A Dog's Prayer

Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.

When it's cold and wet, please take me inside - for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements - and I ask no greater glory than the privelege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth - though had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all the land - for you are my god - and I am your devoted worshipper.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food, that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.

And, beloved master, should the Great Master see fit to deprive me of my health or sight, do not turn me away from you. Rather hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest.... and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.


by Beth Norman Harris

Wisdom from Hemingway..

I guess I got my love and fascination of quotations from my Mother, and her side of the family. I guess the Welsh are a little more sensitive and thoughtful than their Celtic cousins merely across the straits.. In any case, I enjoy delving into the myriad of meanings that these quotes provide, and how they apply to me at differing periods of my life. So, today we ponder Hemingway...



Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.

He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and of the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them.

Anyone can be a fisherman in May.

Why did they make birds so delicate and fine as those sea swallows when the ocean can be so cruel? She is kind and very beautiful. But she can be so cruel and it comes so suddenly and such birds that fly, dipping and hunting, with their small sad voices are made too delicately for the sea.

Fish, I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you dead before this day ends.

The clouds were building up now for the trade wind and he looked ahead and saw a flight of wild ducks etching themselves against the sky over the water, then blurring, then etching again and he knew no man was ever alone on the sea.

You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food, he thought. You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after. If you love him, it is not a sin to kill him. Or is it more?

It is good that we do not have to try to kill the sun or the moon or the stars. It is enough to live on the sea and kill our true brothers.

A man can be destroyed but not defeated.

Ernest Hemingway from The Old man and the Sea

Kipling on Life..

Here's a great piece of verse from the British novelist, poet, journalist and writer of short stories, Rudyard Kipling. Born in Bombay, India in 1865, Kipling left a wealth of classics such as The Jungle Book, Kim, Gunga Din, and todays post If, before his death in London in 1936. I memorized this poem for school one year... If I'd known school would do me so much good, I would have paid more attention instead of daydreaming out the window...

'If' by Rudyard Kipling..



If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Here in this house..

This is a touching work that has been distributed around the Veterinary Clinic where my wife is employed. I do not know where it came from, or who to attribute it to. But, I thought that folks that frequent this site might enjoy it... And, help us remember that all of our canine friends do not have it this good...

Here in this House

Here in this house.....

I will never know the loneliness I hear in the barks of other dogs' out there.

I can sleep soundly, assured that when I wake, my world will not have changed.

I will never know hunger, or the fear of not knowing if I'll eat.

I will not shiver in the cold, or grow weary from the heat.

I will feel the sun's heat, and the rain's coolness,

and be allowed to smell all that can reach my nose.

My fur will shine, and never be dirty or matted.

Here in this house.....

There will be an effort to communicate with me on my level.

I will be talked to and, even if I don't understand,

I can enjoy the warmth of the words.

I will be given a name so that I may know who I am among many,

My name will be used in joy, and I will love the sound of it!

Here in this house.....

I will never be a substitute for anything I am not.

I will never be used to improve people's images of themselves.

I will be loved because I am who I am, not someone's idea of who I should be.

I will never suffer from someone's anger, impatience, or stupidity.

I will be taught all the things I need to know to be loved by all.

If I do not learn my lessons well, they will look to my teacher for blame.

Here in this house.....

I can trust arms that hold, hands that touch...

knowing that no matter what they do, they do it for the good of me.

If I am ill, I will be doctored.

If scared, I will be calmed.

If sad, I will be cheered.

No matter what I look like, I will be considered beautiful and thought to be of value.

I will never be cast out because I am too old, too ill, too unruly, or not cute enough.

My life is a responsibility, and not an afterthought.

I will learn that humans can almost, sometimes, be as kind and as fair as dogs.

Here in this house.....

I will belong.

I will be home.

A favorite from Henley

"Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be,
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud:
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody but unbowed...
It matters not how strait the gait,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul."

(William Ernest Henley, 1849-1903, from 'Invictus', more precisely titled: Echoes, No4, In Memoriam RT Hamilton Bruce, written in 1888.)



I had to memorize this in Junior High School. At that time, I wondered what good memorizing this piece would ever do me....

And now I know...

Enjoy

A poem by Frost we can all relate to

My November Guest

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise

Robert Frost


Enjoy your day, everyone.... BnT