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Near this spot are deposited the remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man, without his vices.  This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of Boatswain, a Dog.  ~George Gordon, Lord Byron, "Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog"

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Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring--it was peace." - Milan Kundera

1984-1996

You think dogs will not be in heaven?  I tell you, they will be there long before any of us...Robert Louis Stevenson

 

Grieve not, nor think of me with tears But laugh and talk to me as if I were beside you. I loved you so . . . 'Twas Heaven here with you -- Isla Paschal Richardson

from the 1925 Portland Oregonian

  We are thinking now of a dog, whose coat was flame in the sunshine and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or unworthy thought.  This dog 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 flavorous 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 puppyhood, 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 knowing.

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

 

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 and 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 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. The bright eyes are intent; the 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. 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 the rainbow bridge together.

 

When God Made the Earth and Sky

When God made the Earth and sky,

The flowers and the trees,
He then made all the animals,
And all the birds and bees.

And when his work was finished,
Not one was quite the same,
He said, "I’ll walk this earth of mine,
And give each one a name."

And so he traveled land and sea
And everywhere he went,
A little creature followed him,
Until its strength was spent.

When all were named upon the earth,
And in the sky and sea,
The little creature said, "Dear Lord,
There’s not one left for me."

The Father sniffed and softly said,
"I’ve left you ‘til the end.
I’ve turned my own name back to front,
And called you Dog, my friend!"