Memories and Memorials of Pets at Durham Pet Net.

Durham Pet Net

Pet Memories

The death of a beloved pet is traumatic. Only those who have suffered such
a loss can truly know the heartache and pain it produces. Over the years
many poets and authors have tried to put into words the feelings in our hearts
when we are forced to say that last goodbye.

IF I SHOULD GROW FRAIL

If it should be that I grow frail and weak
And pain does keep me from my sleep,
Then will you do what must be done
for this - the last battle -can't be won.

You will be sad I understand
But don't let grief then stay your hand.
For on this day, more than the rest
Your love and friendship must stand the test.

We have had so many happy years,
You wouldn't want me to suffer so.
When the time comes, please, let me go.

Take me to where my needs they'll tend,
Only, stay with me till the end.
And hold me firm and speak to me
Until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time you will agree
It is a kindness you do to me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I have been saved.

Don't grieve that it must now 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.

(author unknown)

Kerrie
October 13, 2001

You spoke without words
and yet I always heard.

In life and in death, I know
She'll stay near.
My dog's love and loyalty
I know are sencere.

Greatly Missed,
my little spirit and fur.

Forever Mommy & Max

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 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 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 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 Rainbow Bridge together...

-- Anon. --

The Power of the Dog There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
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.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passsion 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 fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's 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.
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-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?

Rudyard Kipling

Little Cat (To Marmie)
[January 1976 - December 4, 1993]

I said goodbye to you today, little cat.
Fingers caught on bones when I stroked your fur.
You could scarcely raise your head to drink,
yet still you calmed me with your purr.

Were you comfortable curled on the rug?
And did you know your time drew near?
Your wide green eyes held gentle love,
and quiet pain, but showed no fear.

You slipped away so quietly
that we weren't sure that you were gone.
Our bouncy little cat is stilled
but your spirit lingers on.

Little ghostcat, where are you?
Are you happy, are you strong?
I feel your warmth, your life, your love
and still can hear your purring song.

MJ Falango

Grieve not,
nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk of me
as if I were beside you...
I loved you so -----
'twas Heaven here with you.

Isla Paschal Richardson

Pushkin In a cage at the uptown ASPCA he left his musky scent on my hands,and locked his yellow-green eyes on those of a woman in a blue smock who said he was strange, and when I took him downtown on the Second Avenue bus he forced his head through the cardboard box and looked like a just-hatched bird making everyone laugh, and when I first offered him food he ate growling under his breath, and from the beginning he came running to me when I said his new name Pushkin, as if he knew he had the spirit of the dead poet within him.
And I have always loved how dense and black his top coat is, how white fur hikes up his front legs like thick storm boots, how he still has not grown into his huge paws, how in cold weather he naps on my flannel nightgowns, or lies across vents of the radiator so that only he feels the heat, and in warm weather fills my small bathtub with his long body, and when he doesn't like his food he scrapes his paws across the kitchen walls, and as he gets older his white stomach falls like a loose purse between his legs.
When he is sleeping an old soul's smile forms on his mouth, and each morning at 6:45 he stands over me pushing his face against my ear and he is always stalking shadows at the door when I come home, and when I write he sits in the middle of my lined papers and rubs his black and white face against my pen, and on sad days when I feel stuck inside I can not resist him, and I let him be my poem.

- Penny Cagan

June 3, 1990 - October 25, 1999
Two years have passed
and we are still in pain.
We go through your pictures
and with tears they stain.

We remember your antics,
It brings laughter to our hearts,
And we know down deep
We'll never be apart.

With All Our Hearts
Mommy, Daddy, Kids & Grandkids

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