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Oscar has Passed Away
today | me

Posted on 10/20/2002 11:30:07 AM PDT by Moleman

I apologize for the vanity- I am heartbroken today as my best friend and faithful companion has died. My tuff little Yorkie, Oscar, was killed last night by a coyote. The damn coyote snatched him right off of his rope in the backyard. Seems like the environmental nazi's want to keep all these killers alive so they can kill more domestic pets. He was my best friend in the whole world- his nickname was "Moleman"


TOPICS: Miscellaneous
KEYWORDS: molemancoyote; oscar
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To: Moleman
I'm so sorry to hear about your loss. Coyotes are getting pretty brazen in intruding, I worry about small children.
81 posted on 10/20/2002 3:13:08 PM PDT by MissAmericanPie
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To: Moleman
"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.)

82 posted on 10/20/2002 3:21:11 PM PDT by Fighter@heart
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To: All
Thank you all so much for your kind words
83 posted on 10/20/2002 3:31:09 PM PDT by Moleman
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To: Publius6961
We don't have a fence - A Hole
84 posted on 10/20/2002 3:41:21 PM PDT by Moleman
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To: Moleman
Poems of Animals
Rudyard Kipling

The Power of the Dog

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I beg 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 to 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,
When 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 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-term 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?
http://www.petportraits.org/pet_portraits_poems_of_animals.htm
85 posted on 10/20/2002 3:47:11 PM PDT by Chemnitz
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To: Chemnitz
Anyone who has a dog knows how much the little animal means to us. I think Kipling said it well.
86 posted on 10/20/2002 3:49:04 PM PDT by Chemnitz
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To: Moleman
Our most sincere sympathy. We have known and loved 27
dogs which have passed. I know the grief you feel. The
bitter wonder of what if. We fail our friends sometimes,
but when our friends are dogs, there is no doubt of forgiveness. Just remember, all dogs go to heaven.
87 posted on 10/20/2002 4:01:17 PM PDT by wewillnotfail
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To: Moleman; joesnuffy
Moleman, my heart goes out to you. I can't imagine the heartache of losing a dog in that way.

Yorkies are wonderful little dogs! Case in point:

I hope you will give another one a good home -- when your heart is ready, of course.

88 posted on 10/20/2002 4:19:07 PM PDT by ru4liberty
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To: rdb3
Owls get that big?

I was out with my (previous) cat about 10 yrs ago around midnight, an owl came down & hit me in the shoulder & knocked me down (almost causing me to soil my shorts), I hit it with my .38

The next day my buddy & I stretched it out, it was 5 1/2 foot wingspan, his dad mounted it (& my cat was grateful it wasn't dinner)

89 posted on 10/20/2002 10:19:53 PM PDT by Ford Fairlane
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To: Fighter@heart
Rainbow Bridge

I wish you would post the link to that site, it's beautiful. I'm on a different computer and don't have it bookmarked here.

90 posted on 10/20/2002 10:35:40 PM PDT by potlatch
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To: Moleman
My heart goes out to you, I know how it feels.
91 posted on 10/20/2002 10:38:26 PM PDT by potlatch
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To: austinrepub
What a mean thing to say! obviously you have never 'shared' the true love and joy of a pet.
92 posted on 10/20/2002 10:42:51 PM PDT by potlatch
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To: Moleman
THE CURATE THINKS YOU HAVE NO SOUL

The curate thinks you have no soul;
I know that he has none. But you,
Dear friend, whose solemn self-control,
In our foursquare familiar pew,
Was pattern to my youth -- whose bark
Called me in summer dawns to rove --
Have you gone down into the dark
Where none is welcome -- none may love?
I will not think those good brown eyes
Have spent their life of truth so soon;
But in some canine paradise
Your wraith, I know, rebukes the moon,
And quarters every plain and hill,
Seeking his master... As for me,
This prayer at least the gods fulfill;
That when I pass the flood and see
Old Charon by the Stygian coast
Take toll of all the shades who land,
Your little, faithful, barking ghost
May leap to lick my phantom hand.

-St John Lucas
English novelist (1879 - 1934)

93 posted on 10/21/2002 6:55:21 AM PDT by kaylar
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To: Moleman
Oh, dang that would make me angry, and sad. Sorry to hear of it. Time for a little shooting practice... for therapeutic reasons? Check your local ordinances... then check your ordnance!

Dan

94 posted on 10/21/2002 6:57:48 AM PDT by BibChr
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To: Moleman
INSCRIPTION ON THE MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG at NEWSTEAD ABBEY

written by Lord Byron

Newstead was founded in 1170 by Henry II and was an active religious community for 400 years. The original Priory church was dissolved in 1539 by Henry VIII. In 1540 Sir John Byron bought the estate and converted the Priory into a family house. In 1789 at the age of ten, George Gordon, who had grown up in Scotland inherited both his title, Lord Byron, and Newstead Abbey.

A few years later when his Newfoundland died and in 1808 he had the Newf buried at the abbey and then in 1809 he took his first trip abroad, which inspired the long, melancholy poem Childe Harolds Pilgrimage, by which he was best known in the nineteenth century and today as one of the great poets of the English Romantic era.

On one side of the pedestal supporting the antique urn he had inscribed:

NEAR THIS SPOT
ARE DEPOSITED THE REMAINS OF ONE
WHO POSSESSED BEAUTY WITHOUT VANITY
STRENGTH WITHOUT INSOLENCE
COURAGE WITHOUT FEROCITY
AND ALL THE VIRTUES OF MAN WITHOUT HIS VICES
THIS PRAISE WHICH WOULD BE UNMEANING
FLATTERY IF INSCRIBED OVER HUMAN ASHES
IS BUT A JUST TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF
BOATSWAIN, A DOG
WHO WAS BORN AT NEWFOUNDLAND, MAY 1803,
AND DIED AT NEWSTEAD, NOVEMBER 18, 1808.

When some proud son of man returns to earth
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptur'd art exhausts the art of woe,
And stoned urns record who rest below;
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been;
But the poor Dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend;
Whose honest heart is still his master's own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes, for him
alone
Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in Heaven the soul he held on earth;
While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself sole exclusive of Heaven!
Oh, man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debas'd by slavery, or corrupt by power,
Who knows thee well, must quit thee with
disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for
shame.
Ye! who, perchance, behold this single Urn
Pass on--it none you wish to mourn:
To mark a Friend's remains these stones arise,
I never knew but one, and here he lies.
Newstead Abbey, November 30,1808

(Just oncec, I'd like to read the St Lucas poem, the Byron poem,and the KKipling poem without my vision getting all blurry.)

95 posted on 10/21/2002 7:02:56 AM PDT by kaylar
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To: Moleman
Sorry friend. Perhaps this will help.

Senator Vest's Tribute to the dog.

It is strange how tenaciously popular memory clings to the bits of eloquence men have uttered, long after their deeds and most of their recorded thoughts are forgotten, or but indifferently remembered.
Wherever and as long as the name of the late Senator Vest of Missouri is mentioned, it will always be associated with the beautiful tribute he once uttered in praise of man's most faithful companion.

Many years ago Senator Vest represented in a law-suit a plainiff whose dog had been wantonly shot by a neighbor.
Damages of $200 were asked, but after two minutes' deliberation the jury awarded the plaintff $500, as the result of the following words by his attorney:

"Gentlemen of the jury: The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy.
His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful.
Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith.
The money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him perhaps when he needs it the most.
A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action.
The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us, may be the first to throw the stone of malace when failure settles its cloud upon our heads.
The one absolutely unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him and the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog.

"Gentlemen of the jury, a man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness.
He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side.
He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world.
He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince.
When all other friends desert he remains.
When riches take wing and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.
If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful Dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his grave-side will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad,but open in alert watchfulness, faithful And true even to death.

96 posted on 10/21/2002 7:08:00 AM PDT by tet68
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To: rdb3
I hope you do find out who killed your dogs, and successfully prosecute them. I just lost a 14 1/2 year old dachshund to natural causes , that was rough enough-I cannot imagine what it must be like to lose a beloved pet because of the deliberate criminal action of a stranger/enemy. And I have 3 other dogs to help ease the pain, to lose all my dogs at once-!

When you get your new pups, maybe a hidden camera would be a good idea, set up with a good view of their pen. If this is a person with a hatred of all pit bulls regardless of whether the dog did anything to them, they might try to strike again.

97 posted on 10/21/2002 7:09:30 AM PDT by kaylar
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To: tet68
I live 18 miles from Warrensburg, MO, where Senator Vest gave that peroration. There's a statue of Ol' Drum there on the courthouse grounds where Senator Vest spoke.
98 posted on 10/21/2002 7:12:14 AM PDT by kaylar
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To: Moleman
Lemme at them coyotes.... man that is bad. I am so sorry.
99 posted on 10/21/2002 10:05:57 AM PDT by Terriergal
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To: rdb3
sick people. Someone must have been paranoid about Pitbulls. :-( My first dog died of antifreeze poisoning. I was so picked on in school that I still wonder if one of the bullies did it. I will never know, I bet. Either that or my still wacky neighbor, who my mom still has to put up with.
100 posted on 10/21/2002 10:08:45 AM PDT by Terriergal
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