You think dogs will not be in heaven?
I tell you, they will be there long before any of us.
Robert Louis Stevenson

“Here lies the remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity,
courage without cruelty,
and the virtues of all human beings
without any of their vices.”

Lord Byron(1788-1824)
on the death of his favorite Newfoundland dog.

“When a pet dies, that special place in our hearts feels so empty.
But we realize, as time passes,
that animals have a way of teaching us about loving,
about loyalty, friendship, & joy.
And whatever we’ve shared in their presence
can never really be lost.”

The Once Again Prince

We who choose to surround ourselves with lives
Even more temporary than our own,
Live within a fragile circle,
Easily and often breached.
Unable to accept its awful gaps,
We still would live no other way.
We cherish memory as the only certain Immortality,
Never fully understanding The necessary plan….

Irving Townsend

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die…

Anonymous
NOTE: There is considerable conflict over the actual authorship of this poem.
It is most commonly attributed to a Mary Frye (and believed to have been written around 1932); however, nothing is known of the author. It is, however, believed to be one of the most requested (and reprinted) poems in the English language!

On the Death of a Cat

 

Katmandu-3-08-800x500

In life, death
was nothing
to you: I am

willing to wager
my soul that it
simply never occurred

to your nightmareless
mind, while sleep
was everything

(see it raised
to an infinite
power and perfection). No death

in you then, so now
how even less. Dear stealth
of innocence

licked polished
to an evil
luster, little

milk fang, whiskered
night
friend

go.

Franz Wright

“And if I go, whilst you’re still here…know that I live on, vibrating to a different measure behind a thin veil…. ”

Emily Dickinson

 

I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying…you found it hard to sleep.
I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear.
“It’s me, I haven’t left you…I’m well, I’m fine, I’m here.”
I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea.
You were thinking of the many times, your hands reached down to me.
I was with you at the shops today, your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more.
I was with you at my grave today, you tend it with such care.
I want to reassure you that I am not lying there.
I walked with you toward the house, as you fumbled for your key,
I gently put my paw on you. I smiled and said, “It’s me.”
You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair.
I tried so hard to let you know that I was standing there.
It’s possible for me to be so near you every day.
To say to you with certainty, “I never went away.”
You sat there very quietly, then smiled, I think you knew…
In the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.
The day is over…I smile and watch you yawning
And say, “Goodnight, God bless, I’ll see you in the morning.”
And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide,
I’ll rush across to greet you and we will stand, side-by-side.
I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see. Be patient, live your journey out…then come home to be with me.               Author Unknown

poem

Beyond our ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’ doesn’t make sense any more.
Rumi

Don’t run away from grief, o soul, Look for the remedy inside the pain, because the rose came from the thorn and the ruby came from a stone.
Rumi