poems for the loss of our babies, Forest Ostrander [good beach reads .TXT] 📗

/> for granting me the strength
to give her to you now.

Amen.

- © Brandy Duckworth, 1998

A 'SPECIAL PLACE'
You have a special place Dear Lord
that I know you'll always keep
A special place reserved for dogs
when they quietly fall asleep
With large and airy kennels
and a yard for hiding bones
With maybe a little babbling creek
that chatters over stones.
With wide green fields and flowers
for those who never knew
about running freely under
Your sky of perfect blue.
Lord,I know You keep this Special Place
And so to you I Pray,
For one Special Rottweiler
Who quietly died today
She was full of strength & love
and so very, very wise.
The puppy look she once had
Had long since left her eyes.
She is dearly missed my Lord
By a very good friend of mine.
She went to join her ancestors
To Your land that is Devine
So, speak to Crimmy softly please
And give her a warm hello.
She's a Special gift to you Dear Lord
From Brenda, who loved her so.


jan cooper 1994


Another skeptic saw the Bridge

My sweet retriever, Karma, was buried at the pet cemetery today. For three years she lived with cancer, but she lost the battle at the age of 15. Karma looked like a black golden retriever, with long, midnight-black hair, as soft and shiny as mink. She came into my life when she was two months old, and we loved each other more than I can say -- I was her mom, and she was my little girl.

A week before Karma died, I had the vet come to my house because Karma was experiencing pain, and I didn't want Karma to be terrified by taking her to the vet (she'd been there so many times). The vet prescribed pain medicine and said that Karma's time was drawing near, but not yet. The vet also mentioned Rainbow Bridge, which I'd never heard of, but I supposed it was just another name for heaven. By coincidence, a few days later, I found the "Rainbow Bridge" poem on petloss.com. I thought it was a nice story, but I really couldn't believe it, because there was no fact or proof to base my belief upon.

The pain medicine didn't help Karma's pain, and the cancer became more aggressive. Her appetite dwindled, and she wouldn't drink the water I offered her. I could see my baby was suffering, so I called the vet and asked her to come back and free Karma from her pain in the only way that was left -- euthanasia. It was the hardest, most heartbreaking decision I ever had to make in my life.

The funeral was very peaceful. I was alone, except for the funeral director and the gravediggers. Rain was predicted, and I was afraid it would interfere, but it held off until they were shoveling the dirt back into the ground, and it only sprinkled for a few minutes, then stopped.

After the funeral, as I was driving home, heading east, dark gray storm clouds were approaching from the west and accumulating overhead, and it began to rain again. As the raindrops fell on the windshield and the windshield wipers moved back and forth before my eyes, I started thinking about how Karma had suffered during the last week of her life, and I got all teary-eyed, feeling guilty, wondering if I had kept her with me too long before making the decision to let her go. Just then, at that very moment, looking out my windshield I saw on the horizon in the eastern sky, where the sun was still shining between white clouds above the mountains, a rainbow! But it wasn't like any other rainbow I've ever seen. It wasn't in the shape of a curved arc. It looked like a slanted stairway (or a bridge) going from the earth to the sky. I was amazed, and I knew it wasn't just coincidence. It was confirmation. It was fact, and it was proof (to me) that there really is a Rainbow Bridge. And Karma (or God) was letting me know that she's there, and she's all right.

This is a true story.


"Beau"
He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.

When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.

On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.

We would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And it if was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in awhile, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.

We are early-to-bedders at our house --
I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.

He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs
And I'd give him one for awhile.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd fish it out with a smile.

And before very long
He'd tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner
In no time at all.

And there were nights when I'd feel him
Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I'd pat his head.

And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I'd reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh
and I think I know the reason why.

He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.

And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he's not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.


Jimmy Stewart 1908-7/2/97


Boatswain
At the death of 'Boatswain', the Newfoundland who was the trusted friend of Lord Byron, the famed English poet has a monument erected on his grave at Newstead abbey. Then he wrote the following poem, which was etched on one side of the octagonal shaft:

When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who rests below;
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been.
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, the foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master's own,
Who labors, lives, fights, breathes for him alone,
Unhonored falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth.
While man, vain insect, hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole, exclusive heaven.
Ye! Who behold, perchance, this simple urn,
Pass on; it honours none you wish to mourn.
To mark a friend's remains these stones rise,
I have never known but one - and here he lies.


Bruno and the Angel

It was very cold and grey, that long ago day, it was the winter of 83.
December, so I've heard em say.
It was cold and it was grey -
and oh the pain, I remember the pain.

My leg, I can't move it, it's broken I know.
I'd close my eyes and the pain was there.
And the cold, and the cold, and the pain.
How long, oh Lord, oh Lord, how long?
How long did I lie there, oh Lord, how long?
And my leg, and the pain, and the cold, the cold.

But God in Heaven - heard my sad whimper and
an angel she was, I know she was an angel. Her
words were kind and her touch was loving.
And the cold was hurt and the leg was hurt.

But there she was and there she is and my angel
was there and the cold fled away I know not where.
And the pain and leg and the cold and the grey
soon faded and faded and faded away.

And when I awoke there was my angel and her words
were kind and her touch was gentle. And she said to me
she said to me; hello Bruno hello. Here's a friend, friend
Bruno. And his name was Duke and he's all tan and I'm
black and tan and his name is Duke and me, well bless me
so - cause my name is Bruno - my angel said.

And the cold was gone! And the pain was-- well it's not
so bad. Not with a friend and not with my angel. And time
did pass by weeks and days and months and yes, even years.
What's time to me, cause I've my friend Duke and even more
my angel was there and her touch was gentle and her words were
kind - this angel of mine.

And time did pass and pass did time and then one day my angel
did say - here Bruno - here's another friend - friend - and this one
was tall and sorta different - why he's older I thought and bald and
gentle. Gentle is he and bald is he and my angel did say - here Bruno - here's a friend.

And time did pass and pass did time and the bald one and I - well we
had fun. We would drive and ride and now I'm older - but what the
heck - I like his shoulder. And drive and ride and romp and play -
mid fields with cactus and mesquite we go. Baldy and I - both getting
older - but what the heck - I like his shoulder.

And time did pass and pass did time and I'd see that angel of mine.
And then one day - she's sad said I - and then she told me - your
friend dear Bruno - he's gone away to run and play in another time
and another place. And old Duke was gone. Nother