Thanks for the Dance - Tributes/Condolences

Do not weep...

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow;
I am the sun on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awake in morning’s hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight;
I am the stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

~Author Mary Frye


http://www.hunt101.com/showphoto.php?photo=488445

Posted in tribute to my beloved Little John whom I lost to cancer on February 13, 2007. He was my guardian, protector and best friend to man and dog.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ErinsEdge

How can anyone have a dry eye after reading those tributes. I have a puppy I have to PTS tomorrow. I have never had to face this. They tell me even if he has surgery, he will probably still be in pain for the rest of his life and that's not fair to him. He's a good puppy, an affectionate puppy, and loves to run and play and retrieve and his feathers. When you pick him up and hold him and he relaxes he quivers and you hear little whines and I think he is in pain now. I have gotten 2 second opinions and they all agree from personal experiences in trying to fix them. Although it's very sad to lose our older dogs, it will be hard to do also.

The Last Battle
If it should be that I grow frail and weak,
And pain should keep me from my sleep,
then you must do what must be done
For this, the last battle, can't be won.

You will be sad, I understand,
Don't let the grief then stay your hand,
For this day more than all the rest
Your love and friendship stand the test.

We've had so many happy years,
What is to come can hold no fears.
You'd not want me to suffer so;
When the time comes, please let me go.

Take me where my needs they'll tend
And stay with me, if you can, to the end.
Hold me firm and speak to me
Until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time, you will see,
It is a kindness you do for me.
Although my tail its last was waved,
From pain and suffering I've been saved.

Don't grieve that it should be you,
Who must decide this thing to do,
We've been so close, we two, these years;
Don't let your heart hold any tears.

Smile, for we walked together for a little while.

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We had to put our Brittany down last weekend (Sunday-Easter)... his old heart was failing him. I think this poem here - reminds me so much of him... it's been a tough week. ErinsEdge - I'll be saying a little prayer for you tomorrow as you take your little guy in....

GODS PICK OF THE LITTER

There you were all alone, the last of the litter, the others are gone.

It took only a minute for anyone to see, there’s no doubt, you’d be going home with me.

A hasty decision some may say, deep in my heart I said “no way”.

At eight weeks old we started to train, even in the bitter cold or the pouring down rain.

Looking in your eyes you never seem to complain, I saw something special, I couldn’t explain.

The days went fast you learned with ease, I never saw a dog so eager to please.

You’re a pleasure to watch that statement is true, for your desire to hunt comes from deep inside you.

You’re my companion, my best friend, It will remain that way to the bitter end.

Though I dread that day, when the man up stairs, will take you away.

I may morn or may even cry, for I know this is it, the final good bye.

I’ll hold my head up and try not to be blue, for I know that God needs a hunting dog too.


Ron Prince

"I am your dog, and I have a little something I'd like to whisper in your ear.

I know that you humans lead busy lives. Some have to work, some have
children to raise.

It always seems like you are running here and there, often much too fast,
often never noticing the truly grand things in life.

Look down at me now, while you sit there at your computer.

See the way my dark brown eyes look at yours? They are slightly cloudy now.
That comes with age. The gray hairs are beginning to ring my soft muzzle.

You smile at me; I see love in your eyes. What do you see in mine?
Do you see a spirit? A soul inside, who loves you as no other could in the
world?

A spirit that would forgive all trespasses of prior wrong doing for just a
simple moment of your time?

That is all I ask. To slow down, if even for a few minutes to be with me.
So many times you have been saddened by the words you read on that screen,
of other of my kind, passing. Sometimes we die young and oh so quickly,
sometimes so suddenly it wrenches your heart out of your throat.

Sometimes, we age so slowly before your eyes that you may not even seem to
know until the very end, when we look at you with grizzled muzzles and
cataract clouded eyes.

Still the love is always there, even when we must take that long sleep,
to run free in a distant land.

I may not be here tomorrow; I may not be here next week.

Someday you will shed the water from your eyes, that humans have when
deep grief fills their souls, and you will be angry at yourself that
you did not have just "One more day" with me. Because I love you so,
your sorrow touches my spirit and grieves me.

We have NOW, together. So come, sit down here next to me on the floor,
and look deep into my eyes.

What do you see? If you look hard and deep enough we will talk, you and I,
heart to heart.

Come to me not as "alpha" or as "trainer" or even "Mom or Dad,"
come to me as a living soul and stroke my fur and let us look deep
into one another's eyes, and talk.

I may tell you something about the fun of chasing a tennis ball,
or I may tell you something profound about myself, or even life in general.

You decided to have me in your life because you wanted a soul to
share such things with. Someone very different from you, and here I am.

I am a dog, but I am alive. I feel emotion, I feel physical senses, and
I can revel in the differences of our spirits and souls.

I do not think of you as a "Dog on two feet" -- I know what you are.
You are human, in all your quirkiness, and I love you still.

Now, come sit with me, on the floor. Enter my world, and let
time slow down if only for 15 minutes.

Look deep into my eyes, and whisper to my ears.

Speak with your heart, with your joy and I will know your true self.

We may not have tomorrow, and life is oh so very short."

Author Unknown

The Best Place to Bury a Dog

We are thinking now of a dog
whose coat was flame in the sunshine and who,
so far as we are aware,
never entertained a mean or unworthy thought.
This dog is buried beneath a cherry tree,
under four feet of garden loam,
and at its proper season the cherry tree
strews petals on the green lawn of his grave.
Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple,
or any flowering shrub of the garden,
is an excellent place to bury a dog.
Beneath such trees, such shrubs,
he slept in the drowsy summer,
or gnawed at a flavored bone,
or lifted his head to challenge
some strange intruder.
These are good places, in life or in death.
Yet it is a small matter,
and it touches sentiment
more than anything else.
For if the dog be well remembered,
if sometimes he leaps through
your dreams actual as in life,
eyes kindling, questing,
asking, laughing, begging,
it matters not at all where that
dog sleeps and at last.
On a hill where the wind is unrebuked,
and the trees are roaring,
or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood,
or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land,
where most exhilarating cattle graze.
It is all one to the dog, and all one to you,
and nothing is gained, and nothing is lost -
if memory lives.
But there is one best place to bury a dog.
One place that is best of all.

"If you bury him in this spot, he will
come to you when you call -
come to you over the grim, dim frontier
of death, and down the well-remembered
path, and to your side again.

" And though you call a dozen living
dogs to heel, they shall not growl at
him, nor resent his coming,
for he belongs there.

" People may scoff at you, who see
no lightest blade of grass bent by his
footfall, who hear no whimper, people
who may never really have had a dog.
Smile at them, for you shall know
something that is hidden from them,
and which is well worth the knowing.

" The one best place to bury a good
dog is in the heart of his master."

By Ben Hur Lampman
from the Portland Oregonian Sept. 11, 1925
[AKA "If A Dog Be Well Remembered"]
[AKA "Where TO Bury A Dog"]

The Eternal Whistler

It is the eternal whistler
Who goes whistling up the sky
And at his heels are the weary dogs
That have come to him to die,
He whistles them over the far off clouds
And up to the Golden Gate
And then he whistles a softer note,
While they sit and they pant and they wait.
Then quickly he whistles a shriller blast
As slowly the gate swings wide
And when nobody's looking, St. Peter winks
Then hustles them all inside.

Author Unknown

Not a poem or a verse, but a friend of mine responded to a man who was pondering getting another retriever after the loss of one, "Our labs wouldn't want us to be without a lab because they want us happy."

I've been trying to post this for a while but every time I try my computer screen gets all blurry...

Dogs should be our teachers....

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa, and their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on.

Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why." Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.

He said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life-- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?" The six-year-old continued, "Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long."

Live simply.

Love generously.

Care deeply.

Speak kindly.

Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like:

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

Take naps.

Stretch before rising.

Run, romp, and play daily.

Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.

On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.

When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Stop when you have had enough.

Be loyal. Never pretend to be something you're not.

If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

Moving this back to the first page by request.

Vicky

IMHO, this should be a permanent sticky.....

But that's just me....;-)

kg