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.
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"
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.
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)
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.
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)
Dan
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.)
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.
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.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.