RAINBOW 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…

(This poem is dedicated to Mickey and her family, Homer, TJ, Esther and Ross. Sadly we lost a sweet “fur angel” recently.  I cherish what little time I had with her as her pet sitter and will hold close to my heart the memories. She made me laugh and brought joy to my heart. I will miss you sweet, sweet Mickey. Have fun with Nikki and all the other animals on the other side of the “Rainbow Bridge”)

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

When an animal who has been especially close to someone dies, that pet goes to the 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 and water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. 

Animals who were 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 from days and times gone by.

The animals are happy and content, except for one thing: they miss someone very special to them; the person they left behind.

All of the animals 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 break away 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. 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…

An old man and his dog were walking down this dirt road with fences on both sides, they came to a gate in the fence and looked in, it was nice grassy, woody areas, just what a ‘huntin’ dog and man would like, but, it had a sign saying ‘no trespassing’ so they walked on. They came to a beautiful gate with a person in white robes standing there. “Welcome to Heaven” he said. The old man was happy and started in with his dog following him. The gatekeeper stopped him. “Dogs aren’t allowed, I’m sorry but he can’t come with you.”

“What kind of Heaven won’t allow dogs? If he can’t come in, then I will stay out with him. He’s been my faithful companion all his life, I can’t desert him now.”

“Suit yourself, but I have to warn you, the Devil’s on this road and he’ll try to sweet talk you into his area, he’ll promise you anything, but the dog can’t go there either. If you won’t leave the dog, you’ll spend Eternity on this road.”

So the old man and dog went on. They came to a rundown fence with a gap in it, no gate, just a hole. Another old man was inside. “S’cuse me Sir, my dog and I are getting mighty tired, mind if we come in and sit in the shade for awhile?”

“Of course, there’s some cold water under that tree over there. Make yourselves comfortable”

“You’re sure my dog can come in? The man down the road said dogs weren’t allowed anywhere.”

“Would you come in if you had to leave the dog?”

“No sir, that’s why I didn’t go to Heaven, he said the dog couldn’t come in.
We’ll be spending Eternity on this road, and a glass of cold water and some shade would be mighty fine right about now. But, I won’t come in if my buddy here can’t come too, and that’s final.”

The man smiled a big smile and said “Welcome to Heaven.”

“You mean this is Heaven? Dogs ARE allowed? How come that fellow down the road said they weren’t?”

“That was the Devil and he gets all the people who are willing to give up a life long companion for a comfortable place to stay. They soon find out their mistake, but then it’s too late. The dogs come here, the fickle people stay there. GOD wouldn’t allow dogs to be banned from Heaven. After all, HE created them to be man’s companions in life, why would he separate them in death?”

Author Unknown

“The Reason” ~ Author Unknown

 I would’ve died that day if not for you.

I would’ve given up on life if not for your kind eyes.

I would’ve used my teeth in fear if not for your gentle hands.

I would have left this life believing that all humans don’t care

Believing there is no such thing as fur that isn’t matted

skin that isn’t flea bitten

good food and enough of it

beds to sleep on

someone to love me

to show me I deserve love just because I exist.

Your kind eyes, your loving smile, your gentle hands

Your big heart saved me…

You saved me from the terror of the pound,

Soothing away the memories of my old life.

You have taught me what it means to be loved.

I have seen you do the same for other dogs like me.

I have heard you ask yourself in times of despair

Why you do it

When there is no more money, no more room, no more homes

You open your heart a little bigger, stretch the money a little tighter

Make just a little more room…to save one more like me.

I tell you with the gratitude and love that shines in my eyes

In the best way I know how

Reminding you why you go on trying.

I am the reason

The dogs before me are the reason

As are the ones who come after.

Our lives would’ve been wasted, our love never given

We would die if not for you.

I Learned From My Dog!!

1.    If you stare at someone long enough, eventually you’ll get what you want.

2.    When it comes to having sex, if at first you don’t succeed, beg.

3.    Don’t go out without I.D.

4.    Be direct with people; let them know exactly how you feel by peeing on their shoes.

5.    Be aware of when to hold your tongue, and when to use it.

6.    Leave room in your schedule for a good nap.

7.    Always give people a friendly greeting — a cold nose in the crotch is effective.

8.    When you do something wrong, always take responsibility for it (as soon as you’re dragged out from under the bed).

9.    If it’s not wet and sloppy, it’s not a real kiss.

10. If my dog doesn’t like or trust a person, I shouldn’t either.

11. Never hesitate to take a moment to roll around in the grass and enjoy the moment.

     By Catherine Moore 
       
     “Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!” My father yelled at me.   “Can’t you do anything right?” 
       
     Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn’t prepared for another battle. 
       
     “I saw the car, Dad. Please don’t yell at me when I’m driving.”

         
     My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. 
         
     Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him? 
         
     Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington  and  Oregon  He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. 
       
     The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his powers. 
         
     The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn’t lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn’t do something he had done as a younger man. 
   
    Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. 
         
     At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived… But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone He obstinately refused to follow doctor’s orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone. 
       
     My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. 
         
     Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.. 
       
     Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad’s
troubled mind. 
       
     But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. 
         
     The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain. 
       
     Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, “I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.” 
         
     I listened as she read.. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog. 
         
     I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog  in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world’s aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.. 
       
     Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention.. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly. 
         
     I pointed to the dog “Can you tell me about him?”
       
     The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. “He’s a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we’ve heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow..” He gestured helplessly. 
         
     As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. “You mean you’re going to kill him?” 
         
     “Ma’am,” he said gently, “that’s our policy. We don’t have room for every unclaimed dog.” 
         
     I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. “I’ll take him,” I said.. 
         
     I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. “Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!” I said excitedly. 
       
     Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. “If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don’t want it” Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house. 
         
     Anger rose inside me It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. “You’d better get used to him, Dad. He’s staying!” 
         
     Dad ignored me. “Did you hear me, Dad?” I screamed. 
       
     At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. 
       
     We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. 
       
     Dad’s lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. 
         
     It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne.  Together he and Cheyenne  explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and  Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet. 
         
     Dad and  Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad’s bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne  made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel  Cheyenne’s cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father’s room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night. 
       
     Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad’s bed.. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad’s peace of mind. 
         
     The morning of Dad’s funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.” 
         
     “I’ve often thanked God for sending that angel,” he said. 
       
     For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article…. 
         
     Cheyenne ‘s unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. .. ..his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.