Gizmo was an adventurous dog. Acquiring this habit from his predecessor, he loved to escape from the back yard and roam the neighborhood. Unfortunately for his human, he would stay away for hours and refuse to be caught. He had numerous escapes from death with Acquired Hemolic Anemia, but finally succumbed to Addison’s Disease at home, lying next to his human. He is greatly missed.

Amber was a loving horse who would always come to you, but who also had a mind of her own. She didn't enjoy being ridden, but if I insisted she was the most patient and gentle horse you could ever find. I could put anyone on her and she would know how good a rider they were and go according to each rider's ability. I could trust her with anyone and never had to worry that she would buck them off. It just was not her nature. She was also a very good mother. She had three foals and would take each one around the pasture to show them everything so they would not get into trouble. Even when her children got older, she remained the alpha horse in all things; they always let her be the boss. When she died they were by her side and made sure everything was done right by her. They loved her very much, as did I. Donations have been made in memory of a very special horse by Arlene Stolte, and Chris and Kathy Morris.

I had Freeway for more than 14 years and his love helped save my life when I was suffering from necrotic faciatis, a condition that has a 95% mortality rate. For an entire month, the home nurses would come to give me IV antibiotic treatments and change the surgical dressings. Every time, Freeway would watch them like a hawk to make sure they did everything right. He would get up on my lap and stay there during the entire procedure, keeping me company and giving me love when I needed it most. Although he suffered from allergies for the final 12 years of his life, he never lost his spirit.He will always be my friend. Donations made by his good friends Arlene Stolte, and Chris and Kathy Morris.

Ralph was very special. He was the boss of the household and his internal clock kept track of when it was time to do something and what that something was, especially when it was time for meds or biscuits. If you tried to ignore him, he would bark and stare untill you gave in.  He was also my 55-pound lapdog. He thought he was small, like his “brothers” Freeway and Miles, and was convinced that my lap belonged to him. When he made up his mind that he wanted to be in my lap, there he was and there he stayed—for hours, or until I had to get up. It was hysterical to watch him work his way into this privileged position. He is greatly missed.
In loving memory by Jean Arnold.