I didn’t mean to hijack another thread so allow me to start a different one here. For those of you who’ve enjoyed and then been heartbroken with the loss of a companion dog, do you have a favorite poem or story about ‘loss’? Care to share?
Warning - This thread may be dangerous to your keypad. Have tissues at the ready.
Allan
http://www.indigo.org/rainbowbridge_ver2.html
The Rainbow Bridge, the best I’ve found.
If dogs don’t go to haven when they die, I want to go wherever they do…
I believe this was from Roy Rogers
There are many excellent poems/stories about this at the ‘rainbowbridge’. You can only read so many, or often just one, before your eyes go misty.
One I especially like,
" Dogs In Heaven?An old man and his dog were walking down this dirt road with fences on both sides, they came to a gate in the fence and looked in, it was nice grassy, woody areas, just what a ‘huntin’ dog and man would like, but, it had a sign saying ‘no trespassing’ so they walked on. They came to a beautiful gate with a person in white robes standing there. “Welcome to Heaven” he said. The old man was happy and started in with his dog following him. The gatekeeper stopped him. “Dogs aren’t allowed, I’m sorry but he can’t come with you.”
“What kind of Heaven won’t allow dogs? If he can’t come in, then I will stay out with him. He’s been my faithful companion all his life, I can’t desert him now.”
“Suit yourself, but I have to warn you, the Devil’s on this road and he’ll try to sweet talk you into his area, he’ll promise you anything, but the dog can’t go there either. If you won’t leave the dog, you’ll spend Eternity on this road.”
So the old man and dog went on. They came to a rundown fence with a gap in it, no gate, just a hole. Another old man was inside. “S’cuse me Sir, my dog and I are getting mighty tired, mind if we come in and sit in the shade for awhile?”
“Of course, there’s some cold water under that tree over there. Make yourselves comfortable”
“You’re sure my dog can come in? The man down the road said dogs weren’t allowed anywhere.”
“Would you come in if you had to leave the dog?”
“No sir, that’s why I didn’t go to Heaven, he said the dog couldn’t come in.
We’ll be spending Eternity on this road, and a glass of cold water and some shade would be mighty fine right about now. But, I won’t come in if my buddy here can’t come too, and that’s final.”
The man smiled a big smile and said “Welcome to Heaven.”
“You mean this is Heaven? Dogs ARE allowed? How come that fellow down the road said they weren’t?”
“That was the Devil and he gets all the people who are willing to give up a life long companion for a comfortable place to stay. They soon find out their mistake, but then it’s too late. The dogs come here, the fickle people stay there. GOD wouldn’t allow dogs to be banned from Heaven. After all, HE created them to be man’s companions in life, why would he separate them in death?”
Author Unknown"
Allan
Her name was Holly and I was allowed to be owned by her at a time in my life when I sorely needed a friend. I worked for a bird dog trainer at the time and she was a prospect and he had great hopes of her being his next champion. She was the daughter of two shooting dog champs and I could only dream of owning a dog like her someday. I was always finding a reason to swing by her kennel just to freshen her water or spend a few minutes stroking her silky ears and gazing in her eyes. We connected and I actually experienced something akin to love sickness when I left her for the day.
One day Jim the owner asked to speak to me before I left for the day and when we sat down he told me that he wanted me to have something to thank me for my dedication to the kennel and the training program. We walked out to the kennels and he he told me to leash up Holly and take her home. I was scared he was playing a joke on me but he said that there will always be one person that can get the best out of a dog and he had been watching how we had bonded and he knew that I was the perfect owner for Holly.
Holly and I spent the next several years working together hunting and the day our union ended nearly killed me. I still compare every dog to her unfairly because she will always be my number one. Hold them till I get there girl…I’m coming.
Thanks for these stories , I am cryin now as i type this, all i can say is that a dog or for some a pet of some kind is the best friend a person can have …you can come home an have had a bad or lousy day be grumpy an usually they will be there to greet you, if you feel sick…they know it an will try to cuddle or comfort you, need someone to listen they are all ears, I have two boxers an they are my kids, i come home they give me a welcome each an every day sometimes multiple times a day if i had to go out for a bit an come home …well their welcome is so full of life an energy i can not describe how they change my mood.since I never had any children to this point they are my kids.
I cannot for the life of me fathom how some folks can desert or hurt or abuse thier animals> My dogs have made me a better person, and i love them both when they go i will be crushed for neither can be replaced they are their own original being. I dread even thinking of this moment it seems that life is way too short for our four legged friends i would gladly give a few years of mine so i could give them a few more years…they deserve it. I love you Madison { Maddie}my sweetpea and I love you Titan my sweet boy.
Tight Wraps & Tight Lines
Rick Wallace
Man, my pup is now 15 years old, gray in the face, slow in pace, cloudy in the eyes…I can’t read this thread. That day will come way too soon. She is a fine old dog.
Steve, I believe you are old enough to remember Roy Rogers and his dog Bullet but probably not Will Rogers, who I believe is responsible for the quotation. I don’t remember Will Rogers either other than ooold film clips.
Dog’s Last Will and Testament
Before humans die, they write their last Will and Testament, give their home and all they have, to those they leave behind.
If with my paws, I could do the same, this is what I’d ask…
To a poor and lonely stray I’d give:
My happy home.
My bowl and cozy bed, soft pillows, and all my toys.
The lap, which I loved so much.
The hand that stroked my fur and the sweet voice which spoke my name.
I’d will to the sad, scared shelter dog, the place I had in my human’s loving heart, of which there seemed no bounds.
So, when I die, please do not say, “I will never have a pet again, for the loss and pain is more than I can stand.”
Instead, go find an unloved dog, one whose life has held no joy or hope and give my place to him.
This is the only thing I can give…
The love I left behind.
Author Unknown
OMG! Just saw this.
http://sphotos.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/p480x480/533001_335265956531576_100001445230685
" fallen soldiers with four legs, IED sniffers, someones boy will come home from a war because of these dogs" By Urban Farmhouse
Folks, all I can say is, ''Why can’t people be as loyal to their pets and other people, as their pets are to them. May God bless all the Pets in our world, John.
I lost both of my female Shelties exactly two weeks apart last year. I loved them dearly and had a hard time with it. I know that both of them are patiently waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge.
Steve
Oh man, I lost my bestest dog almost 4 years ago. Her successor is great, but this just opened up the tear gates. But, I remember Sadie with all my heart and know she is resting at the Rainbow Bridge for me.
Tried to not go to this thread, but had to, to honor Sadie. Marje, my Aussie, just came over and kissed away my tears.
To those who understand, we know we’ll see them again.
Mike
Rudyard Kipling, in spite of his undeserved (in my opinion) reputation as an imperialist, was a lover of dogs and wrote two of the most touching poems about the loss of dogs that I have ever read. The Power of the Dog, with its refrain "Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware, of giving your heart to a dog to tear" and
Four-Feet, a short little three-verse poem:
I have done mostly what most men do,
And pushed it out of my mind;
But I can’t forget, if I wanted to,
Four-Feet trotting behind.
Day after day, the whole day through–
Wherever my road inclined–
Four-Feet said “I am coming with you!”
And trotted along behind.
Now I must go by some other round–
Which I shall never find–
Somewhere that does not carry the sound
Of Four-Feet trotting behind.
?MY LADY?
She was just a wriggling mass of chalky-white and tawny Jell-O; a perpetual motion machine with a terminal case of St.Vitus dance.
Dad yelled out that I should come out to the front porch for a minute. We had discussed the object protruding from his jacket some time hence; but, I was totally unprepared to confront the furry apparition that now peered out from dad?s half zippered jacket. The sinking feeling that one experiences when called upon to ante up the answer to math problem number ten, when one has neglected to proceed past homework?s number seven, was nothing compared to the helplessness that now rooted both feet to a spot one step beyond the front door. Dad gingerly placed his hitch- hiking passenger on the porch and we both watched a sniffing exploration of it?s newfangled world. During a lengthy discussion, dealing with the care and feeding of tiny creatures, our newest family member temporarily disappeared from view. But, a search, looking over the nearest porch rail, revealed a ?watering? of mom?s flowerbed that wouldn?t evoke any words of praise or thanks!
?Remember now, ? dad echoed for the tenth time that day, ?It?s up to you to care for the pup. Your mom and I will help you with any questions you have about your pooch; but, it?ll be your responsibility to feed and look after it.?
?Your pooch?? Funny how those two little words resembled the feelings generated by Christmas Eve, birthdays and ?school?s out? all rolled into one.
With all the fervor a six year old can muster, I received that miniature, squirming, nuzzling ball of fur that dad produced. ?My pup!?
I recall asking dad if my pup was a boy or girl dog and upon being informed ?she? was a girl replied, ?What?ll I name her dad? I only picked out boy names.?
Being temporarily freed while we discussed this ponderous question ?She? promptly vacated the porch again in favor of the nearest tree to leave her ?calling card.?
?Why look at that,? remarked dad, ?she went to the tree instead of messing up the porch. She?s a regular little lady.?
?Lady!? ?That?s what I?ll call her dad; Lady.?
?Dad ? Lady?s in the tub whining for her bath. ?Every Sunday afternoon, if we were home, Lady would go upstairs, promptly at 2:00 o?clock and wait for her ?Halo? shampoo bath. This ritual was repeated every Sunday of her life ? summer, fall, winter or spring. It traces it?s beginnings from the afternoon Lady decided to join an afternoon bath as a full participant as opposed to remaining a mere spectator. The results were disastrously wet; but, thoroughly enjoyed by all concerned, with the possible exception of mom, who inherited the ?pleasant? task of mopping up.
Lady was half Collie ? half German Shepherd; but, retained only the swiftness and dimensions of the Shepherd. To the eye she was pure Collie and genteel. For her size, over a short distance, she was the speediest dog I?ve ever seen. Dad had once remarked that she was way too fast for her own good.
We were inseparable in the truest sense of the word. I always imagined that she owned me rather than the conventional partnership. Our relationship was the most pleasurable, for me at least, on the occasions when, returning from school and rounding the corner still two blocks from home, I?d whistle and she?d react by tearing up the sidewalk at break-neck speed and literally shower me with wet-tongued greetings.
Lady and I shared, for the better part of two years, those intangibles only a boy and his dog are privileged to experience. We were separated by one of those incidents termed fate, for lack of a better plausible explanation , brought about by Lady?s love of the chase.
Our Vermont winter had, only two days prior, lived up to advance billing by precipitating approximately twelve inches of that for which Vermont winters are most famous and skiers wax ecstatic over.
Suppertime was punctuated by playful howls and rapid pursuit as Lady and one of her canine acquaintances gave vent to the joys of romping through the snow and sniping heels in jest.
The thump was audible even though our kitchen was set to the rear of the house. In the next fear-filled seconds, the scene, gladly not witnessed but oft times remembered, flashed before my eyes and was confirmed when dad answered the knock at the front door.
The man was apologetic and offered to replace Lady; but, I could only shake my head in stunned silence.
She lay on the front lawn, near the steps, as though she were asleep. But, I knew this time, any whistling through the lump in my throat and the tears would be in vain.
We said our good-byes, there in the snow, in the same silent way we had shared all the good times because, she wasn?t just a dog, you see, she was ?My Lady.?