About a year ago, a friend of ours told us that one of her dogs had been diagnosed with lymphoma. Greg went through months of treatment but sadly, he recently lost his battle against cancer. He was only four years old.
We’ve created Greg’s Fund to help homeless dogs whose medical conditions may require expensive veterinary care. If you would like to contribute, please visit our Donate Page. Make sure to check the box “I would like to designate this donation to a specific fund”, and select “Greg’s Fund.” If you are paying by check, please write “Greg’s Fund” on the memo line.
Here is Greg’s story as told by the person who loved him best:
“You know the Everything Bagel? Greg was my Everything Beagle.
“I fell for Greg the minute I saw him. He was surrendered to the animal shelter where I work in the Spring of 2013. There was something about him that hit me just in the first few moments of meeting him, something that needed him to be part of my life. Was it his big head? Maybe. All I know is I saw a little Beagle boy with a big head and a great big heart, and I was instantly drawn to him. I decided to foster him and even though Greg suffered from separation anxiety, he was an easy-going kid. He quickly adapted to his new surroundings and family, which included my two other dogs.
“But on Tuesday, Apr. 21, 2015, my little boy left me and went to Heaven. As much as we never feel prepared and even though I knew it was inevitable, it was fast – and I wasn’t anywhere near ready for his departure.
“Greg was diagnosed in October 2014. My initial reaction was lots and lots of tears and confusion. He was only four years old; how could this be happening? He’s one of the sweetest and nicest dogs I’d ever met. Why him? The phrase, “But he’s just a little boy” continued to run through my head for the months that followed.
“Chemotherapy within a novel clinical trial appeared to be his best chance of lengthening his life, with only a minimal chance of compromising his daily quality. I’d researched his disease online, and the sad reality that there was no cure kicked me in the chest. But it was also that news that made me fall in love with him harder and really appreciate him. It’s a funny little disease—besides abnormally large lymph nodes, he did not show one sign of being sick. This continued to be the case up until five days before he passed. I consider it a blessing that Greg had seven pain-free months. But it was hard for me to connect to the reality of the situation because he seemed to be a very healthy dog.
“He was never cranky or scared as we drove in the early morning to our frequent vet appointments. It was like a typical day for him – an opportunity to sniff and bark, and meet new people. His bravery and serenity always surprised and impressed me.
“Greg refused to let anything about the situation ruin his day. He seemed to always have that “bring it on” attitude. He’d always been an amiable and goofy little guy, looking forward to our walks when he’d bark at other dogs, the sky, the ground, invisible creatures … He seemed to touch every person he encountered. Most found his incessant “Beagle talking” humorous (sadly, my neighbors in my apartment complex did not share that sentiment), and he was always happy to say hello to someone, giving licks and a smile.
He was friendly, affectionate and an expert cuddler. I’ll never forget how he’d circle so that he could be as close to me as possible in the crook of my arm, and then rest his head on my chest. It was a great way to fall asleep! Most of the time, I’d hear a content moan once he got completely settled in this postion.
“Two years of “Gregness” will never be enough for me. I would welcome back the separation anxiety, the skin allergies, neighbors’ complaints and enormous vet bills just to have my little boy back in my arms. But then again, I am pretty lucky to have had about 730 days of pure joy being his mom.”
In memory of Greg: July 7, 2010 – April 21, 2015
