|I miss the wagging little tail;|
I miss the plaintive, pleading wail;
I miss the wistful, loving glance;
I miss the circling, welcome-dance.
|To the most loyal friend who would have fought to the death for me. To my constant companion who loved nothing better than to be on my knee. To my little comedian who made us laugh every day. To my wee Joni who can never be replaced.|
|He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.|
|Bert, who sadly developed a brain tumour and died|
27 February 2004. A fine old gentleman.
|Sophie - Barbara Baxter's dog. She was taken from a shed with terrible injuries to her feet. Could only crawl on her elbows. Had a few good years before passing on to "Rainbow Bridge."||Minstrel - A gentle giant who lived with Pat Graham for many years before passing on. R.I.P. big boy.|
|Heidi, Pats' lovely old girl now gone to "Rainbow Bridge."||Spot. She was sexually abused but had many happy years with Pat before passing on. See her poem on this site.|
|Showey, my beloved boy died 2/29/04 at 14 years old. For ten years he saved me, more than I ever saved him.|
It wasn't all that long ago
I ran the dusty track for show,
Devoted and driven, my face pierced the wind
As race after race I fought to contend.
Slow at the turn and lacking in grace
I did what I could, but I never placed.
I loved to run and hear the crowds roar
But the cheers turned to boos when I didn't score.
Folks lost their money when they bet on me,
They called me a looser, said "retire number three".
I had no idea what I was likely to find
As I walked from the track for the very last time.
My person was waiting, eyes hard, face long,
I sensed inside the sadness, this time I wouldn't go home.
I tried to change my person's mind
And wagged my mighty tail
But I knew, deep down, without a doubt
Just like racing I had failed.
We drove along a country road till we came upon a town
Where, errected of the main road was a place known as "the pound".
A pretty woman came outside and took me from my crate,
My person signed the papers and looked me in the face.
He said "I'm sorry, I have to leave you here and have you put to sleep,
You're not as fast as all the others, you no longer earn your keep".
I felt my heart break into bits as I walked with head bowed low,
I knew that it was over, I had no place to go.
Inside the dingy building, I was checked and tagged and weighed
A voice said, "We'll put him down tomorrow, if not today".
I heard the pretty woman say, "Don't look him in the eye,
He has that Greyhound gaze that says I do not want to die".
They put me in a kennel, with others on death row
I lay down on the concrete, and moaned so soft and low.
As morning filtered through the glass I stretched my weary bones
The pretty woman came to me and said, "It's time to go".
The hall was long and dark and cold, I did not cry or weep,
I used my eyes and face and soul, to halt eternal sleep.
She tried her best to use defence, and look away from me,
She seemed to know how wrong it was to do this deadly deed.
She bent down close and held my face against her silken cheek,
The needle entered my front leg, and quickly I felt weak.
I heard the pretty woman sob as she laid me on the floor,
I saw a last glimpse of her, and then I saw no more.
I may not have been the fastest dog to ever run the track
I just wish someone had loved me, so I could have loved them back.