Posted on 02/01/2013 7:41:21 PM PST by onyx
(Excerpt) Read more at washingtonpost.com ...
Barney we barely knew ye
That’s a real sweet poem; I’m glad you posted it! I like the one about the Rainbow Bridge, too! There is another one somewhere I’ve seen and it’s called “Paws In Heaven”, or something like that? There is one for a cat too, and it’s really sweet, too! If anyone has it, could they post it, or send it to me?
I know how you feel.
I have pretty much cut myself off from news. I can’t bear to watch it.
Granted, I stopped watching television back around 1996 or so, stopped reading papers and magazines years ago, have never had cable, so it is easier for me to do that than it sounds.
Just a couple of days ago I learn they are putting women in front line combat.
Then, my alarm radio goes off the next day, and the first thing I hear when I wake up is a cheerful liberal DJ exclaiming “Well, the Boy Scouts have finally entered the 21st Century...”
Sigh.
I know how you feel.
Thanks for the memories Mr. President. Barney was such a delight to watch. I know they're mourning tonight. R. I. P. Barney Bush. :(
I loved Barney’s Whitehouse Christmas decoration tour videos. RIP Barney.
I wish President Bush had a little more of Barney's "I don't give a rat's ass if he IS a reporter and that I'm on film...I'm havin' fingers for lunch" attitude.
I wonder what kind of dog Allen West has.
RIP Barney, you’ll make lots of friends at the Rainbow Bridge.
We have a little cairn terrier who is almost black and he looks a lot like Barney. He’s also 12 years old. Our furry little boy brings us such joy. He is so loyal that when my husband is out of town, he mopes at the top of the stairs looking out the window, waiting to see if my husband is coming. I have to coax him to bed.
I loved Barney, and I loved that the Bushes doted on him. Biting that reporter was just icing on the cake!
I love your idea and sweet sentiment.
Thanks very much.
Yep! Biting the Reuter’s guy made all of us love forever!
Aw, I remember that sweet picture too.
President Bush loved Barney so much and Barney loved him with all his heart too.
We lost our Pug, Jack last October. He was 17.
I miss him every day.
Don't be too sad for Barney, he passed away in Texas. What more can a dog want, other than to be loved? Barney was that, and he also had some great people in his life.
Yes, our dogs (and cats), are family members.
I’m so sorry. Playing with Barney now!
“Beau”
by Jimmy Stewart
He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn’t come at all.
When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.
Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn’t drag.
He’d dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I’d grab him, he’d turn and bite me.
He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn’t read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.
He set the house on fire
But the story’s long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.
On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.
He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.
But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.
We are early-to-bedders at our house—
I guess I’m the first to retire.
And as I’d leave the room he’d look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.
He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
And I’d give him one for a while.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I’d fish it out with a smile.
And before very long
He’d tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner
In no time at all.
And there were nights when I’d feel him
Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I’d pat his head.
And there were nights when I’d feel this stare
And I’d wake up and he’d be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I’d feel him sigh
and I think I know the reason why.
He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he’d be glad to have me near.
And now he’s dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.
And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he’s not there.
Oh, how I wish that wasn’t so,
I’ll always love a dog named Beau.
Buddy's life would have been hard to document, what with all the zigzagging through traffic and car horns and screeching brakes.
If Bo could upload a video of his daily life to YouTube, I'm guessing it would reveal many hours of isolation, some genuine affection from SS agents or others outside the family, and a lot of hollering from Mad Moo for someone to "get this stinking beast outta here".
Thanks very much.
I had a beautiful drawing with the verse on it, that I sent to my granddaughter when our Pug, Jack died at age 17, last year. It had several dogs and St. Francis featured and she loved it. Jack had “raised” her. He was at her side all the time Pugs are so sweet with babies and children.
I don’t know where I “saved it.”
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