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Where To Bury A Dog
There are various places
within which a dog may be buried. 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 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, and it touches sentiment more than anything
else.
For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your
dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing,
begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at
last. 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 pasture land, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It
is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, and
nothing lost -- if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury
a dog. One place that is best of all.
If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already
have, 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
should not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he is yours and
he belongs there.
People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by
his footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition,
people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them then, 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.
by Ben Hur Lampman
Rainbow Bridge
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 our special friends so they can run and play together. there is plenty of
food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who have been ill and
old are restored to health and vigour; those who were hurt or maimed are made
whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each 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. His bright
eyes are intent; his eager body begins to quiver. Suddenly he begins to run
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 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!
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