Every good dog was once a puppy.
I had a door to door security systems salesman ring the doorbell. When I opened the door, Duke and Mooch were staring him in the eye. His just said: "I guess you're really not interested in a security system and walked off."
There 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 hat 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?
I wanted to share this poem with you and other dog lovers. This poem always brings tears to my eyes (I lost a very special one after 12 years), but it also reminds me to treasure each moment we have with our loving companions.
Please add me to your list. Thanks. Woof.
TC
Every good dog was once a puppy.
Here's one of my two babies...the other one looks exactly like him.
Our friend owns an Australian who whines and curls up on her back for petting whenever I arrive. Her Rhodesian ridgebacks are also lovable and intimidating to strangers. I got tired of the male, Dude, jumping at me, so I swatted his nose. He did it again, so I swatted him again. Then he growled. OK, no more swatting. Instead I stroke his face on each side and he looks transported with ecstacy.
I favor the nose swat for jumping dogs, but a border collie/lab mix fixed me. I swatted her nose once. The second time she jumped on me she anticipated the swat and dodged several attempts to discipline her. Then she ran to the basement steps (when I was headed, laughing at her high IQ) and looked at me pleadingly, as if to ask, "Do you still love me?" I did not see her for years and we were still great friends.
We have a Sheltie. Every day on our walk a new person will say, "What a beautiful dog!" Ours is a mahogany tricolor, so she looks just like Lassie, but smaller.
My wife says that when I leave the house for a few hours, Precious will look up and whine for me. Right now she is sleeping on a corner of the bed, her nose pointed toward me. (I mean my dog, of course.)
The funny thing about Precious is that my wife and I were determined to keep the dog outside. Then the weather got hot and Precious would bark to come inside and escape the Phoenix heat. Her bark at the bedroom door to the outside sounded like her last plea before dying. Then my wife decided it was unfair for Precious to be out in the rain. Precious was inside more and more but not on the bed. Then she wanted up on the bed. Soon Precious was sleeping on the bed. Precious wormed her way into our life so adroitly that we laugh about it. One puppy outsmarted and outmaneuvered two adults who never had a pet before.
Our friend Brenda adopted a miniature poodle that was abused to the point of death. Duncan does not like bars or men for that reason. Duncan did not trust me for a long time, then suddenly adopted me. Brenda has a degenerative bone condition and uses a powered wheelchair. Duncan rides and walks with her. They love each other. I was eating a Dairy Queen when I was talking to them outside one day. Duncan got a weird look on his face. I asked what was going on. Brenda said, "He thinks the cone is for him! He loves Dairy Queen!" I put the cone on the ground and let Duncan enjoy it. Now I buy for everyone when I am with Brenda.
A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them. After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"
"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.
"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open.
"Can my friend come in, too?" the traveler asked, gesturing toward his dog.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."
The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going. After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.
"Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any water?"
"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there" The man pointed to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.
"There should be a bowl by the pump."
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them.
"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"This is Heaven," was the answer.
"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."
"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's Hell."
"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"
"No. I can see how you might think so, but we're just happy that they screen out the folks who'll leave their best friends behind."