Precious Pet Time
I am your dog, and I have a little something I'd like to whisper in your ear. I know that you humans lead busy lives. Some have to work, some have children to raise. It always seems like you are running here and there, often much too fast, often never noticing the truly grand things in life.

Look down at me now, while you sit there at your computer. See the way my dark brown eyes look at yours? They are slightly cloudy now. That comes with age. The gray hairs are beginning to ring my soft muzzle.

You smile at me; I see love in your eyes. What do you see in mine? Do you see a spirit? A soul inside, who loves you as no other could in the world? A spirit that would forgive all trespasses of prior wrong doing for just a simple moment of your time? That is all I ask.

To slow down, if even for a few minutes to be with me. So many times you have been saddened by the words you read on that screen, of other of my kind, passing.

Sometimes we die young and oh so quickly, sometimes so suddenly it wrenches your heart out of your throat. Sometimes, we age so slowly before your eyes that you may not even seem to know until the very end, when we look at
you with grizzled muzzles and cataract clouded eyes. Still the love is always there, even when we must take that long sleep, to run free in a distant land.

I may not be here tomorrow; I may not be here next week. Someday you will shed the water from your eyes, that humans have when deep grief fills their souls, and you will be angry at yourself that you did not have just "One more day" with me. Because I love you so, your sorrow touches my spirit and grieves me. We have NOW, together.

So come, sit down here next to me on the floor, and look deep into my eyes. What do you see? If you look hard and deep enough we will talk, you and I, heart to heart.

Come to me not as "alpha" or as "trainer" or even "Mom or Dad," come to me as a living soul and stroke my fur and let us look deep into one another's eyes, and talk. I may tell you something about the fun of chasing a tennis ball, or I may tell you something profound about myself, or even life in general. You decided to have me in your life because you wanted a soul to share such things with. Someone very different from you, and here I am.

I am a dog, but I am alive. I feel emotion, I feel physical senses, and I can revel in the differences of our spirits and souls. I do not think of you as a "Dog on two feet" -- I know what you are. You are human, in all your quirkiness, and I love you still.

Now, come sit with me, on the floor. Enter my world, and let time slow down if only for 15 minutes. Look deep into my eyes, and whisper to my ears Speak with your heart, with your joy and I will know your true self. We may not have tomorrow, and life is oh so very short. -- Love, (on behalf of canines everywhere)
 

Golden Lucky and Mary
Mary and her husband Jim had a dog, Lucky. Lucky was a real character. Whenever Mary and Jim had company come for a weekend visit they would warn their friends to not leave their luggage open because Lucky would help himself to whatever struck his fancy. Inevitably someone would forget and something would come up missing. Mary or Jim would go to Lucky's toy box in the basement and there the treasure would be, amid all of Lucky's favorite toys. Lucky always stashed his finds in his toy box and he was very particular that his toys stay in the box.
   
It happened that Mary found out she had breast cancer. Something told her she was going to die of this disease ... she was just sure it was fatal. She scheduled the double mastectomy, fear riding her shoulders. The night before she was to go to the hospital she cuddled with Lucky. A thought struck her... what would happen to Lucky? Although the three year old dog liked Jim, he was Mary's dog through and through. If I die, Lucky will be abandoned, Mary thought. He won't understand that she didn't want to leave him. The thought made her sadder than thinking of her own death. The double mastectomy was harder on Mary than her doctors had anticipated and Mary was hospitalized for over two weeks.
   
Jim took Lucky for his evening walk faithfully but the dog just drooped, whining and miserable. But finally the day came for Mary to leave the hospital. When she arrived home, Mary was so exhausted she couldn't even make it up the steps to her bedroom. Jim made his wife comfortable on the couch and left her to nap. Lucky stood watching Mary, but he didn't come to her when she called. It made Mary sad but sleep soon overcame her and she dozed.
   
When Mary woke for a second she couldn't understand what was wrong. She couldn't move her head and her body felt heavy and hot. Panic soon gave way to laughter though when Mary realized the problem ... She was covered, literally blanketed, in every treasure Lucky owned! While she had slept the sorrowing dog had made trip after trip to the basement and back bringing his beloved mistress his favorite things in life. He had covered her with his love.
   
Mary forgot about dying. Instead she and Lucky began living again, walking further and further together every night. It's been 12 years now and Mary is still cancer-free. And, Golden Lucky? He still steals treasures and stashes them in his toy box but Mary remains his greatest treasure.
 

A Letter from Mom to her Furbabies
Dear Fur-Children,
When Mom says to move, it means go someplace else, not switch positions so that you are still in the way. Your brown eyes will not win you the best seat in the house. Just because Mom went to get a glass of water doesn't mean you have next dibs on her seat.
   
The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of Mom's plate and food does not stake your claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor does Mom find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.
   
The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating Mom to the bottom is not the object. Tripping Mom doesn't help, because Mom falls faster than you can run. So don't complain when your paw or tail gets injured. Mom's cast is a far more serious result of your need to go fast.
   
Mom cannot buy anything bigger than a king size bed. She is very sorry about this. Do not think Mom will continue to sleep on the couch to ensure your comfort. Look at videos of dogs sleeping; they can actually curl up in a ball. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. Mom also knows that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space used is nothing but doggy sarcasm.
   
The proper order is kiss Mom, go smell other dog's butt. Mom cannot stress this enough. And, please do not drag your butt on the carpet, and if you must throw-up then look for the linoleum, and if you have a butt cling-on do not hide under the bed.
   
Much love to you my good buddy. It helps that you are a perfect listener when it doesn't involve anything you have done. That you share your body heat unconditionally. That you seem to have a permanent grin. That your eyelids flap when you hang your head out the car window. That you have a strength and endurance I can only envy. And that you have taught me that there is a time to work a time, to play, and a time to rest. Goldens really are a best friend, and I swear you understand every word I say.
Love, Mom

 

New Book of Genesis answers "Where do pets come from?"
Adam and Eve said, "Lord, when we were in the garden, you walked with us every day. Now we do not see you anymore. We are lonesome here and it is difficult for us to remember how much you love us." And G-d said, "No problem! I will create a companion for you that will be with you forever and who will be a reflection of my love for you, so that you will love me even when you cannot see me. Regardless of how selfish or childish or unlovable you may be, this new companion will accept you as you are and will love you as I do, in spite of yourselves."
   
And G-d created a new animal to be a companion for Adam and Eve. And it was a good animal. And G-d was pleased. And the new animal was pleased to be with Adam and Eve and he wagged his tail. And Adam said, "Lord, I have already named all the animals in the Kingdom and I cannot think of a name for this new animal." And G-d said, "No problem. Because I have created this new animal to be a reflection of my love for you, his name will be a reflection of my own name, and you will call him DOG."
   
And Dog lived with Adam & Eve and was a companion to them and loved them. And they were comforted. And G-d was pleased. And Dog was content & wagged his tail.
   
After a while, it came to pass that an angel came to the Lord and said, "Lord, Adam & Eve have become filled with pride. They strut and preen like peacocks and they believe they are worthy of adoration. Dog has indeed taught them that they are loved, but perhaps too well." And G-d said, "No problem! I will create for them a companion who will be with them forever & who will see them as they are. The companion will remind them of their limitations, so they will know that they are not always worthy of adoration."
   
And G-d created CAT to be a companion to Adam and Eve. And Cat would not obey them. And when Adam and Eve gazed into Cat's eyes, they were reminded that they were not the supreme beings. And Adam and Eve learned humility. And they were greatly improved. And G-d was pleased. And Dog was happy. And Cat didn't give a darn one way or the other.   

 

A 'Golden' Zest for Life
Don't take this the wrong way, but for the longest time now, I have been trying to imitate my dog. Not his look, which is furry and chestnut brown. Not his walk, which, as with most Golden Retrievers, is more of a waddle. And not his tail. I don't need a tail. I have enough trouble buckling my pants as it is.
   
Also, I can live without his bathroom habits, which can be summed up this way: "Tree or bush? Tree or bush? Aw, how about right here on the grass . . ."
   
No, what I admire about my dog is his fascination with the simple routine of life. Every day for him is like boarding the space shuttle. For example: In the morning, I tumble out of bed, grumble, yawn, look at the foot of the bed, and ta-da! There he is, the canine answer to Richard Simmons. He is so worked up, he doesn't know which way to go, toward me or away from me. So he does both. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy!" he seems to pant. "It's morning & I'm gonna eat!"
   
Never mind that he has eaten every morning since he was born. Or that he's had the same food every morning since he was born—& that was 11 years ago.
   
Never mind. He pulls me downstairs and waits breathlessly as I scoop yet another helping of boring brown nuggets into his bowl. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Food, food, food!" I yawn.
   
Three minutes later, he is off the food thing and into a new obsession: going out. Again, he runs forward and backward. "I'm going out! I'm going out! Is this great or what?"
   
Never mind that going out has not changed one bit since we've lived here. He is so thrilled by the notion of "exit" that he almost bites the doorknob off. He bolts into the backyard as if heading for Tomorrowland with a sack full of "E" tickets. I slouch and yawn again. The great outdoors.
   
Then comes with the "bathroom" routine, which I already have described. Humans deal with these functions begrudgingly. Not my dog. It's a real thrill for him. He scouts for the perfect spot as if looking for beachfront real estate. "Tree or bush? Tree or bush?" And I don't have that many trees.
   
Then, once his business is taken care of—and I make a mental note where we're going to have to shovel come summer—he is off the going out obsession and onto a new one: going back in.

It doesn't matter than he was in just two minutes ago. "Things have changed! Things have changed!" he seems to pant. "I gotta get in there! I gotta check it out! Hurry up, hurry up!" When I open the door, he bolts in, races back and forth—looking for space aliens, I suppose—and when he doesn't find any, he isn't disappointed. Instead, he snarls at some ratty toy he's played with for months, throws it into the air with his teeth, and watches it land. "Look at that!" he seems to say. "It goes up, it comes down!"

As I make a cup of coffee, he jumps up to watch. "Whatcha doin? Whatcha doin? Coffee, huh? That's amazing!" He then clamps onto my leg and does a dance that, were it the early '50s, I might call the "Hootchie Coo." I am not sure what he gets out of this—"Oh boy, a leg! Oh boy, a leg!"—but he seems to be having a better time than many of the dates I've had. When I disengage and disappear behind a door, he lies down outside and waits for me to come out again. If it is only 30 seconds later, he will still react as if I were a released hostage.

The sunny side. Now, my dog does not work. He does not pay taxes. He does not create anything new (unless you consider the bushes outside). But he also doesn't need clothes, doesn't covet cars or jewelry & doesn't care about houses, as long as he can find a sunny spot on the floor & lie there for a few hours.
   
Meanwhile, I am bored with my same routine. Getting up is a drag. I can't get excited about breakfast. And going out then coming back only makes me wonder how many flies I've let in. So I'm trying to imitate my dog. I'm trying to find wonder in the everyday. After all, when you think about it, it is pretty remarkable that you open your eyes each morning. And since every few hours you get to quench your hunger, well, that's a thrill, when you consider the alternative.
   
So while I can't match my dog's drool, I am trying to match his zeal. Don't worry. If you come to visit, I will not clamp on your leg and do the Hootchie Coo. On the other hand, that sunny spot on the floor looks pretty tempting . . .

 

A Special Welcome
On the morning of September 11, 2001, there was an unprecedented amount of activity at the Rainbow Bridge. Decisions had to be made. They had to be made quickly. And they were. An issue, not often addressed here at the Bridge, is the fact that many residents really have no loved one for whom to wait. Think of the pups who lived and died in hideous puppy mills. No one on earth loved or protected them. What about the many who spent unhappy lives tied in backyards? And, the ones who were abused. Who are they to wait for?
   
We don’t talk about that much up here. We share our loved ones as they arrive, happy to do so. But we all know there is nothing like having your very own person who thinks you are the most special pup in the heavens.
   
Last Tuesday morning a request rang out for pups not waiting for specific persons to volunteer for special assignment. An eager, curious crowd surged excitedly forward, each pup wondering what the assignment would be. They were told by a solemn voice that unexpectedly, all at once, over 6,000 loving people had left Earth long before they were ready. All the pups, as all pups do, felt the humans’ pain deep in their own hearts. Without hearing more, there was a clamoring among them—“May I have one to comfort?” “I’ll take two, I have a big heart.” “I have been saving kisses forever.”
   
One after another they came forward begging for assignment. One cozy looking fluffy pup hesitantly asked, “Are there any children coming? I would be very comforting for a child ’cause I’m soft and squishy and I always wanted to be hugged.”
   
A group of Dalmatians came forward asking to meet the Firemen and be their friends. The larger working breeds offered to greet the Police Officers and make them feel at home. Little dogs volunteered to do what they do best, cuddle and kiss. Dogs who on Earth had never had a kind word or a pat on the head, stepped forward and said, “I will love any human who needs love.”
   
Then, all the dogs, wherever on Earth they originally came from, rushed to the Rainbow Bridge and stood waiting, overflowing with love to share—each tail wagging an American Flag.