Posted on 08/07/2003 2:28:58 PM PDT by FreepForever
My 15 years old Shih-tzu, Gigi, died today after a well fought battle with nature. No apparent sickness, just failing due to old age.
I bought her, no, she adopted me 15 years ago at a pet shop. I reached inside the cage and she's the one who came forward to lick my hand. That magic moment started our 15 years commitment in which we have never failed each other. I hadn’t got a clue the trouble involved in taking care of a long hair breed then. Since then, we went through a lot of ups and downs, her large brown eyes had seen the best and worst of my times. We joined the June 4th Tiananmen Massacre protest march in Hong Kong in 1989. She was only 7 months old then and had energetically finished the march like every brave citizen though I carried her on my shoulder some of the time. Kids called her the democracy dog.
She was a “one-man dog” and refused to leave me out of her sight for more than a few minutes. I had to carry her around in a back-pack, especially in those “no dogs allowed” places. That made me a “one-dog man” too. She had taught me that there is no other unconditional love like this. I was hospitalized once and my relative had a bad time convincing her to eat and rest for two days and had to return her ASAP. She had created her own share of troubles like every other pets, like chewing on my valuable books. But, when looking back, these are the fun of having a furry pal like her.
On one New Year’s day 5 or 6 years ago, we went fishing. When we were finished and ready to leave, I was shocked to find a fishing line dangling from the corner of her mouth and she was making a gargling sound in pain. Obviously, some careless folks had left baits and hooks on the shore. We called and rushed her to the RSPCA immediately. By 8:30 pm, thanks to the excellent people there (it was New Year’s day), the vet (who came back after receiving my emergency call) managed to cut and remove the hook with her superb surgical skill. Today, I am still keeping that fishing hook as a souvenir.
When she was getting old and cannot walk long distance. I took her on bike rides and have made a special rear-basket-seat for her. She was my passenger on our numerous bike rides. We will stop by the lawn beside the mountain trail where we took a breather. I brought her water and snacks too but she always wanted a bite of my sandwich. She liked to play on the lawn, although it took me an hour to remove those grass seeds from her fur. The lawn will be her burial site, her rainbow bridge. And, if I still have the heart to cycle again, I have to cycle alone from now on...
When she was struggling on her sick bed, Charlie the cat (6 years old) who look to Gigi both as a mother and a companion was beside her affectionately. He seems to understand what is going on. And if you think it is worth while to say a little pray for Gigi, I would deeply appreciate the kind thought. Thanks your reading this. I am running out of tissues...
The Rainbow Bridge
There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth. It is called "The Rainbow Bridge" because of its many colors. Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge, there is a land of meadows, hills, and valleys with lush green grass. When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this place. There is always food and water and warm Spring weather. Those old and frail animals are young again. Those who have been maimed are made whole again. They play all day with each other. But there is only one thing missing. They are not with their special person who loved them on earth. So, each day, they run and play until the day comes when one suddenly stops playing and looks up. The nose twitches, the ears are up, the eyes are staring, and this one runs from the group. You have been seen. When you and your special friend meet, you take him or her in your arms and embrace. Your face is kissed again and again. You look once more into the eyes of your trusting pet. Then, you cross the Rainbow Bridge together, never again to be separated. (unknown author)
This was a summer of loss for me... Losing my two old dogs within a month of each other. We were together 16 years... click my profile to see them.
MISSING OUR DOGS
Old Men miss many dogs.
They only live a dozen years,if that,
And by the time you are sixty, there are several
The names of which evoke remembering smiles.
You see them in your mind,heads cocked and seated.
You see them by your bed, or in the rain,
Or sleeping by the fire by nights
And always dying.
They are remembered like departed children
Though they gave vastly more than ever they took,
And finally you're seeing dogs that look like them.
They pass you in the street but never turn
Although it seems they should,their faces so familiar.
Old men miss many dogs.
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