We all lose dogs... It just goes without saying.
We lose the great ones, the not so great ones, and the one's that just can't seem to get with the program, but they all earn a place in our hearts, and leave a huge hole in it when they leave us.
For dog folks, we're never very far away from the sad day that is inevitably to come. We enter the game knowing full well the outcome, but we do it time and again regardless!
I received the bad news this week that my friend Deb had lost her good friend, Finn McCool at the age of fourteen years. Now, that seems like a good run for a dog, but it's a two edged sword... Yes, we've held them close to us for a good long time, but that makes it all the more difficult to let go.
So, my heart goes out to Deb and Al in their time of grief... There's nothing to be said to ease the pain..
They have posted a great tribute to Finn on their blogsite, and I hope everyone goes there to read about, and honor the life in words and pictures, of a great gundog, and just as importantly, a fine and loyal companion...
Godspeed... Finn McCool
A Piece of the Purest Challenge
Rudyard Kipling said it quite well what losing a dog means to many of us..
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?