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by Jimmy Stewart
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
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.
The Legend of the Rainbow Bridge
(edited...but still mushy)
It is said just between the Earth and Heaven is the divine place known as the Rainbow Bridge.
When the household pet who has been attached to someone here on the Earth dies, he is whisked heavenward toward the Rainbow Bridge, while the bitter devastated human hides out and whines in the shadow of the thief Death.
Hush, have faith. There are the awaited wide meadows, the shaded willows, the wooded forests, the hillsides, with the thousand adventures for our special friends so they can play together with all the other animals.
There is enough food, water and sunshine at the Rainbow Bridge that the pets are warm and comfortable.
All the animals that had died ill or old, weak or withered, are restored in a heartbeat to youthful health and vigor; likewise, all those who were hurt or maimed are made unhurt and whole again, and wide awake, just as we remember them before death, in our dreams of times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, but there's something lacking - someone dear to them, who was left behind. They must be dutiful, waiting for us humans to arrive.
The multitude of kittens and puppies all run, play, and roughhouse together like childhood buddies, but the time comes eventually when an individual animal hesitates and looks off into the distance. His bright eyes twinkle, his ears listen, and his whole healthful body starts to shake with enthusiasm. He begins to run from the group, heading toward his familiar human friend, like a whirlwind over the green meadows, the legs underneath him carrying him faster and faster.
You have been identified. You whistle loud and shout the pet's name, and when you and the special friend are united again, hugs will wreath his neck in joyous reunion, never to be divided again. Your own beautified face will be washed with happy wet whiskered kisses, while you will caress his beloved head with unwrinkled hands, and you will look once more into the wise and trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
And then both of you will walk in bliss and happiness across the Rainbow Bridge together.