Two Cool Dog Stories (Dog Lovers Alert!!)

A man wrote a letter to a small hotel in a Midwest town, which he planned to visit on his vacation. He wrote, "I would very much like to bring my dog with me. He is well groomed and very well behaved. Would you be willing to permit me to keep him in my room with me at night?"

An immediate reply came from the hotel owner, who said, "I've been operating this hotel for many years. In all that time, I've never had a dog steal towels, bedclothes, silverware or pictures off the walls. I've never had to evict a dog in the middle of the night for being drunk and disorderly. And I've never had a dog run out on a hotel bill. Yes, indeed, your dog is welcome at my hotel, and if your dog will vouch for you, you're welcome to stay here, too!"

In 1858, a man named John Gray was buried in old Greyfriars Churchyard. His grave levelled by the hand of time, and unmarked by any stone, became scarcely discernible; but, although no human interest seemed to attach to it. The sacred spot was not wholly disregarded and forgotten. For fourteen years the dead man's faithful dog kept constant watch and guard over the grave until his own death in 1872. James Brown, the old curator of the burial ground, remembers Gray's funeral, and the dog, a Skye terrier called "Bobby", was, he says, one of the most conspicuous of the mourners. The grave was closed in as usual, and next morning "Bobby", was found, lying on the newly-made mound.

This was an innovation which old James could not permit, for there was an order at the gate stating in the most intelligible characters that dogs were not admitted. "Bobby" was accordingly driven out; but next morning he was there again, and for the second time was discharged. The third morning was cold and wet, and when the old man saw the faithful animal, in spite of all chastisement, still lying shivering on the grave, he took pity on him, and gave him some food. This recognition of his devotion gave "Bobby" the right to make the churchyard his home; and from that time until his own death he never spent a night away from his master's tomb.

Often in bad weather attempts were made to keep him within doors, but by dismal howls he succeeded in making it known that this interference was not agreeable to him, and he was always allowed to have his way. At almost any time during the day he could be seen in or about the churchyard, and no matter how rough the night, nothing could induce him to forsake that hallowed spot, whose identity he so faithfully preserved.

That, however, concludes the story of the life of Greyfriars' Bobby, a life which was later commemorated by the erection of the statue and fountain by Baroness Burdett Coutts. The figure which was unveiled, without any ceremony, on November 15, 1873.

Amen! I am very active with Guardian Angel Basset Rescue, and our precious Wilson came from there. He and our darling Piper are attached at the hip! I grew up with a Basset as my best friend, and the stories of the rescue dogs just break my heart. Rescue dogs are wonderful pets too; Wilson was found wandering the streets in Indiana in the dead of winter before he was taken to a pound, then transferred to GABR. They cared for him, gave him medical attention and neutered him, before we got him. He was staying with fosters in Wisconsin. He was very shy, and still a little thin when we got him, but he is the sweetest little fella you could ever hope to meet! He and my fiance are best buds, while Piper and I have bonded as only "gals" can! But both Bob and I love both of them as our "children." I cannot have children, and by the time I was in a place where I could adopt, my health was failing me. Piper and Wilson are my lifelines. They make me smile, and laugh, and feel good, even on my worst pain days!

Please do adopt from a shelter or rescue before buying from an independent breeder -- and please do not buy from a pet shop, as most pets there are from puppy mills, and puppy mills do not deserve our support!!

More information can be found from GABR or The Daily Drool. The "Drool" lists information on rescue organizations of practically all breeds.

God bless you, tinlady!!

Here are my Wilson (foreground) and Piper (background) --

I beg your indulgence as I post pictures of my darling "babies" through the years.

I lost my Priscilla, a wedding present from my second husband (Keith Palmer), just last year. Keith died of cancer in 1991. My sweet Priscilla was helped on her way to Rainbows Bridge, when she became too old and feeble to even walk, and shook constantly from pain. It broke my heart, but I had to let her go in August of 2000. I'd had her since 1986, when she was seven weeks old. So, she was almost 14 when she left us. Bob and I stayed with her, and I held her face in my hands and kissed her on her furry face (so did Bob), as the "doctor" she'd had her whole life helped us bid her farewell -- until we all meet again. As the pain medication reached her system, the look of relief in her eyes was enough to fill my own eyes with tears. We stayed with her, after she was gone, until I looked at her lying there, then fell against the wall, nearly fainting. My heart was overcome, and we had to leave. She was no longer there, after all. She was my best friend for all those years, and she went through so much with me. . . . I miss her terribly, and I wish her a Merry Christmas, in Rainbows Bridge. This is my precious Priss --

She is not alone at the Bridge, as our sweet little Phoebe is with her. We were on a rescue mission, and took Phoebe from horrible conditions. She was only eight weeks old, and we'd had her for only three days when she showed signs of being extremely ill. We whisked her to the vet, and got the worst news possible. Phoebe had parvo. We hadn't reached her soon enough. We asked our vet to do everything in his power to save her, as I scoured the internet for anything that might help. After three weeks, and three emergency surgeries from complications, our precious Phoebe went to the Bridge in June of last year. Our vet was there when she passed. I had, oddly enough, finally prayed for God to take her if she would have a terrible, painful life as a result of the complications she suffered. Dr. Mike had, apparently, seen her before I prayed, and she was sleeping but alive. Fifteen minutes later, he checked on her again, and she had gone to Rainbows Bridge. Dr. Mike called my mother and told her, and she called me, at approximately 10:20 pm. That fit the time frame, exactly. I think God whispered into her little ear that her "Mama" gave her permission to let go if she had to. And she did. (I do thank God that we'd had her when she became ill. I told her "breeder" that she had parvo on the day we discovered it. He was not a "breeder," but a farmer; he said that if it were him; "he'd a done just her go." He would have either let her suffer and die in that horrible pen she was in, or he would have shot her! I'm serious! I thank God every day that she didn't have to endure either of those fates! Instead, she died while being cared for by the best vet there is, and Bob and me, who I am sure she knows loved her very much, and still do.) Merry Christmas to my sweet little Phoebe as well --

And both Priss and Phoebe would be there with Bones, my childhood friend. I don't know for sure when she left for the Bridge, as my parents gave her away one day when I was in school. (I was 15 years old when they gave her to someone who lived down the street, because she didn't get along with my mother's new Bulldogs! I'd had Bones since I was little, and she moved to Nashville with us from Galva, Illinois. She had priority! She slept on the end of my bed every night! But my mother didn't care, and just gave her away, so I came home to an empty room when I got home from school!) I know Bones is at the Bridge too, and I know I will see her again. I hope she lived out the rest of her days with a family who loved her as much as I did, and still do. My mother doesn't have the power to keep us apart for all eternity, thank God! Bones knows I loved her. I miss her too, and I wish her a Merry Christmas as well! All three of my beloved Bassets are at the Bridge together, waiting. But they are playing together and are happy; I'm sure of it! Here is a pic of me, with my first darling Basset, Bones --

God bless you all -- Priscilla, Phoebe, and Bones. And God Jul!

From Rainbows Bridge --

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together. . . .

Author unknown. . . .

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