In Memory of CC

Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of Heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.

There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine and our friends are warm and comfortable.

AT RAINBOW BRIDGE

There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth.
It is called the Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors.
Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge, there is a land of meadows,
hills and valleys with lush green grass.

When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this place.
There is always food and water and warm Spring weather.
Those old and frail animals are young again.
Those who have been maimed are made whole again.
They play all day with each other.

Some of them here by the Bridge are different.
These pets were beaten, starved, tortured, and unloved.
They watch wistfully as their friends leave one by one,
to cross the bridge with their special person.
For them there is no one, no special one.
Their time on earth did not give them one.

But one day, as they run and play,
they notice someone standing by the road to the bridge.
This person wistfully watches the reunions of friends,
for during life, this person had no pet.
This person was beaten, starved, tortured, and unloved.

Standing there alone, one of the unloved pets approaches,
curious as to why this one is alone.
And as the unloved pet and the unloved person get nearer to each other,
a miracle occurs, for these are the ones who were meant to be together,
the special person and the beloved pet who never had the chance to meet while on Earth.
Finally, now, at the edge of the Rainbow Bridge, their souls meet,
the pain and the sorrow disappears, and two friends are together.

They cross the Rainbow Bridge together, never again to be separated.

Author - Unknown

LET ME GO - Author Unknown

When I come to the end of the road, and the sun has set for me

I want no rites in a gloom-filled room, Why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little - but not too long. And not with your head bowed low,

Remember the love that we once shared. Miss me -- but let me go.

For this is a jourey that we all must take, and each must go alone

It's part of the master plan a step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick of heart, go to the friends we know

And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds, Miss me -- but let me go.

BEAU BRAINARD (RIGHT) 6-20-85 JUST SHY OF HIS 16TH BIRTHDAY.

NOTE FROM THE BRIDGE
author unknown

To my dearest family,
some things I'd like to say.
But first of all, to let you know,
that I arrived okay.

I'm writing this from the Bridge.
Here I dwell with God above.
Here there's no more tears of sadness.
Here is just eternal love.

Please do not be unhappy
just because I'm out of sight.
Remember that I am with you
every morning, noon and night.

That day I had to leave you
when my life on earth was through,
God picked me up and hugged me
and He said, "I welcome you.

It's good to have you back again,
you were missed while you were gone.
As for your dearest family,
They'll be here later on."

God gave me a list of things,
that he wished for me to do.
And foremost on the list,
was to watch and care for you.

And when you lie in bed at night
the day's chores put to flight,
God and I are closest to you...
in the middle of the night.

When you think of my life on earth,
and all those loving years,
because you are only human,
they are bound to bring you tears.

But do not be afraid to cry,
it does relieve the pain.
Remember there would be no flowers,
unless there was some rain.

I wish that I could tell you
all that God has planned.
If I were to tell you,
you wouldn't understand.

But one thing is for certain,
though my life on earth is o'er.
I'm closer to you now,
than I ever was before.

There are rocky roads ahead of you
and many hills to climb;
But together we can do it
by taking one day at a time.

It was always my philosophy
and I'd like it for you too;
That as you give unto the world,
the world will give to you.

If you can help somebody
who's in sorrow and pain;
Then you can say to God at night...
"My day was not in vain."

And now I am contented...
that my life was worthwhile.
Knowing as I passed along
I made somebody smile.

So if you meet somebody
who is sad and feeling low;
Just lend a hand to pick him up,
as on your way you go.

When you're walking down the street
with me on your mind;
I'm walking in your footsteps
only half a step behind.

And when it's time for you to go...
from that body to be free.
Remember you're not going...
you're coming here to me.

-- author unknown

NAKS ALBERT EINSTEIN 06/01/1990 - 05/03/2007

The Old Man and the Dog.

�Jody ~ Watch out! ~ You nearly broad-sided that car!" my father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?" Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back.

At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it.

He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed in to an operating room.

He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor�s orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Rick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Rick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Rick sought out our pastor and explained the situation.

The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. A raindrop struck my cheek. I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere up there was "God"

Although I believe a Supreme Being had created the universe, I had difficulty believing that God cared about the tiny human beings on this earth. I was tired of waiting for a God who did not answer.

Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem in vain to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs - all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons, too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray.

His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly . I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, and then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one ~ Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly. As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"

"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog." I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said. I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly. Dad looked, and then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones.

Keep it! I don't want it." Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house. Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet. Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends.

Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Rick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene; but his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Rick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers..."

"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said. For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article ~ Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter ~ His calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father ~ and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

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Subject: pet adoption

A friend of mine is involved with the GSP Rescue of SW Colorado. They had this poem posted on their website. Thought it was good. Thought I'd share it... Mags

Rainbow Bridge

Lulu Belle II aka Grandma Belle - The Best Dog anyone could ever have:

04/20/91 - 09/19/07

"We give dogs time we can spare, space we can spare and love we can spare, in turn they give us their all. It is the best deal man ever made." M.Facklam

Cinder, my own special Rescue - Lost to us 08/07/08. Age unknown

"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.

"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up."

The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

"Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."

"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in."

"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.

"There should be a bowl by the pump."

"This is Heaven," he answered.

"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said."The man down the road said that was Heaven,too."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's Hell."

"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"

"No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind."

NOT AN ANGEL

******

I adopted your pet today...

The one you left at the pound;

The one you had for ten months/years

And no longer wanted around.

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I adopted your pet today...

Did you know that s/he's lost weight?

Did you know s/he's scared and depressed

And seems to have lost all faith?

******

I adopted your pet today...

S/He had fleas and a little cold;

Guess you don't care what shape s/he's in

You abandoned her/him I am told.

******

I adopted your pet today...

Were you having a baby or moving away?

Did you suddenly develop allergies,

Or was there NO reason s/he couldn't stay?

******

I adopted your pet today...

S/He doesn't play or even eat much;

I guess s/he's very sad inside and

It'll take time for her/him to trust.

******

I adopted your pet today...

And here s/he is going to stay;

S/He's found her/his FOREVER home

And a warm bed in which to lay.

******

I adopted your pet today...

And shall give her/him all that s/he will need

- Patience, love, and security,

So s/he can forget your selfish deed.

******

Author unknown