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IF IT SHOULD BE
If it should be that I grow frail and weak
And pain should wake me from my sleep
Then you must do what must be done
For this battle can't be won.
You will be sad, I understand.
Don't let your grief then stay your hand,
For this day more than all the rest
Your love and friendship stands the test.
We've had so many happy years,
What is to come canl hold no fears,
You'll not want me to suffer, so,
When the time comes, please let me go.
Take me where my needs they’ll tend
only stay with me until the end
and hold me firm, and speak to me
until my eyes no longer see.
I know in time you too will see,
It is a kindness you do to me,
Although my tail its last has moved,
From pain and suffering I've been saved.
Don't grieve that it should be you,
Who has to decide this thing to do,
We've been so close, we two, these years,
Don't let your heart hold any tears.
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The Power of the Dog - Rudyard Kipling
Buy 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.
When the fourteen 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---it's your affair---
But...you've given your heart to a dog to tear
We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying the Christian clay
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is 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-time loan is as bad as a long---
So why in Heaven---(before we are there)
Should be give our hearts to a dog to tear?
We never really own a dog as much as he owns us
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and some have small spots on their legs and their toeses.
We come in nice colours, in dapple and in patches,
and some come alone, and some come in batches.
some are quite brilliant, and win lots of prizes,
while some never win, but will always tell lieses.
We stand fine and tall on elegant leggies,
and we have in our mouths some shining white peggsies.
Some are a bit shy and make loud boasts,
while some are as deaf as the proverbial posts.
Some can find birds, and point out where they’re hidden
and some wouldn’t recognise a bird if it hit ‘em...
We are not vicious guard dogs patrolling the houses,
attacking the postman and ripping his trousis;
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I waken from fitful sleep, legs jerking, low growls deep within my chest;Tired eyes look down on a wrinkled greying muzzle;With effort I roll, Looking at gnarled scarred feet and legs bearing a million old cactus spines buried within; reminding me of all those prickly pear and jumping cactus.
Slowly I lift my weary head and gaze upon a greying, cloud filled November sky; deeply I breathe in....ahhhh .... finally...... fall is here!! - Lord, please grant my master the strength to make one more season; twelve years have passed since our first hunt together...Longingly I gaze into the heavens above...
I have led him through cactus and mesquite, Tall grass, rocks hills and creeks.
We have seen together ten thousand covey rises, a thousand cackling roosters and a million ducks taking flight..
But now, as I look in the window..... I see my loving master has tired..... his pace has slowed and his once commanding voice raspy and faded.
Lord..... three lifetimes now have I pointed his quail, flushed his roosters, marked his ducks..... and brought them all to hand..... well most anyhow, and the few I ate.....well he didn't really want them anyhow. But time has caught us both..... now he is slow to rise from his rocker as am I from my pad..... his weathered face and my clouded eyes...., neither the same as before.... but still the lines in his face are maps I follow in my dreams..... when clearer eyes led the way through green briar and snow.... sandstorms and blinding rain.
Oh lord grant us one more season so that as we each pass from this life we may
pass on to our sons and daughters the life, the love, the joy and the sorrows of a thousand hunts we've shared .
And Lord, finally when the season is done would you grant him a soft chair,
and me a fine rug........
By the hearth in your heavenly lodge.....
Please Lord, Please, Just one More Season.......
Inspired by Duke, J.D, Bubba, Rocky and Killer.
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TO: GOD
FROM: THE DOG
Dear God: Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another?
Dear God: When we get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story?
Dear God: Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We do love a nice ride! Would it be so hard to rename the "Chrysler Eagle" the " Chrysler Beagle"?
Dear God: If a dog barks his head off in the forest and no human hears him, is he still a bad dog?
Dear God: We dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID's, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?
Dear God: More meatballs, less spaghetti, please.
Dear God: Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize?
Dear God: Let me give you a list of just some of the things I must remember to be a good dog.
1 . I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up.
2. Â I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell.
3. Â The Litter Box is not a cookie jar.
4. Â The sofa is not a 'face towel'.
5. Â The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.
6. Â I will not play tug-of-war with dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.
7. Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying "hello".
8. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table.
9. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house - not after.
10. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt.
11. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch.
12. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.
 Â
Â
P.S. Dear God: When I get to Heaven may I have my testicles back? |
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Lament of a Stud Dog
My job is making puppies,and I get two tries at that.
They pat me and say "Good Boy" and that's the end of that.
It's half my job to give them teeth, and toplines, fronts and other.
Remember, it's only half my job - they also have a mother.
It's not my job to carry pups and make them grow or to nurse them.
And feed and clean and make them strong. That's for mother and a person.
It's not my job to wean them and feed them calcium, food,
And stack and gait and housebreak and make them show or brood.
It's not by job to plan the breeding, and learn what produces well;
to study pedigrees, learn what's there, and pick out what will sell.
It's not my job to guarantee champs, the breeder picks the pair.
To make and whelp and feed and show and hope that champ is there.
It's not my job to be on hand when points are given out;
The breeders, owners, dam and friends take all the credit with a shout.
It's not my job to deliver a winner It's only genes I sell,
But let those puppies turn out bad, and guess who catches HELL !
Author Unknown
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