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Posted on 01/20/2008 12:43:48 PM PST by Jim Robinson
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Good Grief!!!
The YELLOW Line Should read 90%
Not
10%.......
Sorry 'Bout Thet!
This Is Where We're At!
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It's kinda "hard to take"....
(When God made dogs...he somehow didn't give them a long enough "life span"... I intend to "bring that subject up with him" come my judgement day....well, after he's finished his "judge'en" me...then I'll ask him)
The main problems with dogs is that they don't live long enough.....
So......
Me & "the peanut" (my other dog) are settin' here tonight rememberin' .... 'ol "scoot"....
(Man! Could that guy "run"! ....he was a mongrel mix.... Lab, Greyhound, pointer, and pit bull.. and only God knows what else....kinda like me....I got so many "bloods" in my veins.....I cain't be nuttin' except American)
A good friend.......
Me and "th' peanut" will miss him...
(Peanut's been whining all day)
So....
Let me just post this.......
The Power of the Dog
Rudyard KiplingTHERE is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find it’s your own affair
But . . . you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone wherever it goes for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve.
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
Bye, Scoot
Me & Peanut lost a good friend today
We're gonna miss you
Please accept my condolences.
It is tough losing a member of the family.
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."
(I saw Jimmy Stewart read this poem to Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show. Both of them were crying, and I was too.)
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"Terrorists have kidnapped Hillary Clinton, Ted Kennedy, Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton and John Kerry. They are asking for a $10 million ransom. Otherwise, they are going to douse them with gasoline and set them on fire. We are going from car to car, taking up a collection."
The driver asks, "On average, how much is everyone giving?"
"About a gallon."
lol
He is a cutie. Wish I could have about 5 more puppies or kittens. : )
Mr Just says that 2 dogs, 1 cat and 1 fish are enough.
Special
Schnookums
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