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
Because it’s the prayer that we must all say when we lose one we love. Mr B and Midwest Chick have had to make the hardest decision. Go and give them some love.
I’ve lost five canine friends over the course of my nearly 50 years on this earth, and it gets tougher each time. Ave atque vale, canis lupus familiaris.
I put my own down on Friday. The house is much emptier without her. After she was down, and the body at rest, the vet could detect tumors we didn’t know about yet. It was the right thing to do, but just once, I would like my dog to die in its sleep at the foot of my bed, dreaming of chasing squirrels and bunnies and sneaking bacon off the kitchen table.
Sorry for your loss, Prof. What I said to Mr B and Midwest Chick is true for all dog lovers; we are priveleged to be their caretakers while they are here, and you discharged your duty with honor and dignity and love. Anyone don’t get that isn’t a human in my book.
He’s my other eyes that can see above the clouds.
My other ears that hear above the winds.
He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea.
He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being;
By the way he rests against my leg;
By the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile;
By the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him.
(I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.)
When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive.
When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile.
When I am happy, he is joy unbound.
When I am a fool, he ignores it.
When I succeed, he brags.
Without him, I am only another person.
With him I am all-powerful.
He is loyalty itself.
He has taught me the meaning of devotion.
With him, I know a secret comfort and private peace.
He has brought to me understanding where before I was ignorant.
His head on my knee can heal my human hurts.
His presence by my side is protection
against my fears of dark and unknown things.
He has promised to wait for me…whenever…wherever…in case I need him.
And I expect I will – As I always have.
He is just my dog.
– Gene Hill
I can’t think of anything that brings me closer to tears than when my old dog—completely exhausted after a hard day in the field—limps away from her nice spot in front of the fire and comes over to where I’m sitting and puts her head in my lap, a paw over my knee, and closes her eyes, and goes back to sleep. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that kind of friend.
– Gene Hill
Haven’t had a dog since I was a kid, but I’ve had cats my entire adult life until a couple years ago. When you work long hours it’s not right to leave a dog alone. Had to make the final decision for all but one of them (who just keeled over one morning, my wife called me and he was gone before I got there). The last one lived to be over 20.
No Heaven will ever Heaven be, unless my cats are there to welcome me.