To All The Dogs We've Ever Loved Before

My little Schnauzer Ed is snoring on his bed beside me as I work. If I leave the room he will follow me. Like a shadow, ever present, he is a faithful companion, listens to my every word. He is a little comedian and great company to my husband and I. Dogs give you their undying love and devotion. After your kids and grandchildren are grown, they help fill in that great big empty hole in your heart when you don't have a little one to care for any more.

IN MEMORY OF TUCKER

The following was written by; Ben Hur Lampman a U.S. newspaper editor, essayist, short story writer, and poet. Someone had ask him about the best place to bury their beloved pet, this was the article he wrote in reply. He lived from (August 12, 1886 to March 2, 1954) This article stole my heart when first I read it many years ago. I am dedicating it to a face book friend Betty Wylene Coe who just lost her pet poodle “Tucker” of 10 years. It is something I dread facing with Ed, my heart goes out to her.

“Where To Bury Your Dog”
By: Ben Hur Lampman

“We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree or an apple or any flowering shrub of the garden is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer or gnawed at a flavorful bone or lifted head to challenge some strange intruder.

These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter. For if the dog be well-remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where the dog sleeps. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppy hood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pastureland, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog and all one to you, and nothing is gained and nothing is lost .... if memory lives.

But there is one best place to bury a dog. If you bury him in this spot, he will come to you when you call -- come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they shall not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he belongs there. People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing.

The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master.”

This is Matilda, my dear friend Claire's long hair dachshund. Matilda was 19, she died a little over a year ago. I remember the day Claire called to tell me she had rushed her out to get this picture in the snow. This is in memory of sweet Matilda and all the other dogs we've ever loved before. My cousin Dianna & her husband Johnnie took care of Aunt Virgie's (her mother) little dog, . They had it cremated, it was about the same age as Matilda, They were on vacation and wanted to bring it home to bury it. So many years of loving and caring for it, her mother's faithful companion for so long and then theirs.

I remember my first pet loss, Fluffy. A small white dog, daddy got her when I was 2, she lived to be 16, she was blind and deaf by the time she died, so sad. The second of my many brushes with grief. Death is a part of life but fluffy still lives in a secluded part of my heart I recall her memory every time I see crayons. She loved them, it's a wonder she did not poop rainbows. Coloring was one of our biggest rainy day pastimes as a child; that and paper dolls. If I ever got up and left my crayons on the floor I came back to find most of them inside Fluffy. She still comes running through the years when I call her to my memory.

I wrote this poem close to 20 years ago now. We finally moved to Texas so I was able to enjoy the grandchildren before they completely outgrew me. They are so busy now with school and collage, not a lot of time for the old folks. That is the way God planned it though we have to let them go so they can spread their wings and fly, they are after all the future of our nation. We can't keep them under our wings., it would not be right.

Days of Nursery Rhyme

By: Lillian Carol Russell

I remember long ago holding my babies so sweet,

Down the corridors of my mind I still hear the echo of little feet.

In retrospect they grew up so fast,

I didn't realize back then these precious moments would not last.

From diapers to prom clothes to wedding attire,

There's not time to think when your world is on fire.

Racing the clock most every day,

Looking forward to their being grown, I wished this time away.

My son joined the Navy and the tears that I did shed,

I mourned his leaving almost as if that he were dead.

He brought home a buddy after just a few years,

Who then married our daughter giving birth to new tears.

She was so lovely in her gown of white lace,

But empty rooms and heartache moved in to take her place.

In time there were grandchildren, two girls and a boy,

Grandchildren bring a very special kind of joy,

Until last fall they lived just next door,

Then they moved away to Texas to live forever more.

Until then I only thought I knew the meaning of pain,

They ripped out my heart and the tears fell like rain.

Never wish away a moment of your time,

Sooner than you think you'll long for days of nursery rhyme.