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Rainbow Bridge 2008


sea4th
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I thought it might be nice, in this last month of 2008, to say one final farewell, to remember, to heal, all those who've gone on to the Bridge in 2008. One way or another, we're better for having had them in our lives, and they deserve this last memorial.

 

For me:

 

Flick. By far the hardest for me to let go of. It's been too difficult for me to write her own memorial on these boards. Can't completely comprehend that she is gone. I stand holding the door open as the pack runs inside. Once they are inside, I'm still standing by the door. There is one missing. Flick, who I realize will never be running through that door again.

 

My heart, Pete's daughter, Flick was everything good. We had an unspoken communication when she was alive. She died way too soon, but I guess nothing in this life is guaranteed, but d--n, I was looking forward to another few years with her. I am surrounded by my other dogs, but the hole her death has left in my life, I'm still really hurting. Flick died the end of September.

 

My Flick -- I love you, my Flick Flack Paddy Whack.

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Tib. The dog with the Marty Feldman eyes and Louis Armstrong voice. I'm glad I was able to make her last years as happy as possible, but Tib I think would have been happiest being a useful working dog. I was able to provide some of that for her, even when she was losing her hearing and her sight. I only wish that others before me would have seen her value as a working dog. They did, but in another way. Her uterus and bloodlines were far more valuable I guess. I miss you Tib, but I know you're happier now than you've ever been. Tib died in July.

 

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Then there was Sam. He came to me about 3 yrs. ago. I took him sight unseen. This was one of those situations that I learned that too many people out there will try to pass off a black and white dog as a border collie. I learned from that one. There was something else in Sam besides border collie. His size, his behavior --- didn't add up. But I took him. He bit me in that first year and I wound up in the hospital for 2 days on IV's, yet in an 11th hour decision, I decided not to euthanize him, but work with him. He responded beautifully and although he was still nuts, we really made some progress with him. I took on this responsibility knowing that I could never place him, that when he'd leave my house, it would be on his final journey. That came in May of this year, on my birthday in fact. I was bringing him in by the collar as I've done for years without issue. Lately, he had been resisting a lot of the things he learned and he began to buck, twist and growl that day when I led him by the collar to be fed. I had his collar in my right hand. With my left hand, I shook my finger at him telling him to knock it off. He lunged at my hand and bit me. To make a long story short, I wound up in ER again on that day and had surgery to fix my pinkie finger. I now have 3 pins and a plate in it and a long scar and a permanent bend to it, although slight. I would have even reconsidered euthanizing him then, but Sam became quite scary, grabbing the lead and going up the leash toward my hand growling. In June, I had him euthanized. I'm waffling now between being his betrayer or doing him one last kindness. I'd like to think it was the latter. It's not his fault.

 

You were a good boy Sam. You couldn't help whatever start you had in this life, but we tried, didn't we, boy.

 

Sam:

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Finally, an animal who was nameless, but deserved so much better, one who in his last hours on earth, made a change in my life and hopefully in the life of others. My hope is that more tears had been shed for his or her plight than will ever be shed for the bastards who did this to him.

Wouldn't it be nice to think that once he or she crossed, he became restored to the noble creature that horses are, never again to know starvation, running with the wind blowing back his mane and tail. That's a comforting visual, and if it is, he deserves it.

 

Brown horse with no name:

 

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That's a lovely idea, Vicki. Sadly, it could be a very long thread - so many precious dogs have left this year.

 

My goofy, mad professor, Fergus (Dellhousie Mr Kyte TD ET), was one who left way too soon. Only 6 and three-quarters, he died from accidental poisoning - best I can tell, he ate a dahlia tuber. Whatever it was it was a very powerful neurotoxin. Our house is very quiet now, especially on garbage day - for some reason the rustle of te plastic trash bag would send him barking mad, and Kirra would get so cross with him. She misses her mad zoomies companion, and misses the many opportunities she had for teasing him and messing with his head. I miss him sleeping with his head on the pillow next to me. My friends miss the general goofiness and great loving that he gave.

 

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Honey.jpg

 

I knew I would miss her, I just didn't realize how deep it would go. I took for granted the little jobs My Honey Girl did on a daily basis. It is not what you folks with working dogs would call work, but my girl took it on as her job. I could leave food out and Honey would let me know if one of the gang was trying to counter surf. I have lost 3 steaks, a pot of soup, loaves of bread (yes, I am a slower learner and George is very fast). She would walk the house at night to make sure everyone was in their beds and the house was secure. If someone was locked outside, in the basement, in the attic, or a room, Honey would let me know. If you were sick she comforted you. She was the first to alert me someone was not well. It didn't matter people or critter, she knew. Sometimes at night I swear I hear her walking the house. When I call the dogs in I still call her name. It is such a habit. I miss you my love.

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Toby July 1st 1997-January 8th 2008

 

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Toby tubs... you were the best and bravest boy ever. You made us laugh with your goofy antics and silly tricks and will miss all your "I love you's”, gentle nudges reminding us of supper times, and treat times... and I'd like to go out times .. and then the woof's to come back in. Will miss the feel of those beautiful big brown eyes staring at me telepathically trying to tell me what it was you wanted..

(Most likely a treat)

I miss our long walks and silent conversations. Miss your beautiful warm fuzzy face and quite comfort.

You have left a huge hole in my heart and the house felt less like a home with out you. When we lost you

No one ran to greet me at the door, and no happy waggy bum was glad I was home from work. Life was just not the same.

 

You were such a trooper, you tried so hard to keep going but your old bones betrayed you and your knee joints gave out. We knew it was time, even though it broke our hearts in to a million pieces we had to let you go with the dignity you deserved. We miss you dearly I hope you are indeed off running around pain free and goofy as a puppy again in the happy hunting grounds of doggy heaven. I am sure as always you are stalking and trying to herd your arch nemesis the back yard squirrellys!!!

Good-bye old boy...

we still love you and always will.

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Missy (my "heart dog"): 1994-2008

 

TheGirlsCroppped.jpg

 

There were others, that much is true,

But they be they, and they aren't you.

And I, fair, impartial, or so I thought,

Will remember well all you've taught.

Your place I'll hold, you will be missed,

The fur I stroked, the nose I kissed.

And as you journey to your final rest,

Take this with you....I loved you best.

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We lost my husband's red and white 14 year old BC this summer. Blaze was a very special dog who excelled in agility despite immune problems when he was young and seizures in his middle age. He lived to play and even the day before his body shut down, he was rolling tennis balls back to me when he could nolonger stand and catch them. We love you Blaze!

Barb S

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Phoenix.jpg

Questor's Fox View Phoenix

CD MX MXJ AD U-AG II OAC OAJ CGC TDI

6/27/94 - 3/19/08

Phoenix exemplified the Golden Retriever breed - beautiful, athletic, graceful, biddable, patient, comical, and stoic... She was every bit of that right up until her last day on earth, when a silent urethral tumour made it necessary to say a rushed goodbye. Never having puppies of her own, Auntie Phoenix took every new Golden or Border Collie puppy under her wing to raise. A little too "creative" for the repetitive nature of obedience training, Phoenix started me on my "agility journey"; and her crazy immune system was a driving force behind my discovery of a healthy alternative to feeding and caring for my dogs (raw food and minimal vaccination). Phoenix was a true Princess with a heart of gold. Rest well, my fair and faithful friend, until we meet again.

Laurie

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Briggs AKA Red Dog

January 29, 1997 - January 12, 2008

 

Death ends a life, not a relationship.

 

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Best. Dog. Ever.

 

RDM

There's something about this picture that just touches my soul. Rest easy, Briggs.

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That would have been just weeks before he died, as his face is all droopy on the right hand side ... that happened in December, I believe, and he died the following month. And by then he was tube shaped from the steroids, and his coat had lost all its luster and density ... but he was still beautiful to me.

 

He was magical!

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RDM

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That would have been just weeks before he died, as his face is all droopy on the right hand side ... that happened in December, I believe, and he died the following month. And by then he was tube shaped from the steroids, and his coat had lost all its luster and density ... but he was still beautiful to me.

 

He was magical!

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RDM

He was beautiful. He obviously touched your soul too. I'm so sorry for your loss.

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  • 4 weeks later...
Wouldn't it be nice to think that once he or she crossed, he became restored to the noble creature that horses are, never again to know starvation, running with the wind blowing back his mane and tail.

For a brief moment in time, a Brown Horse With No Name knew caring and compassion. In that moment, you and he formed a bond, one that will prevail beyond this veil of existence. And when the time comes for you to cross the Bridge with all your friends that are waiting for you, you will not be walking; instead, you will be riding a sleek, powerful, majestic brown horse, with Flick leading the way...

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... but he was still beautiful to me.

I have no pictures of Missy at the end. The combination of the cancer and Cushing's Disease robbed her of her magnificent coat (although her tail still looked like a flag waving in the breeze), and she became increasingly thin and underweight. But she was still beautiful to us; for what made her special was not her long, flowing black-and-white coat, but rather her love, her gentleness, and her indomitable spirit. I think that your statement would be true of anyone who truly loved a dog; disease can rob a dog of its looks, but it can never diminish that which makes a dog special in the first place. Love does not reside in the optic nerve; it resides in the heart, and in the memories that can never be taken away from us.

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DSCF8941kl.jpg

 

My mum was always at war with her body (losing her husband to a sixteen-year-old didn't help) so she really didn't like being photographed. Since I don't like it either, I rarely bothered her with the camera. Now I really wish there were more pictures. But who'd have thought I'd need them at the end of 2008?

There must be some middle ground between taking someone for granted like I did with her, and feeling paranoid of fate like I do now, but so far I'm not finding it. Maybe we can't really live there?

 

And it's as solid as a rock

Rolling down a hill

The fact is that it probably will

hit something

On the hazardous terrain

 

And we're just following the flock 'round

And in between

Before we're smashed to smithereens

like they were

And we scramble from the blame...

 

(The Last Shadow Puppets, "My Mistakes Were Made For You")

 

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Kyla's arrival was a new start for my mum. Being self-employed made it hard for her to stop working in the evening, and I had limited success with dragging her outside. Once you have a dog, you HAVE to go outside. She lost weight and began going higher up the mountains again. It was difficult for her after sitting around for so long, but she was tremendously strong-willed. Mountain heights are relative, and her walking up to where she did with us would have equalled myself climbing far above the three thousand meter mark, which I never have done so far. She still wanted to do so much more.

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Max 7/94 to 12/07

 

Breaking the rules a bit since it was 12.17.07, but I doubt anyone here will mind.

 

Max rode home with me as a pup a bit on the dirty side. I remember giving him a bath and thinking how cute my fluffy little furball was. I spent that first night sleeping on the floor wth him because he missed his mommy. I picked his brother up a week later and they we best pals til the end. Max and Tosh were sooo different....Max loved everyone, Tosh was dads boy. Max was a little rough around the edges, Tosh always seemed so graceful. Max always had a kiss ready for anyone willing to get close enough, and even for those who we not quite ready. He loved to be outside and just soak up the smells and sounds around him. One weekend he could barely make it around the yard before he would lay down. I took him to the vet and they diagnosed him with cancer...they said a few weeks to a couple days were all I could expect. He went downhill so fast and was put down three days later. I had the vet come to the house to put him down since he hated being anywhere near the vets office. He lifted his head just before the passed as if to thank me for making the pain go away. I couldn;t say his name for weeks without crying. As you can see he adopted my son as if he were his own. He followed him everywhere he went and kissed him every chance he had. His brother Tosh is still with me, but was diagnosed with CRF about a year ago. I'm thankful for every day I have with him since they were both such a HUGE part of my life. We will miss you forever Max.

 

 

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  • 2 weeks later...
  • 2 weeks later...

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Rest in peace, Janie. Know that you were loved, even if we only had you a short time.

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