These
beautiful poems have been passed down from people who
savored their lives with their dogs. My thanks to them
for expressing so perfectly their companions' sacred passage
into the next realm - that state in which they truly live
with us forever.
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For The Dog Be Well Remembered If
Sometimes he leaps through your dreams, actual, as in life,
Eyes kindling, laughing, begging -
It matters not where that dog sleeps.
On a hill where the wind is un-rebuked and the trees are roaring,
Or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood,
Or somewhere in the flatness of a pastureland
where exhilarating cattle graze.
It is all one to a dog, and one to you,
Nothing is gained and nothing lost--If memory lives.
There is but one best place to bury a dog.
If you bury him in this spot, 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 may call a dozen living dogs to heel,
They shall not growl at him, nor resent him for coming,
For he belongs there.
People may scoff, who see no slightest blade of grass
bent by his favorite ball,
Who hear no rustle, no footsteps or his wimper,
People who have never really had a dog.
A
Place Reserved
They will not
go quietly, the pets who've shared our lives.
In subtle ways they let us know their spirit still survives.
Old habits still can make us think we hear them at the door.
Our feet still go around the place the food dish used to be,
And, sometimes, coming home at night, we miss them terribly.
And although time may bring new friends and a new food dish
to fill,
That one place in our hearts belongs to them ... and always
will.
When
I Grow Old With My Dogs
I shall wear Turquoise
and soft gray sweatshirts...
and a bandana over my silver hair.....
and I shall spend my Social Security Checks on
Sweet Wine and My Dogs......
and sit in my house on my well-worn chair
and listen to my dog's breathing.
I will sneak out
in the middle of a warm Summer night
and take my dogs for a run, if my old bones will allow...
and when people come to call,
I will smile and nod as I show them my dogs...
and talk of them and about them...
The Ones so Beloved of the Past
and the Ones so Beloved of Today....
I still will work
hard cleaning after them
and mopping and feeding them
and whispering their names in a soft, loving way…
I will wear the gleaming sweat on my throat, like a jewel
and I will be an embarrassment to all...
and my family...
who have not yet found the peace
in being free to have dogs as your Best Friends....
These friends who always wait, at any hour, for your footfall...
and eagerly jump to their feet out of a sound sleep,
to greet you as if you are a god.
With warm eyes full of adoring love and hope that you will stay
and hug their big, strong necks...
and kiss their dear sweet heads...
and whisper to their very special company...
I look in the
Mirror...
and see I am getting old....
this is the kind of woman I am...
and have always been.
Loving dogs is
easy,
they are part of me,
accept me for who I am,
my dogs appreciate my presence in their lives...
when I am old this will be important to me...
you will understand when you are old....
and if you have dogs to love too.
~Author Unknown
