My name is Pimms. I am an Old English Sheepdog who passed away at 13 years and 11 months on Sept. 8, 2026.
These are my thoughts, written by my peeps, Jacquie and John (J&J).
I was born on Oct. 8, 2012, near San Diego. I forgot how many brothers and sisters I had, but I do remember my nickname was Teddy. In December of that year, I flew all by myself to Newark Airport. Talk about being scared. Think about it: I’m 3 months old, leaving the comfort of the only family I knew.
On the drive from Newark to my new home in Avalon, nestled against Jacquie, I knew I was going to be happy. The two of them started talking. I knew they were talking about me, especially when Jacquie said, “This is Pimms.” Right then and there, I thought, “This is my forever family.”
I think I was a good little pup growing up. If J&J think otherwise, don’t say anything – this story is from me. Unfortunately, in my fourth year, I developed some sort of nasal fungal infection that nearly killed me. I’m not going to go into all the details. One thing was certain: I was determined not to leave J&J after just four years together.
For the next nine-plus years, the three of us shared so many wonderful moments. We just clicked, and those memories still mean so much to me. Here are a few that stand out:
J&J would go to the gym every morning around 5:30. An hour later, they’d pick me up for our trip to Wawa. They’d have coffee, and I’d sit upright in the back seat (easy to do without a tail), with the window down, enjoying my egg bite. Then we’d explore the streets of Avalon, just the three of us.
I could really turn on the charm. One of my favorite tricks was when they’d say “Smile,” and I literally did. Don’t ask how I did it, but it was always good for some extra biscuits.
I could always get a smile out of them, especially when they’d come home and there I was, stretched out in the bathtub, trying to stay cool and look cool at the same time.
Sometimes on our early morning walks, we’d come to a wide-open front lawn. They’d let me off the leash and say “Crazy Dog!” and I’d run like a banshee until my tongue was hanging out. They’d laugh, and I’d have the time of my life.
I loved Friday nights. That was pizza night in our household. J&J always thought they had the best part of the pizza, but give me the crust anytime, and I’m in doggie heaven.
Occasionally, I’d get a bad case of the runs. I must admit, I couldn’t tell the difference between a floor and a carpet. I don’t have to tell you where most of it went. When Jacquie would clean up the mess, she never scolded me. She’d only say, “It’s all right, Pimmsy.”
The last couple of years were tough. I initially lost strength in my left rear leg, putting so much stress on the right leg that I couldn’t get myself up and needed J&J to help me. Once I was up, I could walk OK and might occasionally stumble, but they were always there. By the way, the bark I’d make when you helped me was more frustration on my part. I wanted so much to be “Crazy Dog” again.
The last 12 hours were tough for all of us. I don’t know what happened to me. One minute I was fine, and then I couldn’t stand up, even when I was helped. I didn’t want water, and worst of all, I couldn’t even give either of you a lick. You both stayed up all night with me.
When I gave those weird barks, that was my way of saying, “I’m going, guys, and I’m going to miss you as much as I know you’ll miss me.”
Just remember, all three of us are joined at the hip, and in time, we will be again.
Your “Crazy Dog,”
-Pimms