I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep. I could see that you were crying, You found it hard to sleep. I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear, "It's me, I haven't left you, I'm well, I'm fine, I'm here."
I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea, You were thinking of the many times, your hands reached down to me. I was with you at the shops today, Your arms were getting sore. I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more.
I was with you at my grave today, You tend it with such care. I want to re-assure you, that I'm not lying there. I walked with you towards the house, as you fumbled for your key. I gently put my paw on you, I smiled and said " it's me."
You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair. I tried so hard to let you know, that I was standing there. It's possible for me, to be so near you everyday. To say to you with certainty, "I never went away." You sat there very quietly, then smiled, I think you knew... In the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.
The day is over... I smile and watch you yawning and say "good-night, God bless, I'll see you in the morning." And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide, I'll rush across to greet you and we'll stand, side by side. I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see.
Be patient, live your journey out...then come home to be with me.
Author ~ Missing You poem By Colleen Fitzsimmons/ In memory of Shadow & Sexy Sadie
In honor of Bindi Irwin winning the 2015 Dancing with the Stars with a dance dedicated to her father, I thought it was only appropriate to post this poem that was written about her father (author unknown).
An Interesting Day at Rainbow Bridge
Rainbow Bridge is a place of both peace and anticipation as departed pets await their beloved owners. There are plenty of things to keep them contented while they wait: trees you can't get stuck in, endless meadows, splashing streams, thickets perfect to hide in for pounce-attack games.
But one day the residents noticed some rather... unusual newcomers arrive.
The koalas and the kangaroos slipped in rather quietly, but then came the bearded dragons, the skinks and the goannas. The influx of snakes startled an entire family of cats up a tree. Pythons, cobras, tiger snakes, brown snakes and even fierce snakes. There were so many at one point, it seemed the ground itself was alive with writhing. A burly wombat shouldered his way through the crowd and plopped down in a shady spot, barely missing a Jack Russell terrier who yapped indignantly as he abandoned his position.
And then the crocodiles showed up.
Finally, a Great Dane managed to get up enough nerve to approach one of the reptilian giants.
"Um....excuse me," he said hesitantly. "But why are you all here?"
The croc dropped her jaw and laughed. "Same as you, mate," she said. "Waitin' for someone who loved us."
The dogs, cats, gerbils and other "typical pets" looked at each other in confusion, then at the plethora of weird, ugly and downright deadly creatures assembled. Who on Earth could possibly love some of those faces?
"I see him!" shouted a green mamba from his vantage point in one of the trees. A cacophony of squeaks, hisses, bellows and roars erupted as the mob surged forward toward a lone human walking across the field toward the bridge. The other animals managed to catch a glimpse of him before he was overwhelmed by the crowd.
"CRIKEY!" he shouted joyously right before he was bowled over by the wombat.
"Well I'll be," said a Persian as she tidied up her fur. "It's that Aussie my human liked to watch on TV. Had to be the craziest human on the whole planet."
Sorrow as a result of death(s) are affecting a number of my friends today. I happened to find this poem tucked away in an obscure file. Hopefully it will help.
A POEM FOR THE GRIEVING...
Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn's rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die...
When tomorrow starts without me, And I'm not there to see; The sun will rise and find your eyes All filled with tears for me. I wish so much you wouldn't cry The way you did today, Remembering how I'd lay my head In your lap that special way. I know how much you love me, As much as I love you, And each time that you think of me, I know you'll miss me too.
But when tomorrow starts without me. Please try to understand, That an angel came and called my name And petted me with her hand. She said my place was ready, In Heaven far above, And that I'd have to leave behind All those I dearly love. But, as I turned to heel away, A tear fell from my eye, For all my life I never thought That I would have to die.
I had so much to live for, So many sits and downs to do, It seemed almost impossible, That I was leaving you. I thought about our lives together, I know you must be sad, I thought of all the love we shared, And all the fun we had. Remember how I'd nudge your hand, And poke you with my nose? The frisbee I would gladly chase, The bad guy, I'd "bark and hold".
If I could relive yesterday, Just even for awhile, I'd wag my tail and kiss you, Just so I could see you smile. But, then I fully realized, That this could never be; For emptiness and memories Will take the place of me. And when I thought of treats and toys, I might miss come tomorrow, I thought of you and when I did, My dog-heart filled with sorrow.
But then I walked through Heaven's gate, And felt so much at home; As God looked down and smiled at me, From His beautiful golden throne.
He said, "This is eternity, And now we welcome you, Today your life on earth is past, But here it starts anew. I promise no tomorrow, But today will always last; For you see, each days's the same day, There's no longing for the past. Now you have been so faithful, So trusting, loyal and true; Though there were times you did things, You knew you shouldn't do. But good dogs are forgiven, And now at last you're free; So won't you sit here by my side, And wait right here with me?"
So when tomorrow starts without me, Don't think we're far apart. For every time you think of me, I'm right there, in your heart.
My nephew informed me that he was learning about poems in class. It reminded me of one of my favorite poems that I had to pull out and share with him.
THE TALE OF CUSTARD THE DRAGON
By Ogden Nash
Copyright Linell Nash Smith and Isabel Nash Eberstadt
Belinda lived in a little white house, With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse, And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon, And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink, And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink, And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard, But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth, And spikes on top of him and scales underneath, Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose, And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears, And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs, Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage, But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful, Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival, They all sat laughing in the little red wagon At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Belinda giggled till she shook the house, And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse, Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age, When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound, And Mustard growled, and they all looked around. Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda, For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right, And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright, His beard was black, one leg was wood; It was clear that the pirate meant no good.
Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help! But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp, Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household, And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.
But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine, Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon, With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.
The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon, And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon, He fired two bullets but they didn't hit, And Custard gobbled him, every bit.
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him, No one mourned for his pirate victim Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.
Belinda still lives in her little white house, With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse, And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon, And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears, And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs, Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage, But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
A wonderful poem written by the actor Jimmy Stewart.
“While shooting a movie in Arizona, Stewart received a phone call from Dr. Keagy, his veterinarian, who informed him that Beau was terminally ill, and that Gloria sought his permission to perform euthanasia. Stewart declined to give a reply over the phone, and told Keagy to ‘keep him alive and I'll be there.’ Stewart requested several days' leave, which allowed him to spend some time with Beau before granting the doctor permission to euthanize the sick dog. Following the procedure, Stewart sat in his car for ten minutes to clear his eyes of tears. Stewart later remembered: ‘After [Beau] died there were a lot of nights when I was certain that I could feel him get into bed beside me and I would reach out and pat his head. The feeling was so real that I wrote a poem about it and how much it hurt to realize that he wasn’t going to be there any more.’”
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
