everything seemed to be as it should be and life went on. Sammy turned 10 years old and then he passed away on Sept. 10, 2013.

We were heartbroken and so sad to see Max looking for his buddy. Max became depressed, and we were worried sick about him.

Then one day I saw something unusual by the grandfather clock and I was amazed. Max had taken Sammy's toys and placed them in the same spot where Sammy used to be. Just one more time Sammy; show me your muscle.

Submitted by Yolande Adair and Larry Pyle, Manhattan, Kan.

Cashee was our 'Big Girl' who had been with us for a little over 20 years. She had been through so much, but we weathered the storms. First she was diabetic, blind, deaf, and succumbed to cancer.

Schatzee showed up on our doorstep one day. We immediately fell for him. He was our 'Big Boy' (all 7 pounds of him) and 'Handsome'. He was with us for 15½ years. He, too, had some uphill battles. He ended up being partially blind, deaf, and arthritic. He said, in the end, you guys have done so much for me, I'm tired and went off. He loved being in the sun.

We miss you both so much and life will never be the same without you two. You will forever be in our hearts and missed. Now you're both together in "Kitty Heaven."

Submitted by Alby and Mai, Los Angeles

Adopted & unconditionally loved on 06.29.09
Gained his angel wings on 12.19.15

We were fortunate to adopt Mr. Flash from an animal rescue group in Dallas, Texas, called EARS (Education & Animal Rescue Society). The rescue group pulled him from a shelter the day before he was to be euthanized. There was a note on his cage that said he was a "runner." From the moment we brought Mr. Flash into our home as a potential foster dog — to see if our other beagle would approve — we knew he was a keeper. He lovingly ran into our big, fenced in back yard and immediately our black and white beagle, Kenna, ran up to him — all the other potential fosters she ran and hid from.

Mr. Flash was always the "star of the show" — he was everyone's friend, didn't know a stranger, loved to snuggle, and considered himself a 30lb lap dog. He had a sparkle in his eyes, loved to go on walks, had an uncontrollable desire to eat and eat anything he could get his chops on! One of his favorite things to do was to go on rides — oh how he loved to sick his head out the window and sniff. When in the vehicle if the window wasn't down you could hear his paw scraping at the window as to hurry up and let the air in! You could see his jowls flapping in the wind, his big beagle ears being whipped around, and most importantly his nose was turned on to everything possible — sniffing until he wore himself out! Just hearing the word "ride" would send him into a frenzy of running through the house, barking, and his tail wagging crazily.

Mr. Flash, prior to live with us, had a tough life. He came from a rough neighborhood and was malnourished. Resilient. He was oh-so resilient and to meet him you would have never suspected he was an abandoned dog. We know that the 6 years he was our fur-child were the best years of his life -- but ironically, he gave us more then we could ever have given him. We were unsure of his age, but his love and zest for life made up everything. Mr. Flash was the type of loyal, loving beagle, who kept things interesting — whether it was digging his way out from under the fence, chasing squirrels and breaking his paw in the process, he could tip over a trash can as soon as you turned your back, or the need to get under every blanket possible in the bed in order to be a vital part of the family — loud snoring included! Mr. Flash was as loyal as they come. You could see his soul in his big, brown eyes. He was oh so loved and loved us back.

Mr. Flash was also a fighter. He fought his entire life — he fought to the very end of his life too. Mr. Flash become very sick at the end of September 2015. We knew that something wasn't quite right. Mr. Flash underwent the gamut of tests and procedures at the KSU Vet School. He fought through the darkest of days -- when he spent 5 days in ICU — he fought through being weak -- he fought through his medications what were taking a toll on his body. He fought long enough to see the birth of our son. We know he was looking out for our son and wanted to make sure he was ok. The day our son was born — about a month after being in ICU — he ran and wagged his tail — something he hadn't done since before he became so sick. It was his way of showing us how hard he fought and how happy he was to see a new family member. Those are the moments we cherish. Those are the moments we hold onto in our hearts and memories. Those are now the moments we look back to and validate just how hard Mr. Flash fought through his sickness towards the end of his life. Mr. Flash is the epitome of what we as human strive to be — loyal and dedicated to family.

Mr. Flash fought so hard in the last month he was with us. We could see his body getting tired. The toll of his hard fought battles in life, his diagnosed auto-immune disease and the harsh medications that went along with it, started to make his body increasingly tired. Mr. Flash never once showed us he was hurting — never once did we see or hear him wince in pain. We though, however, could see him starting to struggle. He was struggling with the daily activities that made him who he was. As a family, it broke our hearts to see it. We knew that it would be selfish to continue to let him live his life in a way that wasn't reflective of the Mr. Flash we know and love so dearly. We made the heart-wrenching decision to help he gain his angel wings. Our last night together we were all able to sleep in the same room, he was able to go on a walk, and take a ride -- smelling the fresh air.

During those final moments that Mr. Flash breathed his breath of life — we were able to be there with him -- we were able to hug, kiss, caress his fur, and pray that he gains his freedom — that he's able to run free and rest in the sun. He was calm and peaceful — as if to let us know — everything is going to be OK. He rested peacefully and heaven gained another loyal and loveable dog. We know that it wasn't a good-bye, but an until-we-see-you-again moment.

It is true that dogs teach us about love and life. Mr. Flash did that for us and so much more. While our hearts ache that he is no longer with us — his spirit, memory, and zest for life will always be in our hearts and memories. We find peace and a sense of calmness knowing that the sunshine that is cast down upon us is a message from Mr. Flash letting us know that he's always with us and looking over us.

We love and miss you sweet fur-boy. We know you are free! Keep wagging your tail, chasing squirrels, and know that we miss and love you and think about you every single day.

Until we see you again sweet Mr. Flash!
With all the love in the world,
Dad, Mom, Kipton, & Kenna Jo

Bailey, our beautiful girl, you came into our lives December 2008 weighing only 2.6 lbs. Even though you were so little yet so mighty, we had no idea how much you were going to change our lives when you joined our family. And today, nine years later, we still look for you in the house thinking you're right there next to us, eager to give us kisses, and scratching our lower leg(s) for attention. Since you were our very first girl, you opened our hearts as they had never been opened before. And because of you, mommy and daddy are forever changed for the better. And when you left, you took a piece of us with you. Although our hearts hurt badly and we miss you terribly, we are so thankful for the wonderful and memorable years we shared with you. We love you, Bailey B.

Submitted by Darryl & Heather Black
Merriam, KS

Frida came from a shelter, having been found on the streets without a chip or a collar. I had reluctantly visited the shelter in June 2009, only two weeks after saying goodbye to my 16-year-old cocker spaniel. Although she wouldn’t yet respond to that name, Frida (named after the artist) was being kept in a pen with other dogs much larger that dominated their small space. But when I entered the room, this petite, brown-eyed blonde made her way to the front of the pen, placed her front paws on the ledge, and our eyes locked. In that instant, Frida--who had been lost--found me.

She was greeted at home by Oscar, also a Chihuahua mix but smaller in stature. Ever easy-going, 2-year-old Oscar quickly adapted to his new housemate as Frida established ground rules, that she was to be in charge. Frida was fearless when it came to other canines. Once in the lobby of a vet clinic, she had to be reined in when she attempted to take on a Great Dane that was standing obediently next to its owner. Off-lease, however, she was totally at ease with other dogs.

Frida had a nose and an appetite for Kleenex, a fetish if you will. Any time one would be mistakenly tossed into a wastebasket, the next morning the wastebasket would be tipped over and shredded tissue was everywhere. Sometimes, she didn’t wait for the cover of darkness; if I heard the familiar sound of a wastebasket being tipped, I knew where to go. Shamelessly, she would saunter away.

Over the years, my other pet names for Frida were Baby Girl, Princess, Baby Cakes, “Freedee” and a favorite, Cupcake, for the white swirl that crowned her forehead (like Hostess cupcakes I remembered as a kid).

Frida stoically endured significant health issues in her 12 short years. The first major diagnosis was a herniated disc, later came painful, slow-to-heal torn ACLs, and finally Cushing’s Disease. Throughout all this, she remained a gentle, affectionate companion, who was never aggressive and never once growled or snapped at a human.

We took walks daily, and every day was a new adventure for her to explore new sights and smells. Frida was my buddy, my companion, my confidante. Many times, when we would stop to rest at a park bench, I would pour my soul out to her.

Even though Frida was put to rest in June 2020, now six months since, my heart aches for her as much as ever. Her gaze into my eyes, her cuddle next to me in the recliner, stretching out by my legs in bed at night. Frida is gone, and a piece of me is gone, too.

I put away Frida’s favorite toys, the rope chew, the heart-shaped, “Princess” pillow, her Christmas wiener-dog plush; they were hers, never to be shared with another.

Frida loved to dig in the backyard and had an appetite for small rocks. Several days after her passing, as I walked to the mailbox, I spotted a small heart-shaped pebble on the sidewalk. I treasure it as a parting gift to me.

I miss our talks, I miss our walks, I miss my Baby Girl. There will never be another Frida.

Verne Ediger
Las Cruces, New Mexico

My Mother had passed away, leaving my wheel chair bound Dad living with me. I also recently had to put down one of my four dogs and wasn’t really planning on another pet anytime soon. A good friend of mine ran into a women at the pet store buying supplies. She runs a small rescue
and had just picked up an 8 year old Pekingese from the shelter and needed a foster. I agreed to take him until a forever home was found. The first night, my Dad was trying to pet him but could not reach him. Since the dog was so short and his wheel chair was so high, I put the dog on his
lap and went down the hall for a few minutes. When I came back, I found them both sound asleep together. I knew at that moment, he was already in his forever home.

I was not crazy about the name the rescue had given him. So since I didn’t know who he had been before, I named him after two of the older men I cared for at the Long Term Care Facilit y where I worked. There was Howard 1, Howard 2 and he became Howard 3. They had hats with their
designation and Howard 3 had a sweater. For the next four years he visited weekly to the residents and spread love. In a gentle way he touched many people, that no one else could.

I retired in 2020 after 40 years at Motion Picture Television Fund in Woodland Hills, but continued on a volunteer basis. After a short break due to Covid, Howard was allowed to return. We would go almost every week for a few days. He visited in a stroller, so he was at the right height for wheel chairs resident to be able to pet him. But, he usually ended up on a lap or a bed. There were residents who knew his name, but never remembered mine. Howard 3 had a bad stroke in in early January 2023, and I had to let him go. As I held him, I whispered thanks to him, for all the love and joy he brought to so many over the six years.

I was blessed to have him in my family and the MPTF family.

With love,
Lizz Samuel