A good dog never dies
she always stays
she walks beside you
on crisp autumn days
when frost is on the fields
and winter's drawing near
her head is within our hand
in her old way.
-- Mary Carolyn Davies
Donations have been made to
Airedale Rescue in memory of . . .
. . . SAUCI, who crossed The Rainbow Bridge on November 18, 2002, and was dearly loved by Phyllis & Don Read
LEND ME A PUP
I will lend to you for awhile,
a puppy, God said,
For you to love him while he lives
and to mourn for him when he is gone.
Maybe for twelve or fourteen years,
or maybe for two or three
But will you, till I call him back
take care of him for me?
He'll bring his charms to gladden you
and (should his stay be brief)
you'll always have his memories
as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise that he will stay,
since all from earth return,
But there are lessons taught below
I want this pup to learn.
I've looked the whole world over
in search of teachers true
And from the folks that crowd life's land
I have chosen you.
Now will you give him all your love
Nor think the labor vain
Nor hate me when I come to take my pup back again.
I fancied that I heard them say
"Dear Lord Thy Will Be Done",
For all the joys this pup will bring,
the risk of grief you'll run.
Will you shelter him with tenderness
Will you love him while you may
And for the happiness you'll know,
forever grateful stay.
But should I call him back
much sooner than you've planned
Please brave the bitter grief that comes
and try to understand.
If, by your love, you've managed
my wishes to achieve,
In memory of him that you've loved,
cherish every moment with your faithful bundle,
and know he loved you too.
-- Author Unknown
. . . INDIANA (Encore Defiant of Shawndee), who will be greatly missed by Karen Clouston.
. . . McGWIN (Ironcroft's Good'Nuff McDuff CD), missed by AmyMarie & Robert Fornelli and Family. On 15 January 2003, AmyMarie writes:
McGwin died this morning. Last night he lost the ability to walk. Took me ages to get him up the stairs and into the house. Vet did not have good news. A really sad day.
. . . SARA, October 10, 1999-May 7, 2001, beloved Airedale of Dee McAlpine
A PARTING PRAYER
Dear Lord, please open your gates and call St. Francis to come escort this beloved companion across The Rainbow Bridge.
Assign her to a place of honor, for she has been a faithful servant and has always done her best to please me.
Bless the hands that send her to you, for they are doing so in love and compassion, freeing her from pain and suffering.
Grant me the strength not to dwell on my loss. Help me remember the details of her life with the love she has shown me. And grant me the courage to honor her by sharing those memories with others.
Let her remember me as well and let her know that I will always love her. And when it's my time to pass over into your paradise, please allow her to accompany those who will bring me home.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of her companionship and for the time we've had together.
And thank you, Lord, for granting me the strength to give her to you now.
Amen
-- Brandy Duckworth, 1998
. . . PEPPER, who crossed The Rainbow Bridge on September 6, 2002 and will be greatly missed by L. Col. Marwood Goetz & Helen M. Goetz
. . . TEDDY, who crossed The Rainbow Bridge in December 2002, and is greatly missed by Sherry Karas
. . . AEMON, who crossed The Rainbow Bridge on December 29, 2002, and will be greatly missed by Sue Forrester & Bill Molyneux, who write:
Our little Aussie battler, Aemon Forrester-Molyneux, has gone to the High Wild Country to be with Emma and Aaron and all the airespirits gathered there.
We could not know that our last few days in the glorious high country, as we celebrated our ritual of Christmas amid the snow meadows, the bright flowers, the wild free winds and the sunsparkling streams, would also be Aemon's own final days with us.
There were more shortbread biscuits put out at Memory Rock than ever before. As we gathered Alice, Aemon & Baby Ascha around the Rock, listening to Bill read another chapter of Emma's Journey as we always do, the soft breeze blew airekisses in our faces, whispering secrets we could only hear as murmurs.
Perhaps they knew, all of them . . . Aaron, Emma, Airlie and Meggy Bear, June, Kugel, Doctor and Emma, Misha, little Dugan, Betty, Livingstone and all of the friends during the year, even the newest arrivals, Tweed and DJ and Taffy and little baby Ole Olsson . . . that the brightest moments of Aemon's candle were flaring for us then.
Daily he bounded amongst the snowgums and the rocks, scampered over the snowgrass, splashed in the streams, bashed and teased Alice and Ascha, danced and playbowed around our campsite, sought his hidden treats in the morning games with Bill, played hide and seek with energy and inventiveness, and at night, after eating dinner with gusto, curled up cosily in sound sleep on our bed. The extraordinary intensity of his energy struck us so often that we made frequent comment about it each day. There was magic in his joy.
What can we say to you, who loved him so, who somehow - in another hemisphere - took this boy of ours and made him your own. You walked beside us nearly two years ago as we fought for his life in the struggle with Haemolytic Anaemia. Most of you did not know that two years previously to that, he had battled and overcome a brain tumour so invasive he was given six weeks only to live.
And a year ago he again teetered on the edge with a gastric infection so severe that he barely survived. His great will triumphed, and he shone once more, filling our days with laughter, with love so deep and with trust so profound that he simply held us in his thrall.
Then out of the blue, whilst playing with us in a remote snowplain, new to us all, his wonky mechanics produced another acute gastric condition that was beyond repair. And on Sunday 29 December, 2002, at 6:00 p.m., his great heart and his beautiful deep eyes and his weary little body heard the call from the High Wild Country.
We held him and kissed him, and he kissed us back. He knew we were with him and his eyes held us in their depths.
He has taken our hearts with him.
DEATH IS NOTHING AT ALL . . .
DEATH is nothing at all. I have
only slipped away into the next room.
I am I, and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
that we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
speak to me in the easy way which
you always used. Put no difference
in your tone, wear no forced air
of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the
little jokes we enjoyed together.
Pray, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was, let it be spoken without effect,
without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was;
there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near, just around the corner . . .
All is well . . .
-- Harry Scott Holland, 1847-1918
Canon of St Paul's Cathedral
. . . HANNAH, who crossed The Rainbow Bridge in April 2003, and is greatly missed by Rita Ferrer, who writes:
I want to write to you all about dear Hannah.
Hannah came to our family after Annette Hall (ATRA) called and said, "We have an elderly female who needs a foster home. She has medical problems but is the cutest little sprite. You will love her."
Hannah came into rescue as a 36-pound starved & filthy dog dropped off at a shelter. She had numerous medical problems but had such a sparkling Airedale personality all the rescue volunteers who met her were charmed by her. She could hardly stand when the ATRA people took her from the shelter. In about a week, after vet care & transport from Ohio, I picked her up. I fell in love at first sight. She was a petite little thing and cute as a button. She wobbled around just fine and as the days progressed she was trotting all over the yard.
In her 40 days as part of our family, she chacha-danced her way further and further into our hearts. She played with the boyz on her tippy toes even though she was half their size. She danced for me whenever I came home or she felt it was time to eat. She ate lots and gained weight and her coat started looking shiny. She didn't like dogbeds but did like to make nests in comforters so I had comforters on the floor in many strategic locations throughout the house. I would find her curled next to me whenever/wherever I was. She loved to be petted.
Late in the weekend, she started to act disoriented and not very social. Yesterday I took her to our vet. She had gained almost seven pounds and everyone commented on how healthy she looked. But something was wrong. Her eyes, though covered with cataracts, had been seeing pretty well; yesterday at the vets she had no response to light in her retinas. Dr. E said she was almost completely blind. It seemed awful sudden but we couldn't find any specific reason. She came home and chacha&##45;danced for dinner. I took her outside and we walked. I started training the boyz to help her find her way around the yard and back in the house. "We can do this . . . there are lots of blind dogs that have very wonderful lives."
But it was not to be. When I took her out at 9:30, she & I made three trips around the yard and then she suddenly started seizing. She never stopped; with a neighbor's help I got her to the vet's office where we helped her find peace.
I hope she finds her way to the High Wild Country . . . after meeting Sue it sure seemed like the most heaven-like place you would ever wish for as a destination for a loved one.
I do know that the little sprite danced her way into my heart in 40 short days and the house is horribly empty without her. I will miss her very much.
Please watch for her star in the sky and send love her way.
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AIREDALES IN MEMORIAM, PAGE 13