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.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Author unknown...
1986 - January 1998
Willie was my first pet on my own. He was a kitten from my childhood cat, Tigger. He was one of two left out of the litter that nobody wanted. He had an upper respiratory infection as a kitten, which left him blind in one eye, and with a chronic congestion and sneeze.
Willie kept me company at my very first apartment out on my own, and he accompanied me through all three of my apartments and jobs, before finally settling in our home here in 1991. Willie was elected by all our friends as "The Coolest Cat Ever", and he lived up to that with gusto.
Willie had a very unique personality. He loved to play with pizza crusts, and he chased them all over the apartment. He would sneak up and steal one right off your plate if you weren't watching. He also loved to share your watermelon. Willie would sit on his extra tall scratching post, which was 5 feet tall, in the unlit hallway, and wait for you to walk by. Then he would reach out in the dark and whack you upside the head (never using claws). He introduced himself to every visitor, and took great pleasure in inaugerating them by sneezing on them at least once. Willie woudl also sit next to me on the sofa, and if I didn't pay attentio nto him and give him a pet, he would very gently reach out and tap my cheek with his paw. He never used his claws, but would "tap-tap-tap" until I pet him.
Willie was let out of my apartment once by a room-mate. He was gone a week, and I searched high and low for him, every morning and night before and after work. My mother even came to the area before and after work calling him. I finally asked some kids I saw hanging around if they saw a red cat, and they said that they had, and some other child was keeping him in their garage. Sure enough, there was Willie! Willie never could handle car rides, and on the 3 block trip home he threw up a gutfull of hot dogs the kids had been feeding him. I was never so happy to see that cat!
Unfortunately, Willie's chronic respiratory infection turned into a tumor, and he had to be humanely euthanized shortly before my daughters first birthday.
September 1995 - January 2003
Samantha, my first introduction to the ChowChow breed. What a dog! Who could resist this face? I just had to bring her home, and soon learned about pet stores and puppy mills. Samantha did not have the best temperament of the breed, but she loved her family and was 100% devoted. Strangers, however, were another story. My front door still shows Sam's teeth marks from trying to get to the mailman and UPS man. Sam had a congenital defect in her heart, cor triatratum. She had an extra membrane in her heart, so she essentially had 5 chambers. We could try experimental surgery, since this condition was so rare at the time we found it (1997). We opted not to put her through a risky surgery, with an uncertain outcome. Through supplements, a healthy diet, and love, Sam lived to the age of 8 years old (Jan. 2, 2003). Not bad, considering she was only given a couple of years to live. Sam had a language all her own, and "talked" to us. She had her own words for "potty", "food", "water", "the cat is on the table", "the other dogs are stealing food", "the smoke detector is beeping", "the baby is crying", and many others. She was an incredibly smart dog, and I miss her terribly. There will never be another like her. We miss you, Sam.
A Pet'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 worlds sweetest music, as
you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footstep
falls upon my waiting ear.
When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a
domesticated animal, no longer used to the elements. And I ask no
greater glory than the privilege 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 my 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
June 2000 - February 2003
*Wind Traveler, 2 1/2 year old Palomino Curly horse. I had such high hopes of spending hours and hours trail-riding this fellow. But it was not to be. He spent almost 2 wonderful years with us, and taught me so much about young horses, and patience, and my own pride. We lost Trav on Feb 2, 2003. He slipped in his turnout and impaled himself on a stick. There was little hope for survival. He was only 2 1/2 years old.
Don’t cry for the horses
Don’t cry for the horses
That life has set free
A million white horses
Forever to be
Don’t cry for the horses
Now in God's hands
As they dance and they prance
To a heavenly band
They were ours as a gift
But never to keep
As they close their eyes
Forever to sleep
Their spirits unbound
On silver wings they fly
A million white horses
Against the blue sky
Look up into heaven
You'll see them above
The horses we lost
The horses we loved
Manes and tails flowing
They gallop through time
They were never yours
They were never mine
Don't cry for the horses
They will be back someday
When our time has come
They will show us the way
Do you hear that soft nicker
Close to your ear
Don’t cry for the horses
Love the ones that are here
by Brenda Riley-Seymore
March 1987 - August 2004
Kodiak Star, a/k/a Turbo. I had the pleasure of spending 6 years with Turbo, since 1998. My first horse of my own. Turbo taught me more than I will ever know, about horses, myself, relationships. Gosh I miss this guy. We grew together over the short years we had together. Turbo developed cancer at the age of 18, once it was found and diagnosed, he only survived 2 months, and I had to make the difficult decision on August 30, 2004. I am grateful we had that last bit of time together. Turbo was a kind soul, with loads of patience. He commanded respect within the herd, with nothing more than a look. He never had to chase, kick or bite. He was respected without question, and he gave respect and trust. Turbo knew what I was thinking, even when I didn't. What a wise, gentle old soul. He was everything a horse could be. I miss you dearly, pal.
The American Quarter Horse
He's half a ton of poised and controlled energy, held on an easy rein and a hair trigger.
He's a workin' man who can earn his keep on the ranch all week…and be a handsome dandy at the track on Sunday afternoon.
He's proud when he stands; looks lazy when he walks…but when he runs he can whip the tears from the corners of your eyes and plaster your hat brim against the crown.
He's big in the haunches, supple in the withers, stout in the neck and wide across the chest…to hold his great heart.
He's cow smart and brave, though sometimes a clown, and to the man with sky in his eye and mud on his boots, the American Quarter Horse is a faithful hand…and a friend.
Anonymous
Wildfire
She comes down from Yellow Mountain
On a dark, flat land she rides
On a pony she named Wildfire
With a whirlwind by her side
On a cold Nebraska night
Oh, they say she died one winter
When there came a killing frost
And the pony she named Wildfire
Busted down its stall
In a blizzard he was lost
She ran calling Wildfire
She ran calling Wildfire
She ran calling Wildfire
By the dark of the moon I planted
But there came an early snow
There's been a hoot-owl howling by my window now
For six nights in a row
She's coming for me, I know
And on Wildfire we're both gonna go
We'll be riding Wildfire
We'll be riding Wildfire
We'll be riding Wildfire
On Wildfire we're gonna ride
Gonna leave sodbustin' behind
Get these hard times right on out of our minds
Riding Wildfire
Michael Martin Murphey
Henry - March 1993 - August 2004
Peanut - March 1993 - March 2005
Henry and Peanut, are Cheviot sheep, who lived with us for 11 years. Henry was a good old sheep, always quiet, respectful and friendly. Hank was euthanized on August 30, after he developed a neurological problem. We miss you, Hank.
Peanut was the bolder of the two, and lived to eat. She had a very distinctive voice, much like a long-time smoker. Peanut died of natural causes, or perhaps a broken heart, in the spring of 2005.
1991/92?? - September 2004
Spring 1989 - June 27, 2005
What a life Misha had! She was sprung from the dog pound in November of 1989 on a whim, and went on to spend 16 wonderful years with us. Throughout those years, Misha has had 9 lives, including surviving being hit by a car. That Beagle nose of hers got her into more than her share of trouble, including multiple run-ins with porcupines, eating rat poison, rancid bacon grease, and all manner of other unmentionably vile things she dragged out of the woods. She also made sure the house was clean of any and all crumbs that may attract varmints. She enjoyed her share of stolen apple pies and multiple batches of brownies off the counter over the years, pilfered bags of cookies from the snack cabinet, and even the occasional tube of chapstick or fragrant candle when the rest of the pickings were slim. Ever the good neighbor, Misha also made sure that the neighbors grills were free of any leftovers that may attract critters, whenever she could manage to get away for a moment. Misha made sure that her hound-dog call notified the family of every thunder-storm about an hour before it arrived, as well as the arrival of every postal carrier, delivery person, meter reader, or visitor. You see, if she barked enough, somebody would give her a cookie to keep her mouth busy. Happy trails, Misha.
A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man
was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.
He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years.
He wondered where the road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine
marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.
When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and
the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got
closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"
"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."
The man thought a moment and then turned back toward
the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.
After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a
farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence.
As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside,
leaning against a tree and reading a book.
"Excuse me!" he called to the man. "Do you have any water?"
"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."
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was
an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.
The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long
drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.
When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward
the man who was standing by the tree.
"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"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."
Poem For Dog Lovers
Hello. I've been expecting you for quite some time.
Here sit beside us for awhile and let me tell you
about this old friend of mine.
She might look tattered or maybe old
But she has been the best friend I've had and
I'm not ready to say goodbye until you've been told.
She had the brightest eyes I had ever seen
She wore the most beautiful fur coat that would out shine a queen
She was never prissy but walked with an aire
And oh so polite you could take her anywhere
She could run like the wind and could catch anything she chased
But she protected and sat with me when I had problems to face
You could not find a friend so dear
No matter the trouble she always was near
She has never asked for much from me
Just to love and respect her and I think you'll agree
That to give her a good meal and a warm bed is not much to ask
When she has given me more love than most anyone...to her it was not task
Now I understand you have a schedule to keep
But I have a small favor before she nods off to sleep,
Please fold your wings around her and let her feel young without any pain
Dear Guardian Angel of Pets keep her safe and happy until I see her again.
-Ginger Patton (GJP1WCP2)
Barney was a collie mix, a birthday gift to my husband in 1993. He was full grown when we adopted him,and he took to my husband the instant they met, and never left his side in all these years. Barney loved going to work with my husband, going to "the cabin", and just being wherever he happened to be, it didn't matter where. Barney was a great dog, a loving and devoted companion, and a kind soul. Barney died peacefully of unknown causes (most likely just old age) on September 9th, 2004. I hope you finally caught the UPS man, Barn-o.
Old Dogs Do Not Die
We have a secret, you and I,
That no one else shall know,
For who, but I can see you lie,
Each night, in fireglow?
And who but I can reach my hand
Before we go to bed,
And feel the living warmth of you
And touch your silken head?
And only I walk woodland paths,
And see, ahead of me,
Your small form racing wit the wind,
So young again, and free.
And only I can see you swim
In every brook I pass.
And, when I call, no one but I
Can see the bending grass.
-Author Unknown
Summer 1991 - November 9 2005
As a kitten, back in 1991, my husband used to put this little black kitten in the pocket of his jacket, and he would spend the day like that. When we got married and moved into our house in September of 1991, we brought Wonka, and his brother Burt with us. Wonka spent all of his 14 years with us, and has helped to raise countless puppies, and even a couple of kids. Wonka would do anything for attention, and just loved to be pet and snuggled. After struggling for years with struvite crystals and the special diet, Wonka became hyperthryoid. The meds stopped working for him, and he began losing weight terribly. Wonka has been unable to swallow for a few days, so today I made the difficult decision to help him cross the Bridge. Goodbye, Wonka. It was great knowing you. Say hello to Willie and all the others for me. We all miss you.
Burt
Spring 1991 - April 2006
Unfortunately I have no recent pictures of Burt. Burt was Wonka's litter-brother, and was born with a feral temperament which never improved. Burt was an outside cat, he hated being in the house. He lived under our front porch for many years, coming out in the mornings for a scratch or attention, but would soon skitter off to the safety of the porch. Sometime in 1998, Burt disappeared for a month, and came back skinny & bedraggled, with one foot falling off. Despite my attempts to catch him to bring him to the vet, they all failed and he gained weight, the foot fell off and stump healed on its own. Burt lived another 8 years after that incident, and never left the safety of the front yard again. Burt died of old ate in April of 2006.
Spirit
June 2002 - July 2006
Spirit was foaled in June, 2002 by my friend, Lisa, and grew to a whopping 26 inches. When Spirit was a baby, I fell head-over-heels in love with him. He was the sweetest, lovable little foal. A year later, Lisa asked me if I still wanted Spirit. Of course I did! So he came to live with us in July, 2003. Spirit quickly found his place in the herd, and was my son's horse. Spirit was always gentle and quiet, and could be trusted around the smallest of children. He had a sweet, quiet personality. He loved attention and scratches, and would follow you everywhere like a puppy.
Spirit was plauged with chronic diarrhea thoughout his short life. We had tried every remedy possible, including diet changes, special elimination diets, diets for chronically ill horses, conventional, homeopathic, nutritional & herbal therapies, and nothing ever helped for more than a week or so.
On July 26th, Spirit was colicing when I went out for the morning feed. He was in pain, rolling, and not eating. We immediately took him to the local vet clinic, where he was ultrasounded, tubed, and given banamine for pain. They could find nothing wrong, and the banamine did not help the pain, so we took him directly to Tufts. After many tests, ultrasounds, stomach tubing and belly taps, they could find no cause for his pain. Spirit was put on some very heavy-duty pain meds, which made him comfortable until we could figure out the cause. The final belly tap showed that Spirit had ruptured. He was euthanized while I stayed with him, gave him his final scratches and kisses on the nose.
We miss you, Little Dude. Go and keep Turbo company, I'm sure he missed you being his little pal.
I'll lend you for a little while
My grandest foal, He said.
For you to love while he's alive
And mourn for when he's dead.
It may be one or twenty years,
Or days or months, you see.
But will you, till I take him back
Take care of him for me?
He'll bring his charms to gladden you,
And should his stay be brief
You'll have treasured memories
As solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay,
Since all from earth return.
But there are lessons taught on earth
I want this foal to learn.
I've looked the wide world over
In my search for teachers true.
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes
With trust, I have selected you.
Now will you give her your total love?
Nor think the labor vain,
Nor hate me when I come
To take him back again?
I know you'll give him tenderness
And love will bloom each day.
And for the happiness you've known
Forever grateful stay.
But should I come and call for him
Much sooner than you'd planned
You'll brave the bitter grief that comes
And someday you'll understand.
~Author unknown~
Spirit and the Big Gate
A Short Story by Tanya Ross
Reprinted with permission
Spirit looked up at the big gate and twitched his tail nervously. Then he looked around again. Nothing was familiar, and yet somehow he felt like he knew where he was. But where were his people? Where was the nice lady with the pretty smile who fed Spirit oats and apples, and the little boy who giggled when he scratched Spirit's ears?
Spirit looked back at the gate. He was wondering what to do next when the gate opened and a man walked out. Spirit blinked. This isn't one of my people, Spirit thought, but he looks very nice, all the same. The man had snow white hair and a kind face, and he was wearing a long white robe.
The man didn't say anything, but he walked over to Spirit and put his big hand on Spirit's nose and stroked it. Then the man started to scratch Spirit's ears. Ooooh, that felt good! It wasn't quite the same as when his little boy scratched his ears, but it was still very pleasant. Spirit shuddered with delight and leaned against the man's leg.
Spirit was feeling a little braver now. He looked up at the nice man and said, "Are you an angel?" The man smiled down at Spirit. "No, little Spirit, I'm not an angel. My name is Peter, and I'm in charge of this gate. It's my job to see that only good horses come through the gate."
Spirit's heart sank. "How do I know if I'm a good horse, Peter?"
"I think I can help you with that, Spirit," Peter said, smiling. "But I have to ask you a very serious question." Spirit flicked his ears. He was nervous again.
"Are you ready?" asked Peter. Spirit hesitated, then nodded.
Peter looked a little stern now, but Spirit could see that there was still a twinkle in Peter's eye. "Did you fulfill the measure of your creation while you lived on Earth, Spirit?"
"Did I...what?" Spirit's ears drooped. He didn't even understand the question! How was he supposed to answer a question he didn't understand?
Peter smiled again. "Did you faithfully perform all of the tasks you were given?"
"Tasks?" Spirit felt so confused. "You mean like plowing fields and pulling wagons?" He shook his head sadly. "My people never gave me things like that to do because I was too sick. But they fed me and scratched my ears..." Spirit trailed off. "I guess I'm not a good horse after all, Peter."
"Spirit, not all of us are given the same tasks to perform during our lives. Your task on Earth was to help your people find happiness. People are always happiest when they take care of someone or something else. Sometimes it takes people a long time to figure that out, and some people never learn that. Your people knew that very well, and you helped them be happy by letting them take care of you. They love you and miss you very much. And that means you're a good horse." Peter patted the back of Spirit's head as the big gate swung open. "Come on, Spirit. It's time to go home."
Dedicated to Spirit and his people, the Ives family.
Copyright © 2006, Tanya Ross. All rights reserved.
May 18, 2007 ~ February 28, 2008
Ana was a gift, a gift from Above. She came along with her mother, Jen unbeknownst to any of us, except Jen. Ana came into this world with a love of life. She adored everything, loved to run and buck and play. She greeted life with enthusiasm and joy.
Unfortunately, her life was all too short, and on February 28th, at the age of 9 months, Ana shattered her pastern and was euthanized. There was no hope, there were too many pieces, and she would have spent her life in constant pain. I couldn't allow this outgoing baby to spend a life of agony. There is no explanation for her injury, she was walking across the paddock coming in for breakfast, and just pulled up her leg. It is felt by many that her mothers chronic malnourishment didn't allow enough calcium to her bones while developing. A horrible, terrible, sad waste of a beautiful life.
1983??? ~ August 5, 2008
For years, my husband had been wanting a Belgian. He always admired them at the pulls at the fairs. He finally got serious in October of 2007, and I told him I could very easily find him a Belgian that needed a home. Considering he was not a horse person and likely would never ride, I knew that an old Amish gelding would be perfect for him to just love and "have". So in October of 2007, I checked the AC4H website weekly broker horse listings. There was Leroy, I sent the photo to my husband who said "that's the one!". The wheels were set in motion, and Leroy came home to Connecticut to retire.
Leroy had no use for humans when he arrived. He had been used hard and thrown away, and had the scars to show for it. With a lot of patience, Leroy learned that not all humans hurt horses. Not all humans made horses work until they couldn't any longer. He learned that humans can have a kind touch, and scritch all the itchy spots. And that they won't make you do something you are afraid to do.
Leroy left us on August 5th of 2008. He ate his breakfast as usual on that warm, sunny day. He followed me out to the hay piles, and got a scritch on the shoulder. When I came back out a couple of hours later, he was gone. There were no signs of a struggle. It appears as though he was napping in the sun, and just collapsed and was likely gone before he hit the ground.
You taught me so much Leroy, about forgiveness. We miss you.
Somewhere...Somewhere in time's Own Space
There must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow
Some Paradise where horses go,
For by the love that guides my pen
I know great horses live again.
~Stanley Harrison
The little dog arrived at the Rainbow Bridge, and a pack of dogs rushed up to greet him. He braced himself, expecting a fight, but this was the first pack that wagged their tails and kissed him instead of attacking him.
It was beautiful here, and everyone was nice to him. None of them had been born in a puppy mill, like he had, and used for dog-bait fighting and left to die in a shelter because he was a mix-breed battle-scarred cur and wasn't cute. They explained why they were waiting... for their humans who loved them.
"What is love?" he asked, and God let him go back to earth, and find out.
Warm, and dark, he squeezed in with the others and waited for the day to be born. Scared, he held back as long as he could, but finally got dragged out, by his hind feet. Hands without fur held him gently and rubbed him dry and opened his mouth and guided him to a warm nipple with milk. He didn't get a good hold on it, because one of his big fat brothers pushed him aside. The human hand moved the other puppy to another nipple and held his body, so he could drink.
"Ahhh, that's better, " he thought, and drank until his jaws got tired and he curled up to sleep next to his warm hairy mother. "I remember this," he mused... "Too bad I'll have to grow up to be hit, left out in the cold and rain, and used for dog-bait fighting, and die as an unclaimed rescue dog. I remember what it's like, being a dog." he thought sadly.
That night, he crawled up to his mother and tried to nurse, but he kept getting pushed off to the side. When they were full, the big brothers and sisters got their bottoms cleaned and he finally latched on to a nipple, but the human hands weren't there to hold him up, and there wasn't any milk in any of the nipples, anyway. He was weak and so tiny. It was even hard to stay upright, and he fell over on his back and couldn't right himself.
So he began to cry, and suddenly the human hands were there, holding him up and putting a rubber thing in his mouth. It didn't taste or feel like mother, but it was warm and made the ache in his tummy go away.
He was having trouble breathing ... His lungs weren't fully developed, because he had waited too long to join the others in the womb, as he took one last romp at the Rainbow Bridge.
He could feel the heartbeat of the human, who had laid him on her chest and covered him with a soft cloth, keeping him warm, and soothing his boney body with gentle circling touches.
He kept thinking of his new friends who had been so nice to him at the bridge and asked God if he could go back.
God said "Yes, but not just yet. You wanted to experience Love."
So for several hours (seemed like days but it was dark and he couldn't tell what time it was), the human supplemented his feeding and let him experience the warmth of his mother's body and tongue, and the pile of warm soft littermates. He got weaker, and the human held him more often, leaving the littermates to sleep in a pile while he got carressed, kissed, and got to listen to the heartbeat which was strong and loving.
Finally God came back and asked, "are you ready to come back to the Rainbow Bridge?"
"Yes, he responded," with a little sorrow, because the human didn't want to let him go, and was crying.
He pushed the air out of his lungs and floated back to the Rainbow Bridge and looked back at the human, who was still crying and holding the limp body that he had borrowed for his trip.
"Thank you, God," he said. "Love is beautiful, and I will wait near the Bridge and let the human know, when she arrives, that I loved her, too."