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In a message dated 1/6/2009 5:20:42 P.M. Eastern Standard
Time, chrissy@instant.net writes:
Our ten-year old Pyr died the day after Christmas. The day prior he stood there like a champ while the grandkids decorated him like a Christmas tree and covered him with stuffed animals, foam peanuts and garland. His name was Fermat. Christine: Whenever I hear of a Pyr crossing the Rainbow
Bridge, I always send their human a poem by Rudyard Kipling. Mr. K. is far
more eloquent than I could ever be.
Robert Low - Metro Atlanta GP Club
The
Power of the Dog by
Rudyard Kipling There is
sorrow enough in the natural way
And when
we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do
we always arrange for more? Brothers
and sisters, I bid you beware Of
giving your heart to a dog to tear. Get a
pup and your money will buy Love
unflinching that cannot lie Perfect
passion and worship fed By a
kick in the ribs or a pat on the head. Nevertheless, it is hardly
fair To risk
your heart to a dog to tear. When the
sum of years which Nature permits Are
closing in; asthma, or tumor, or fits, And the
vet's unspoken prescription runs To
lethal chambers or loaded guns, Then you
will find its your own affair. But
you've given your heart to a dog to tear. When the
body that lived at your single will, With its
whimper of welcome, is stilled, how still! When the
spirit that answered your every mood Is gone,
wherever it goes, for good, You will
discover how much you care, And will
give your heart to a dog to tear. We've
sorrow enough in the natural way, When it
comes to burying Christian clay. Our
loves are not given, but only lent, At
compound interest of cent per cent. And
though itâs not always the case, I believe, That the
longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve For when
debts are payable, right or wrong, A
short-term loan is as bad as a long So why
in Heaven, before we are there Should
we give our hearts to a dog to tear? |