In a previous “Bud’s View” column, I wrote about the emotional stress my wife Bev and I faced each time one of our pets died.

I discussed the heartbreak we experienced when we lost our dogs, Bear and Blue, and our cat, Charcole, in the Aug. 31, 2016 “The Pets That Rescue Us” column.

The following stories were sent in by Lehigh Valley Press readers of “Bud’s View.” This is the first of several columns based on abridged versions of their stories.

“Hi Bud, So good to see and read “Bud’s View” again. We are going to share this one [“The Pets That Rescue Us”] with our friend, Julie. Her husband, Bill, passed away from cancer last October. He was a lot like you in some respects: teacher, outdoorsman, retired, etc.

“It’s been difficult for Julie this past year. She texted us a few days ago to tell us that Jesse, her rescue dog, passed away from liver cancer. So, yes, they rescue animals like Bev and you do.

“We are going to share this article with her because we believe that it will help her with this loss. Since the column appeared, Julie has rescued a black lab she named, Sammy. Although a handful, he is a good companion.

“Take care, Bud, and keep fighting. You have touched many lives during your lifetime, sometimes without your even knowing it.’

- Mary and Paul Wozniak

The following was sent in by Sandy Yoder of Bethlehem:

“Thank you so much for writing the pet article in the Bethlehem Press. I laughed, I cried, and I remembered all the wonderful cats and dogs I’ve had over the years. Our animals have all been rescues, which presents challenges.

“Each time, fortunately, our patience and love overcame the hardships they previously faced.

“I had to put down my Chelsea about two years ago. Chelsea, a black lab mix, was four when we first saw her at the shelter. I remember how her beautiful sad eyes melted my heart.

“She was toy- and food-aggressive and bit my grandson the first day we brought her home. She had a toy and when he went to hug her, she grabbed him. She also bit my husband. About six months later, I reached down to pick up an ice cream lid she was licking. She turned and grabbed my finger.

“I was somewhat amazed biting was still an issue. Chelsea came to me, put her head on my leg, looked up at me and then buried her head between my knees. I patted her on the head, and told her everything was OK. It was the last time she nipped anyone.

“From then on, my grandchildren could take food, toys, etc., right out of her mouth and nothing ever happened again. I knew that was the dog she was meant to be. You never know what a rescue animal has been through and that’s the saddest part.

“Thank you again for your wonderful article. We are all better people because of our pets!”

The following cat stories were sent in by James D. Craig of Allentown:

“Hi, Bud, It is really good to see your column in The Press again. As you might know, cats don’t have owners, they have staff.”

(So true!)

“All of our cats but one were domestic short hair and Burmese mixes. They were all black and rather slim. My wife, Pam, never really liked cats until she met LBJ, Little Black Jerk, who was an independent animal. He often left the house to roam the streets of north Allentown at night. One time he just didn’t return home.

“After our son was born, Pam felt we needed cats again. She brought home a brother and sister, who were named Henry Feengush Pest and Sylvia Slinky Woofenpickel. They ruled our home for many years.

“Sylvia had produced a trio of kittens, one of which we kept. AYS, pronounced “Ace,” for Ain’t You Somethin. AYS lived a long and happy life and died of natural causes under the dining room table.

“One day, Pam visited a pet store where she fell in love with another cat. I’m the son of a veterinarian and would never approve of a cat from a pet store, but Nicholas Clyde Ruprecht moved in.

“Nick was very affectionate and spent a lot of time on my lap. I’ve always claimed that I did not, in fact love, them, but did have a deep respect for them as intelligent animals.

“Nick’s mid to later years were enriched, or perhaps plagued, by the arrival of a black and white “tuxedo” kitten, Maxwell Alexander Woofenpickel, the adopted son of Sylvia. Max was being cared for by a family with two friendly Rottweilers who rolled him across the floor with their tongues.

“We somewhat rescued him and brought him home where he was mildly bullied by Nick. When Max grew larger and heavier, he challenged Nick’s alpha status although we could not say that he really prevailed. Nick and Max shared the house.

“So, from 2010 until 2016, Max was our solo cat, dutifully “writing” our Christmas letters and worrying the local wildlife. He would sit on my lap for the duration of all the NASCAR Cup races.

“On one occasion, we tuned in the ‘Kitten Bowl’ and he sat on the back of a chair and watched with rapt attention for 45 minutes!

“Max died in the kitchen this past June, having been spoiled by us for 18 years.”

Thanks to these readers for sharing their pet stories. Look for more dogs, cats and a guinea pig story next time.

That’s the way we see it!

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&Copy; 2017 Bud Cole