Giving Back
She is Gone
There Must Be a Heaven
Dogs in Our Lives
Having a Soul
A Fine Cat
Stray Cat
I'm Not There
Lives More Temporary
Treasured Friend
Furry Friend
Beau

Giving Back

Not only is there always another good animal
in need of a good home,
but we must remember to be thankful
for the time and love our animals give us
while they are here.
Take time to enjoy them and learn from them.
As painful as it is to lose them,
they teach us to love unselfishly,
they teach us to live each day to the fullest,
they teach us to grow old gracefully,
and they teach us to die with dignity.
We do them disrespect
to focus only on the sorrow of their death
when they have given us so much joy through their life.
If we wish to honor them,
take what they have given us,
all that love,
and give it back to another animal
in need of help.

-- Kent C. Greenough

She Is Gone

You can shed tears that she is gone
or you can smile because she lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her and only that she's gone
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and lose your mind,
be empty and turn your back
or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

-- Author Unknown

There Must Be a Heaven

There must be a heaven
for the animal friends we love.
They are not human,
yet they bring out our own humanity ~
sometimes in ways that other people cannot.
They do not worry about fame or fortune ~
instead they bring our hearts nearer to the joy of simple things.
Each day they teach us little lessons
in trust and steadfast affection.
Whatever heaven may be,
there's surely a place in it
for friends as good as these.

-- Author Unknown

Dogs in Our Lives

We aren't house-proud. If we were,
we wouldn't abide the scratches on the door-frame,
the holes in the screen,
the darkened shine of worn spots on the chair.
We would wince at the mottled carpet
and fret at the hair clinging to our clothes.
We don't.
If anything, we lovers of dogs are a tolerant lot,
finding greater value in the unabashed affection of our friend
than immaculate sofas. Shoes can be replaced,
but heroic retrievers are timeless.
Without dogs, our homes are cold receptacles for things.
Dogs make a fire warmer with their curled presence.
They wake us, greet us, protect us,
and ultimately carve a place in our hearts and in our history.
On reflection, our lives are often referenced in parts
defined by the all-too-short lives of our dogs.

-- Paul Fersen

Having a Soul

If having a soul
means being able to feel
love and loyalty and gratitude,
then animals are better off
than a lot of humans.

-- James Herriot

At the Grave of a Fine Cat

May your whiskers be ruffled by only pleasant breezes,
May your bowls be filled with tuna and sweet cream,
May your dreams be blessed with legions of mice,
And most of all,
May you forever purr in peace.
Amen.

-- Barbara Younger

Stray Cat

Oh, what unhappy twist of fate
Has brought you homeless to my gate?
The gate where once another stood
To beg for shelter, warmth, and food
For from that day I ceased to be
The master of my destiny.

While he, with purr and velvet paw,
Became within my house the law.
He scratched the furniture and shed
And claimed the middle of my bed.
He ruled in arrogance and pride
And broke my heart the day he died.
So if you really think, oh Cat,
I'd willingly relive all that
Because you come forlorn and thin
Well . . . don't just stand there . . . Come on in!

—Francis Witham

 I’m Not There

Don’t stand by my grave and weep
For I’m not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamonds glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circle flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry .
I am not there, I did not die.

Author Unknown

We who choose to surround ourselves
with lives even more temporary
than our own, live within a fragile
circle, easily and often breached.
 Unable to accept its awful gaps,
we still would live no other way.
We cherish memory as the only certain immortality,
never fully understanding the necessary plan.

From “The Once Again Prince” by Irving Townsend

Treasured Friend

Author Unknown

Furry Friend

What would I do without you,
My precious, furry friend?
Part mischief, but all blessing,
And faithful to the end!
You look at me with eyes of love;
You never hold a grudge . . .
You think I'm far too wonderful
To criticize or judge.
It seems your greatest joy in life
Is being close to me . . .
I think God knew how comforting
Your warm, soft fur would be.
I know you think you're human,
But I'm glad it isn't true . . .
The world would be a nicer place
If folks were more like you!
A few short years are all we have;
One day we'll have to part . . .
But you, my pet, will always have
A place within my heart.

© 1993 by Hope Harrington Kolb

Beau

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.

We 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 awhile, 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 awhile.
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'd 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.

Jimmy Stewart

Elegy for Cheddar