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• The reasons why cats purr
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• Speak to Me!
  

2. Give me time to understand what you want of me.

3. Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well being.

4. Don't be angry with me for long, and don't lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends,
your entertainment. I have only you!

5. Talk to me. Even if I don't understand your words, I understand your voice and when it's speaking to me.

6. Be aware that however you treat me, I'll never forget it.

7. Before you hit me, remember that I have teeth that could crush the bones in your hand, but I choose not to bite you.

8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I'm not getting the right food, I've been in the sun too long, or my heart may be getting old and weak.

9. Take care of me when I get old. You, too, will grow old.

10. Go with me on difficult journeys. Never say, "I can't bear to watch it" or "Let it happen in my absence". Everything is easier for me if you are there. Remember, I love you.

Author Unknown 
 
 

Here is another work of Jim Willis, he truly must have a wonderful spirit:

The Messenger

Copyright Jim Willis 2001
 

I dreamed I came upon a meadow sunlit and fragrant, a small dog at my side. 
As we walked on in silence I saw across the blue ribbon of a river, a field, where animal spirits licked the morning dew from brilliant poppies...basked in sunshine... batted at butterflies. 

"Is this Heaven?" I asked. He nodded yes and as we rounded a bend in the path, I saw ahead a wondrous garden surrounded by a halo of mist, where animals and children lay among the flowers. Cool breezes rustled leaves and over all hung an aura of beauty and peace. 

"Is this Heaven, too?" I asked. "An honored place," he said, "for those who lived a Hell on Earth - who died of neglect, torture, unloved, unwanted and abandoned." 

We walked on until we came to a precipice that overlooked a dark canyon. Lightning crashed above the horizon and illuminated iron prisons on the desert floor. I heard the wails of captive men, the screams of women imploring for water, railing against the absence of Light amidst an acrid smoke. 

Before I could ask he answered, "These were their tormentors." 

We continued solemnly until the sound of laughter and music greeted us, and we came upon a village square, where carefree women, children and men played at games, or walked arm in arm. "They are happy," I said. He agreed and replied, "These were their rescuers. They are blessed above all." 

I spent time among them until I awoke, bathed in a new peace. For whatever this Earthly day may bring, I knew that no wrongful deed goes unpunished, nor is any saving grace without its reward. 

I hugged my small dog closer to my chest and blessed him as a messenger of truth and love.
 
 
 

I STOLE YOUR DOG TODAY
Copyright Jim Willis 2002
http://www.crean.com/jimwillis/

I stole your dog today. No, I didn't set a foot on your property, but from the condition of your dog, I can imagine what it looks like...the word "junkyard" comes to mind.

I found her along a road, with a heavy chain wrapped around her neck, still attached to rotten boards from her doghouse, with rusty six-penny nails protruding. Not only did I know that most of the town had already ignored her, judging by where I found her, but I knew that if she had gotten into the woods the "cross" that she dragged behind her would have wrapped around a tree until starvation or thirst killed her. The local populace is usually deaf to the sound or blind to the sight of an animal in need, unless they decide to shoot one for trespassing.

That her ribs showed, that her ears were filthy, that her overall condition was poor and that her coat and eyes were dull, were good indications that you didn't deserve her. But just to make sure, I checked with the local authorities for a report of a missing (unlicensed) dog matching her description and to see if you'd placed a "lost dog" advertisement in the local newspaper. You hadn't, which I can only surmise means that you do not miss her. That's rather convenient, because the fact that she is not spayed, probably unvaccinated, and possibly heartworm positive means that restoring her health could cost me around a thousand dollars.

Perhaps it may be some small comfort to know that she doesn't miss you. In fact, her very act of escape made it clear that she'd had enough of your brand of pet guardianship. It took her about a day to realize that I'm not you, that I won't hurt her, that despite our brief acquaintanceship, I love her. It took two days for her to realize that the other animals who live here accept her and that one of the joys she has been missing has been the companionship of other dogs. It took three days for her to appreciate the ecstasy of a homecooked meal and that a couch is meant to be reclined on, and that she no longer has to sleep outside - in fact, when the thunder starts, she'll get a hug and her ears rubbed, and I'll make a fool of myself with baby talk.

She has a beautiful name now. Already in the first week she has come to look more like she should. Her eyes sparkle and she has learned to wag her tail in greeting. She has stopped flinching when I make a sudden movement, because she knows now that I won't beat her, in fact, she rarely leaves my side. She's even become brave enough to bark at a cat and today I watched from the window as she initiated play with the other dogs. No, it's clear she does not miss you or her former life of neglect on a chain.

Of all the things that have become apparent from my brief relationship with her - such as the forgiving nature of the dog, their wonderful ability to heal and to trust, the fact that love can work miracles - one of the most apparent is what a fool you are. She was possibly the most trusting, loyal and loving being in your life, and you consigned her to a life of filth and loneliness until she made the best choice she's ever made when she broke free. Perhaps her guardian angel helped her escape. Lest anyone should mistake me for an angel, I will admit that one day I hope to be as good as she; I believe she forgave you within the first twenty-four hours of her new life for the about four years of her previous "life," while I still wrestle with the part of me that hopes that one day you will 
burn in Hell.

It's not clear yet whether she'll remain here or whether I'll find her a loving home where she can count on more individual attention than I can give her, but one thing is certain, this is one bit of stolen "property" who is never returning to you. So sue me, prosecute me, plead with the courts that she is rightfully yours...I'm convinced this is the best "crime" I've ever committed. Hardly anything has pleased me more than the day I stole your dog. I need only look into her beautiful brown eyes to know that she'd defend my decision with her life. If we have one prayer, it is that you will not replace her, and if we have one special day to commemorate together, it is the day I stole your dog and the day she stole my heart.

Copyright Jim Willis 2002 - Used With Permission
 
 

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 timeslow 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)
 
 
 
 

Jim Willis, author of "Pieces of My Heart - Writings Inspired by
Animals and Nature"

"Fly!"
Copyright Jim Willis 2003
http://www.crean.com/jimwillis

Fly, though your wings are broken,
Dance, though your feet may ache,
Smile, though your heart is breaking,
Give, though some only take.
Ask, though you dread the answers,
Tell, though the news is bad,
Move, though your limbs are heavy,
Shine in the midst of sad.
Care, though the most uncaring,
smirk, when they see your pain,
Run, even though you're weary,
Dry, in a sea of rain.
Heal, though in the healing,
festers an open wound,
Cure, although the curing
contains a sense of doom.
Believe, while among the faithless,
Faith, in the face of doubt,
Cheer, while among the doubters,
delve in, when you could bail out.
Embrace, where there is no hugging,
Show, though they may not see,
See, where the blind go begging,
Be, when they will not be.
Live, while they fade around you,
Laugh, when there is no joke,
Believe, while assailed by troubles,
Breathe, when you think you'll choke.
Succeed, even when they scorn you,
Rise up, with no comrade in sight,
Win, without thought of victory,
Pray for bright blessings on the blight.
Cry, when the spirits move you,
Compassion, though it makes no sense,
Weigh all elements around you,
build a bridge, or erect a fence.
Safe, though the price of safety,
is grief over some things not done,
Give, because in the giving,
emerges an enlightened one.
Speak for those without voices,
Champion the innocent lot,
Fly, though your wings are broken,
Teach what you were never taught.
*******
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
Henry  Beston, who wrote "The Outermost House" about 70 years
 ago. 

 "We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more
 mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal
 nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in
 civilization surveys the creature through the glass of
 his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and
 the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for
 their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having
 taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err,
 and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured
 by man. In a world older and more complete than ours
 they move finished and complete, gifted with
 extensions of the senses we have lost or never
 attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They
 are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are
 other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of
 life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and
 travail of the earth."

Because you will not be forever
Hope against time though I may
I paint your picture in my memory
Eyes blue with age, muzzle gone gray

Because you walked with me in Springtime
Puppy-clumsy, running free
As you grew, we grew together
You became a part of me

Because you shared with me my sorrows
Not understanding-simply there
Often spurring me to laughter
My friend, you know how much I care

Because the years have slowed your fleetness
Though your spirit still is strong
I promise I will take more time now
So that you can go along

Because you do not fear the future
Living only in the now
I draw strength from your example
Yet time keeps slipping by somehow

Because the day will soon be coming

When I will no longer see
You rise to greet me-but in memory
You will always walk with me

You stopped at a house with a "Free Puppies" sign in the yard to
have an Educational "Chat," and your kids had to post your bail.

Running out of paper towels is a household crisis.

You not only know all the characteristics of a good "stool," you
discuss them at dinner.

Your checks have messages on them like "Subtract Two Testicles For
Every Four Feet."

You have a bumper sticker that reads "My Golden Retriever Is Smarter
Than Your Graduate Student."

You pray they will someday manufacture Teflon furniture.

You have phone calls forwarded to PetsMart.

You absentmindedly pat people on the head or scratch them behind
their ears.

Given the choice of having your teeth cleaned or their teeth
cleaned, they get their teeth cleaned.

You not only allow pets on the couch, guests have to sit on the
floor because the dog has "territorial issues."

Your spouse missed the final game of the World Series because the
cat wanted to watch his favorite video, "Birds of North America."

Anytime the animal appears lethargic, you go on-line and investigate
vetmed websites, pose questions to your address book and on e-lists,
and by the time you digest all the information and field the
correspondence, the animal has torn out the window screens,
masticated a couch cushion and left something disgusting in your
favorite pair of shoes.

Your chatroom handle is "Queen of Spayeds."

You and your vet are on a first name basis and he genuflects when
you enter the waiting room. His daughter at Harvard refers to you
as "Auntie."

You needed a prescription to recover from "Old Yeller."

You've forwarded more warnings about the dangers of chocolate,
onions and mistletoe than the National Center for Disease Control
has issued about anthrax and smallpox.

You wear white year 'round, not because you are flaunting a fashion
law or belong to a religious sect but because you have a Dalmatian,
Great Pyrenees, Samoyed or white Persian at home.

The world would never guess from your "dog or kittyspeak" posts to e-
lists that in reality you are chairman of the IBM corporation.

By the time you investigate different flea control products, their
advantages and potential risks,natural versus chemical methods, and
study the life cycle of the flea, any fleas have died of old age.

You tell your children to "heel!" in a grocery store.

For relaxation, you went mall hopping with your girlfriends. Your
eyes glazed over when you saw a sign in front of a pet shop, "20%
Off All Puppies & Kittens," and you slapped three security guards
before they got you safely contained in the manager's office.

People are still talking about your spay-neuter holiday greeting
from last year, "Deck the Halls with Balls of Collies.

 
SOME THINGS YOU KEEP 

    Some things you keep. Like good teeth. Warm coats. Bald husbands. 
    They're good for you, reliable and practical and so sublime that to throw 
    them away would make the garbage man a thief. So you hang on, because 
    something old is sometimes better than something new, and what you know is 
    often better than a stranger. These are my thoughts, they make me sound 
    old, old and tame, and dull at a time when everybody else is risky and racy 
    and flashing all that's new and improved in their lives. New careers, new 
    thighs, new lips, new cars. The world is dizzy with trade-ins. I could keep
    track, but I don't think I want to. 

    I grew up in the seventies with practical grandparents -- a grandmother, 
    God bless her, who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused
    it. 

    A grandfather who was happier getting old shoes fixed than buying new ones. 
    They weren't poor, my grandparents, they were just satisfied. 
    Their marriage was good, their dreams focused. Their best friends lived 
    barely a wave away. I can see them now, grandpa in trousers and a button up 
    shirt watering the lawn and grandma in a purple pantsuit baking cookies and 
    a dishtowel in her hand. 

    It was a time for fixing things -- a curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen 
    door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things you keep. It was a way of 
    life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, reheating, 
    renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. 
    Throwing things away meant there'd always be more. 

    But then my grandmother died, and on that clear autumn day, in the 
    chill of the hospital room, I was struck with the pain of learning that 
    sometimes there isn't any 'more.' Sometimes what you care about most gets 
    all used up and goes away, never to return. 

    So, while you have it, it's best to love it and care for it and fix it when 
    it's broken and heal it when it's sick. That's true for marriage and old 
    cars and children with bad report cards and dogs with bad hips and aging 
    parents.  You keep them because they're worth it, because you're worth it. 

    Some things you keep. Like a best friend that moved away or a classmate
    you grew up with, there's just some things that make life important 
... 
    people you know are special ... and you KEEP them close! 
 

                                  Author unknown 
 
 
 
 

Dear Cats, 

We need to talk. 

When I say to move, it means go someplace else, not switch positions with 
each other so there are still two cats in the way. 

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 my plate and food does not 
stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that 
aesthetically pleasing in the slightest. 

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. 
Beating me to the bottom is not the object. 
Tripping me doesn't help, because I fall faster than you can run. 

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king size bed. 
I am very sorry about this. 
Do not think I will continue to sleep on the couch to ensure your comfort. 

Look at videos of cats 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. 

I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out 
the other end to maximize space used is nothing but feline sarcasm. 

My compact discs are not toys for you and your friends to play with.

For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. 
If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is 
not necessary to claw, whine, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the 
edge and try to pull the door open. 

I must exit through the same door I entered. 
In addition, I have been using bathrooms for years and I know that feline 
attendance is not mandatory. 

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other cat's butt. 
I cannot stress this enough. 
It should be such a simple change for you. 

      Sincerely, 

      I just live here. 
 

     "Did you hear that?" the old dog shouted.
     They all ran to the front of their kennel doors to see if someone was coming to "pick them."
     "Sorry," he said to the other dogs as his ears fell down from their perked position.  "I could have sworn I heard voices saying, 'Isn't he cute?  It's Christmas, can't we take him home with us?'"
     "You must have been dreaming again old man," said the dog in the cage next to him.  "Anyway, what's the big deal about getting picked up as a Christmas gift.  We've all been through that routine and look where it got us."
     The word "home" meant little to these shelter dogs.
     "Just once, I'd like to feel the warmth of a hand stroking my head," said the old dog.  "I'd like to be the one who kisses the tears off a sad face.  I'd like to curl up next to a fire instead of this cold concrete. It hurts my bones."
     He curled up and sighed as the others said, "The only place you're going to find that is in your dreams old man."

                                     *        *        *

     Hank's wife had only been gone a year but the pain was as fresh as if time had stood still.
     He was an old man now, alone and longed for the comfort that he knew no other person would ever be able to give to him again.  What would his life become without her by his side?
     Hank's cupboards were close to bare now and, although he didn't want to go out, he knew he should at least pick up the basics.  He drove slowly down the side streets for freeway driving had become too challenging.
     Suddenly, the car started chugging and sputtering until finally the engine quit altogether.  One of the basic needs he forgot was fuel for the car!  So he coasted over next to the curb, spotting a building within walking distance.  Hopefully, they'd let him use their phone.
     He walked into an office area and rang the bell for service but no one came.  He spotted another door going outside, failing to notice the sign posted "Employees Only".
     As Hank walked out, he was overwhelmed by yaps, barks and insane jumping from dogs all sizes and shapes.  He then realized he had unintentionally gone to the dog shelter.
     Slowly he walked down the concrete aisle looking for an attendant.
     Three kennels down on the right, the old dog calmly sat there.  Why should the old dog get excited?  No one would want him.  But, he sensed a need and couldn't resist offering a kind look and a gentle wag of the tail.
     As Hank neared the old dog's cage, he laced his fingers through the chain link to steady his gait and the first feeling of comfort he'd remembered in over a year came from a wet nose and lick across his arthritic fingers.
     Just then a voice of authority sounded, and Hank jumped.
     "I'm sorry sir, you aren't supposed to be in this area!" she said.
     Luckily Hank didn't know he had walked into the "final area" where unclaimed dogs were scheduled to be put down.
     There went the nudge and lick thing again.  Hank looked down to the most pleading eyes he'd ever seen.
     Ignoring the attendants order to leave, Hank asked if could he see the dog closer?  Her demeanor changed completely and her sternness melted away. She had forced herself to be this way so she could do the part of her job she despised.
     She brought the old dog out and instantly the two souls -- once so lost -- found reason to hope.
     Hank's cupboards were now filled, a warm fire crackled and the old dog smiled inside as he remembered "only in your dreams."  Closing his eyes he felt Hank's hand stroking his head whispering "sleep in heavenly peace".
     It was Christmas after all.

          -- Shelly Guidotti   <shelly @ songimages.com>

The Last Battle 

If it should be that I grow frail and weak And pain should keep me from my sleep, Then will you do what must be done, For this --
the last battle -- can't be won. You will be sad I understand, But don't let grief then stay your hand, For on this day, more than the
rest, Your love and friendship must stand the test. We have had so many happy years, You wouldn't want me to suffer so. When
the time comes, please, let me go. Take me to where to my needs they'll tend, Only, stay with me till the end And hold me firm
and speak to me Until my eyes no longer see. I know in time you will agree It is a kindness you do to me. Although my tail its last
has waved, From pain and suffering I have been saved. Don't grieve that it must be you Who has to decide this thing to do; We've
been so close -- we two -- these years, Don't let your heart hold any tears. 

-- Unknown 
 

The Reasons Why Cats Purr
by:B Dr. Dawn Ruben

 A cat purrs while his mouth is closed. 

When your cat climbs into your lap, tucks in his paws and begins to purr, all is right with the world. This is one thing we love about our cats: that feeling of contentment they share with us. When they become soft purring bundles of warm reassuring fur, we feel calmer and more peaceful. We may not always hear it b a soft vibrating rumble b but we can feel it. But why do cats purr? And what produces this characteristic sound? 

According to veterinarian Bruce Fogle, author of The Catbs Mind, the original function of purring was to enable a kitten to communicate with his mother that all is well. A kitten is able to purr by the second day of life, and although he canbt meow and nurse at the same time, he can purr and nurse. And the mother cat often purrs back, probably to reassure the kitty. 

There are many theories to explain how the purr is generated. Some feel that it is a vibration of the soft palate at the back of the mouth due to increased blood flow. One study determined that purring results from nerve activation within the voice box. Veterinarian Neils C. Pederson, author of Feline Husbandry says purring originates from within the central nervous system and is a voluntary act. In other words, cats purr only when they want to. 

Purring is an integral part of the feline communication system and occurs for a variety of reasons. It is classified within the bmurmur vocalizationb group, which involves sounds produced by a cat while the mouth is closed. In addition to purring, this group includes grunting, calling and acknowledgment murmurs. Domestic cats and some wild cats like pumas and mountain lions (almost any big cat that cannot roar) are all able to purr. 

As the cat matures the meaning of the purr changes. Some cats purr to indicate contentment or pleasure, but badly frightened cats purr, severely ill cats purr, and female cats purr while delivering their kittens. It is not uncommon for cats to purr around the time prior to death. This final purring may indicate a state of anxiety or possibly euphoria, which has been described in terminally ill people. 

Animal behaviorists believe that when cats purr under stressful circumstances they are reassuring or comforting themselves, much like humans sing to themselves. Frightened cats may purr to communicate submissiveness or non-aggressive intentions. A feral cat may purr to signal that he will not attack and other cats need not feel threatened. Older cats may purr when they play or approach other cats, signaling that they are friendly and want to come closer. 

The Lord spoke to Noah and said, "Noah, in six months I am going to
make it rain until the whole world is covered with water and all the
evil things are destroyed. But, I want to save a few good people and
two of every living thing on the planet. I am ordering you to build an
ark."  And, in a flash of lightning, he delivered the specifications
for the ark.

 "OK," Noah said, trembling with fear and fumbling with the
blueprints, "I'm your man."

 "Six months and it starts to rain," thundered the Lord. "You better
have my ark completed or learn to swim for a long, long time!"

 Six months passed, the sky began to cloud up, and the rain began to
fall in torrents. The Lord looked down and saw Noah sitting in his
yard, weeping, and there was no ark.

 "Noah!" shouted the Lord, "where is My ark?" A lightning bolt crashed
into the ground right beside Noah.

 "Lord, please forgive me!" begged Noah. "I did my best, but there
were some big problems. First, I had to get a building permit for the
ark's construction, but your plans did not meet their code. So, I had
to hire an engineer to redo the plans, only to get into a long
argument with him about whether to include a fire sprinkler system."

 "My neighbors objected, claiming that I was violating zoning
ordinances by building the ark in my front yard, so  I had to get a
variance from the city planning board."

 "Then, I had a big problem getting enough wood for the ark, because
there was a ban on cutting trees to save the spotted owl.  I tried to
convince the environmentalists and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service
that I needed the wood to save the owls, but they wouldn't let me
catch them, so no owls."

 "Next, I started gathering up the animals but got sued by an animal
rights group that objected to me taking along only two of each kind."

 "Just when the suit got dismissed, the EPA notified me that I
couldn't  complete the ark without filing an environmental impact
statement on your proposed flood.  They didn't take kindly to the
idea that they had no jurisdiction over the conduct of a Supreme
Being."

 "Then, the Corps of Engineers wanted a map of the proposed flood
plan. I sent them a globe!"

 "Right now, I'm still trying to resolve a complaint with the Equal
Opportunities Commission over how many minorities I'm supposed to
hire."

 "The IRS has seized all my assets claiming that I am trying to leave
the  country, and I just got a notice from the state that I owe some
kind of use tax. Really, I don't think I can finish the ark in less
than five years."

 With that, the sky cleared, the sun began to shine, and a rainbow
arched  across the sky.

 Noah looked up and smiled. "You mean you are not going to destroy the
world?" he asked hopefully.

 "No," said the Lord, "the government already has."
 
 
 

-
Best Regards
Bobnwild aka Crusher

 

Why did the chicken cross the road?

 
GEORGE W. BUSH
I don't think I should have to answer that question.

AL GORE
I invented the chicken. I invented the road. Therefore, the chicken
crossing the road represented the application of these two different
functions of government in a new, reinvented way designed to bring greater 
services to the American people.

RALPH NADER
The chicken's habitat on the original side of the road had been polluted
by unchecked industrialist greed. The chicken did not reach the unspoiled
habitat on the other side of the road because it was crushed by the
wheels of a gas-guzzling SUV.

Pat BUCHANAN
To steal a job from a decent, hard-working American.

 RUSH LIMBAUGH
I don't know why the chicken crossed the road, but I'll bet it was
getting a government grant to cross the road, and I' ll bet someone out
there is already forming a support group to help chickens with 
crossing-the-road syndrome. Can you believe this? How much more of this can
real Americans take? Chickens crossing the road paid for by their tax 
dollars, and when I say tax dollars, I'm talking about your money, money the 
government took from you to build roads for chickens to cross.

MARTHA STEWART
No one called to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a
standing order at the farmer's market to sell my eggs when the price
dropped to a certain level. No little bird gave me any insider information.

JERRY FALWELL
Because the chicken was gay! Isn't it obvious? Can't you people see the
plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the "other
side." That's what they call it - the other side. Yes, my friends, that
chicken is gay. And, if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I
say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the
liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrases like "the other 
side" or surely, you will burn in hell.

DR. SEUSS
Did the chicken cross the road?
Did he cross it with a toad?
Yes! The chicken crossed the road,
But why it crossed, I've not been told!

 ERNEST HEMINGWAY
To die. In the rain. Alone.

MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.
I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without
having their motives called into question.

GRANDPA
In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Someone told
us that the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough for us.
BARBARA WALTERS
Isn't that interesting? In a few moments we will be listening to the
chicken tell, for the first time, the heart-warming story of how it
survived a serious case of molting and went on to accomplish its life-long 
dream of crossing the road.

JOHN LENNON
Imagine all the chickens  crossing roads in peace.

ARISTOTLE
It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

KARL MARX
It was an historical inevitability.

SADDAM HUSSEIN
This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in
dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.

VOLTAIRE
I may not agree with what the chicken did, but I will defend to the death
its right to do it.

RONALD REAGAN
What chicken?

CAPTAIN KIRK
To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.

FOX MULDER
(from the X-Files) You saw it cross the road with your own eyes! How many
more chickens have to cross before you believe it?

SIGMUND FREUD
The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road
reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.

BILL GATES
I have just released eChicken 2003, which will not only cross roads, but
will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook
-and Internet Explorer is an inextricable part of eChicken.

 ALBERT EINSTEIN
Did the chicken really cross the road or did the road move beneath the
chicken?

BILL CLINTON
I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What do you mean by chicken?
Could you define chicken please?

COLONEL SANDERS
I missed one?

JIMMY CARTER
I don't know, but if you need an impartial observer the next time it
happens, I am available.

JESSE JACKSON
Is it being held hostage on the other side of the road?  I volunteer to
negotiate it's release.

INGRID NEWKIRK (head of Peta)
It is clear that chickens have been cruelly abused and exploited for 
centuries;  this chicken crossed the road because he was liberated by 
animal activists (not terrorists);  and we demand chicken rights NOW! 

CHARLTON HESTON
As Moses and titular head of the NRA, I say that every chicken has a 
destiny;  he must cross the road where the hunter, who has the
God given right, affirmed by the US Constitution, awaits him, in order to 
kill the bloody bastard.

God's reason for Cats and Dogs
 A newly discovered chapter in the Book of Genesis has provided the
 answer to "Where do pets come from?"
 Adam said, "Lord, when I was in the garden, you walked with me every
 day. Now I do not see you anymore. I am lonesome here & it is
 difficult for me to remember how much you love me."
 And God said, "No problem!  I will create a companion for you that
 will be with you forever & 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 & will love you as I do, in spite of yourself."
 And God created a new animal to be a companion for Adam. And
 it was a good animal. And God was pleased. And the new animal was
 pleased to be with Adam & he wagged his tail. And Adam said, "Lord, I
 have already named all the animals in the Kingdom & I cannot think of
 a name for this new animal."
 And God 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 & was a companion to him & loved him. And
Adam was comforted. And God was pleased. And Dog was content & wagged his
 tail.
 After a while, it came to pass that Adam's guardian angel came to
 the Lord and said, "Lord, Adam has become filled with pride. He struts
 and preens
 like a peacock & he believes he is worthy of adoration. Dog has indeed
 taught him that he is loved, but perhaps too well."
 And the Lord said, "No problem!  I will create for him a companion
 who will be with him forever & who will see him as he is. The
 companion will remind him of his limitations, so he will know that he
 is not always worthy of adoration."
 And God created CAT to be a companion to Adam. And Cat would not
 obey Adam.  And when Adam gazed into Cat's eyes, he was reminded that
 he was not the supreme being.And Adam learned humility.And God was
pleased.
 And Adam was greatly improved.And Dog was happy.
 And the cat didn't care one way or the other.

Thou shalt not jump onto the keyboard when thy human is on the modem.
Thou shalt not pull the phone cord out of the back of the modem.
Thou shalt not eat the modem, telephone cord or other computer
components.
Thou shalt not unroll all of the toilet paper off the roll and proceed
to eat it.
Thou shalt not sit in front of the television or monitor as if thou are
transparent.
Thou shalt not attack cats on the TV screen.
Thou shalt not project vomit from the top of the refrigerator (I said
this was for huskies only.)
Thou shalt not walk in on a dinner party and commence licking thybehind.
Thou shalt not lie down with thy behind in thy human's face.
Fast as thou art, thou cannot run through closed doors.
Thou shalt not reset thy human's alarm clock by walking on it.
Thou shalt not climb on the garbage can with the hinged lid, as thou
wilt fall in and trap thyself.
Thou shalt not jump onto the toilet seat just as thy human is
sittingdown.
Thou shalt not drinketh of said toilet then offer kisses to your human.
Thou shalt not jump onto thy sleeping human's bladder at 4 a.m.
Thou shalt realize that the house is not a prison from which to escape
at thy first opportunity.
Thou shalt not attempt to drive the car whilst the human is doing so
on the freeway.
Thou shalt not trip thy humans even if they are walking too slowly.
Thou shalt not push open the bathroom door when there are guests in
thy house.
Thou shalt remember that thou are a carnivore and that house plants
are not meat.
Thou shalt show remorse when being scolded.

===

Scott A. Ringwelski
Prov. 29:18
"The people without a vision perish..."

Don't accept your dog's admiration as conclusive evidence that you are
wonderful.
Ann Landers

If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to
go where they went.
Will Rogers

There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking
your face.
Ben Williams

A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than
he loves himself.
Josh Billings

The average dog is a nicer person than the average person.
Andy Rooney

We give dogs time we can spare, space we can spare and love we can spare.
And in return, dogs give us their all. It's the best deal man has ever made.
M. Acklam

Dogs love their friends and bite their enemies, quite
unlike people, who are incapabl e of pure love and always have to mix love
and hate.
Sigmund Freud

I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult.
Rita Rudner

A dog teaches a boy fidelity, perseverance, and to turn
around three times before lying down.
Robert Benchley

Dogs need to sniff the ground; it's how they keep abreast
of current events.
The ground is a giant dog newspaper, containing all kinds
of late-breaking dog news items,which, if they are especially urgent, are
often continued in the next yard.
Dave Barry

Anybody who doesn't know what soap tastes like never washed a dog.
Franklin P. Jones

If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain
dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons.
James Thurber

If your dog is fat, you aren't getting enough exercise.
Unknown

My dog is worried about the economy because Alpo is up to $3.00 a can.
That's almost $21.00 in dog money.
Joe Weinstein

Ever consider what our dogs must think of us? I mean, here we come back
from a grocery store with the most amazing haul - chicken, pork, half a cow.
They must think we're the greatest hunters on earth!
Anne Tyler

Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and
get used to the idea.
Robert A. Heinlein

Speak softly and own a big, mean Doberman.
Dave Miliman

If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite
you; that is the principal difference between a dog and a man.
Mark Twain

You can say any foolish thing to a dog, and the dog will
give you a look that says, 'Wow, you're right! I never would've thought of
that!'
Dave Barry

Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.
Roger Caras

If you think dogs can't count, try putting three dog
biscuits in your pocket and then giving Fido only two
of them.
Phil Pastoret

My goal in life is to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am.
Unknown
 

 

From the Dog Breeders Notebook: 
Some Suggested New "Crossbreeds":

 Pointer + Setter -> Poinsetter, a traditional Christmas pet

---

 Kerry Blue Terrier + Skye Terrier-> Blue Skye, a dog for visionaries

---

 Great Pyrenees + Dachshund->Pyradachs, a puzzling breed

---

 Pekingnese + Lhasa Apso ->Peekasso, an abstract dog

---

 Newfoundland + Basset Hound ->Newfound Asset Hound, a dog for financial  advisors

---

 Terrier + Bulldog ->Terribull, a dog prone to awful mistakes

---

 Malamute + Pointer  -Moot Point, owned by....oh, well, it doesn't matter  anyway

---

 Deerhound + Terrier ->Derriere, a dog that's true to the end

---

 Bull Terrier + Shitzu ->Bullshitz, a gregarious but unreliable breed

---

 Cocker Spaniel + Rottweiller ->Cockrot, the perfect puppy for that  philandering ex-husband

---

 Collie + Malamute -Commute, a dog that travels to work

---

 Irish Water Spaniel + English Springer Spaniel -Irish Springer, a dog  fresh and clean as a whistle

---

 Labrador Retriever + Curly-Coated Retriever ->Lab Coat Retriever, the  choice of research scientists

---

 Bloodhound + Labrador ->Blabador, a dog that barks incessantly

---

 Collie + Lhasa Apso > Collapso, a dog that folds up for easy transport

---

A mix of   golden retriever, beagle and collie --  a golden bialy.

"Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!" My father yelled at me.
>>"Can't you do anything right?" Those words hurt worse than blows. I
>turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me
>to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I
>wasn't >prepared for another battle.
>I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My
>voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.
>Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back.  At home I left
>Dad in
>front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark,
>heavy >clouds hung in the air with a promise of
>rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.
>What could I do about him?
>Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed
>being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the
>forces of
>nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed
>
>often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested
>to
>his prowess.
>The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a
>heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside
>
>alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased
>him
>about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done
>as a
>younger man.
>Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An
>ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR
>to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into
>an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.
>But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstin-
>ately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help
>were
>turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned,
>then
>finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.
>My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small
>farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him
>adjust.
>Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed
>nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became
>frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick.
>We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and
>explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling
>appointments
>for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe
>Dad's
>troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent.
>A raindrop struck my cheek. I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere
>up there was "God." Although I believe a Supreme Being had created the
>universe, I had difficulty believing that God cared about the tiny
>human
>being on this earth. I was tired of waiting for a God who didn't
>answer.
>Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.
>The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called
>each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I
>explained my
>problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain.
>Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly claimed, "I
>just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I
>listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at
>a
>nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic
>depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they
>were
>given responsibility for a dog.
>I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a
>questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of
>disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each
>contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs,
>black
>dogs, spotted dogs­all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each
>one but
>rejected one after the other for various reasons­too big, too small,
>too >much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far
>corner >struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It
>was a >pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature
>of >the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray.
>His >hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that
>caught >and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
>I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked,
>then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of
>nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring
>someone >would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've
>heard >nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.
>As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're
>going to kill him?"
>"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for
>every unclaimed dog."
>I looked at the pointer again.The calm brown eyes awaited my decision.
>"I'll take him," I said.
>I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached
>the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the
>car
>when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.
>"Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly. Dad looked,
>then
>wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have
>gotten
>one. And I would have picked out a better specimen
>than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm
>scornfully and turned back toward the house. Anger rose inside me. It
>squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.
>"You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me.
>"Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled
>angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and
>blazing with hate.
>We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer
>
>pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in
>front of
>him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.
>Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion
>replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad
>was on his knees hugging the animal.
>That was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the
>
>pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community.
>They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective
>moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even
>started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and

>Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

>Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years.
>Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then
>late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing
>through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at
>night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad
>lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly
>sometime during the night.
>Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered
>Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the
>rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite
>fishing
>hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in
>restoring
>Dad's peace of mind.
>The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day
>looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the
>pews
>reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends
>Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his
>eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his
>life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to
>entertain strangers." I've often thanked God for sending that angel,"
>he
>said.
>For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not
>seen
>before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right
>>article... Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. .
>.his
>>calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . .and the
>proximity of
>>their deaths. And suddenly I  derstood. I knew that ...
>God had answered my prayers after all.
>

Once I was a lonely dog, Just looking for a home. 
I had no place to go, No one to call my own. 
I wandered up and down the streets, in rain in heat and snow. 
I ate whatever I could find, I was always on the go. 
My skin would itch, my feet were sore, My body ached with pain. 
And no one stopped to give a pat Or to gently say my name. 
I never saw a loving glance, I was always on the run. For people thought that hurting me was really lots of fun. 
And then one day I heard a voice So gentle, kind and sweet, 
And arms so soft reached down to me And took me off my feet. 
"No one again will hurt you" Was whispered in my ear. "You'll have a home to call your own where you will know no fear." 
"You will be dry, you will be warm, you'll have enough to eat And rest assured that when you sleep, your dreams will all be sweet."
I was afraid I must admit, I've lived so long in fear. 
I can't remember when I let A human come so near. 
And as she tended to my wounds And bathed and brushed my fur She told me 'bout the rescue group And what it meant to her. 
She said, "We are a circle, A line that never ends. And in the center there is you protected by new friends." 
"And all around you are the ones that check the pounds, 
And those that share their home after you've been found."
"And all the other folk are searching near and far. To find the perfect home for you, where you can be a star."
She said, "There is a family, that's waiting patiently, and pretty soon we'll find them, just you wait and see."
"And then they'll join our circle they'll help to make it grow, so there'll be room for more like you, who have no place to go." 
I waited very patiently, The days they came and went. Today's the day I thought, my family will be sent. 
Then just when I began to think It wasn't meant to be, there were people standing there just gazing down at me. 
I knew them in a heart beat, I could tell they felt it too. 
They said, "We have been waiting for a special dog like you." 
Now every night I say a prayer to all the gods that be.
"Thank you for the life I live and all you've given me. 
But most of all protect the dogs in the pound and on the street. 
And send a Rescue Person to lift them off their feet." 

Arlene Pace September 18, 1998 

From: "LSM" <smcclur1@midsouth.rr.com>

A couple of months ago Victoria King asked me to 
take in a boy who had just about come to the end 
of his options, couldn't be placed and was at risk of
being euthanized.  He had also recently developed
a biting tendency which he did not have originally.
He was not "my" breed but I took him.  He was also 
a hard case but he has really wormed his way into 
my heart.  He is a CC and I call him Danny Boy, and
I wrote this about our life together so far.  I believe
that Danny has a very happy life somewhere in his
future. (Oh, groan, not another poem !)

Shannon McClure
Res Ipsa Italian Greyhounds
Addie's Safehouse IG Rescue
http://igrescue.org
smcclur1@midsouth.rr.com

*************************
For Danny Boy

He was salvaged in a mill raid -
The worst we've had around.
God bless the brave and fearless arms 
That swept him off that ground.

And bless the one who nursed him
Through weeks of touch and go.
Hers were the first kind, gentle hands
He ever got to know.

A hopeful family took him then,
But he couldn't pass that test.
They finally chose to send him back
'Cause he was too depressed.

They thought he wasn't happy there -
He never wagged at all,
Kept huddled to himself and wouldn't
Run and chase the ball.

It was just too much for Danny -
Wild confusion filled his head.
It was all he'd ever hoped for being
Warm and dry and fed.

A year'd gone by, the worst long past,
When he came to share my place.
He was such a pretty, pretty boy,
But, oh, that sad, sad face.

I'd LIKE to think there is a Bridge
Where they play and feel no fear,
But all I really know for sure
Is what we've got right here.

So we tossed the clock and calendar,
The schedule and training books -
Even passed like strangers in the hall
Trying not to exchange looks.

One day when I got home from work
He danced around the door,
But when I bent to touch him,
He fled just like before.

In his mind's eye he'd rushed back there,
Where the world was a cruel place,
And hands that reached out meant to hurt,
So, we'll move at Danny's pace.

He still may hide in corners,
Or jump at sudden noise,
But only just this week he learned
That he can play with toys.

Lately I've caught him watching me.
What is he thinking of ?
Those beatings, finding snow to drink,
Or just the cold, grey sky above ?

If he could, I think he'd tell me -
We would sit and talk awhile,
And maybe put those ghosts aside
And make each other smile.

Last night he jumped up on my bed
After the lights went dim,
And slept a few feet from me till
The sun came up again.

He gives me peeks into his heart
Without play-bows or licks.
He knows I don't need him to prove
That I can teach dogs tricks.

I don't believe he'll always feel
He needs to run and hide,
But Danny sets his own pace now,
'Cause time is on HIS side.

A day, a week, another year ?
(Or three or five or ten !)
I do not care how long it takes
Till Danny feels he's safe again.

I cannot help what came before,
Nor force a future bright.
But Danny Boy is here to stay.
I love you, son - Good night !

Shannon McClure
Addie's Safehouse
© 1999

This is another poem for those who rescue. Warning: Make sure you have some
kleenex handy. This will also make you want to go hug something furry. You
have been warned.

He Will Come

Don't close the door
Don't push me away
Why push me away
Don't make me stay

Slow down the car
I can't keep up
This pavement is hot
And my pads are cut

I've got to quit running
Or my heart will pop
Every muscle is aching
Why didn't you stop?

I'm so hungry and thirsty
Darkness is near
But I shouldn't leave
He will come for me here

Several weeks have passed
I'm dead on my feet
They call me a nuisance
Because I live off the streets

Every car that passes
I chase it to see
If it is my master
Coming for me

With hate in their eyes
And a cold heartless stare
They threaten to kill me
They don't even care

Batter my body
With rocks that they throw
I will not leave
He will come, don't you know?

Overtaken by weakness
My body is numb
I'm sick and so lonely
Oh please, let him come!

I will bo back
To where he first threw me out
I'll wait for him there
He will come, no doubt

My thoughts are fading,
My chest feels like lead
I'm sleepy, so sleepy
I can't lift my head

It's so quiet, so peaceful
All remains still
There is my master
At home on the hill

Yes, I can see him
He's calling my name
His voice is so gentle,
His hands are the same

He decided he wants me
Things will be fine
I really do love him
That master of mine

My tail wags with pleasure
I can't catch my breath
He came in my dream
But so did my death...
This was written by a SPCA worker

One day a cat dies of natural causes and goes to heaven.
 There he meets the Lord Himself. The Lord says to the cat,
 "You lived a good life and if there is any way I can make
 your stay in Heaven more comfortable, please let Me know."
 The cat thinks for a moment and says, "Lord, all my life I
 have lived with a poor family and had to sleep on a hard
 wooden floor." The Lord stops the cat and says, "Say no more,"
 and a wonderful fluffy pillow appears.

 A few days later, six mice are killed in a tragic farming
 accident and go to heaven. Again, there is the Lord there to
 great them with the same offer. The mice answer, "All of our
 lives we have been chased. We have had to run from cats, dogs
 and even women with brooms. Running, running, running; we're
 tired of running. Do you think we could have roller skates so
 we don't have to run anymore?" The Lord says, "Say no more,"
 and fits each mouse with beautiful new roller skates.

 About a week later the Lord stops by to see the cat and finds
 him snoozing on the pillow. The Lord gently wakes the cat and
 asks him, "How are things since you got here?"

 The cat stretches and yawns and replies, "It is wonderful here.
 Better than I could have ever expected. And those 'Meals On Wheels'
 you've been sending by are the best!"

This morning, I woke up & kissed my dad's head.
I peed on the carpet, then went back to bed.
"The life of a puppy, oh my, this is great."
Then I thought about breakfast," I hope it's not late."

Mom took me outside, we walked for a while.
This never fails to make Mama smile.
I sniffed of everything, that we did pass,
I ate something weird - it gave me gas.

I'm sure God loves me, I know that is true.
He gave me so many great things to chew.
Rugs, plants or rocks, I really don't care.
What I truly like best, is Dad's underwear.

That obedience book, was sort of yummy.
Though it didn't sit well on my poor puppy tummy.
I threw up a bit, but that was all right,
When Mom found it later, I was well out of sight.

I made streamers of T.P., while running at full speed.
Mom is pretty quick-but I was still in the lead.
I flew under the bed, and Mom flew past,
She stopped-shook her head, and breathed,
"You're too fast."

Mama later phoned Daddy, and said, "It was frightening!"
That afternoon, she was sure I'd pooped lightening.
She'd sat at the computer, while I chewed the cord,
She thought I was mad, but I was just bored.

When Mama had enough, couldn't take anymore,
That's when my tushy got shoved out the door.
I love it inside, but outside is best.
Lay in the cool grass, and had a good rest.

That didn't last long, there was too much to do-
Can't quite remember where I hid Daddy's shoe.
I found an old bone, and scratched at a flea,
I watched the dumb squirrels as they jumped in a tree.

I barked at the kids, when they got off the bus.
I can't figure out why this makes Mama fuss.
I barked at the neighbor, I barked at the wind.
I barked and barked, till Mom yelled, "COME IN."

The sun dipped in the west-soon Daddy would come!
I sure love my daddy: we always have fun.
I barked at my daddy, then turned on my charms,
I woo-wooed, "Hello," then jumped in his arms.

Sitting under the table - it's sooo hard to wait.
Daddy slipped me a goodie right off his plate.
I raced through the house, and scattered my toys,
Ricocheted off the furniture, and made lots of noise.

Mom found her purse - the one I abused.
Daddy let loose a chuckle. Mom asked "Amused??"
I cowered down low, I must be in trouble.
Dad said, "Wasn't MY boy, it must be his double!"

Mom turned off the TV, and said,"Time for bed."
Dad said "Let's go boy," and patted my head.
I got in my spot, between Mom and Dad,
I thought 'bout my day and what fun I had.

Mama kicked out my bone from the covers below,
Then let loose a sigh-a sigh deep and low.
She gave me a kiss, and snuggled me tight,
And whispered so softly, 'My darling goodnight'.

AUTHOR UNKNOWN

 A local business was looking for office help. They put a sign  in the >window stating the following: "Help wanted. Must be able to type,  must >be good with a computer, and must be bilingual. We are an  Equal Opportunity Employer."

A short time afterward, a dog trotted up  to the window, saw the sign >and went inside. He looked at the receptionist  and wagged his tail, >then walked over to the sign, looked at it and whined.  Getting the
idea, the receptionist got the office manager. The office  manager >looked at the dog and was surprised to say the least. However, the  dog >looked determined, so he lead him into the office. 

Inside, the  dog jumped up on the chair and stared at the manager.

The manager said,  "I can't hire you. The sign says you have to be able to type."

The dog  jumped down, went to the typewriter, and proceeded to type out >a perfect  letter. He took out the page and trotted over to the manager >and gave it to  him, then jumped back on the chair.

The manager was stunned but then told  the dog, "The sign says you have >to be good with a computer." The dog jumped  down and went to the>computer. The dog proceeded to enter and execute a  perfect program >that worked flawlessly the first time. By this time, the  manager was totally dumbfounded.

He looked at the dog and said, "I  realize that you are a very intelligent dog and have some interesting  abilities. However, I still can't give you the job."

The dog jumped  down and went to a copy of the sign and put his paw on >the sentence about  being an Equal Opportunity Employer. 

The manager said, "Yes, but the  sign also says that you have to be  bilingual." 

The dog looked at the  manager calmly and said, "Meow!"
 

HOW COULD YOU?  By Jim Willis, 2001
http://www.dogsaver.org/bhra/bassets16.html
>
> When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh.
You
> called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of
> murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad,"
> you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" -- but then you'd
> relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.
>
> My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were
> terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of
> nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams,
and
> I believed that life could not be any more perfect.
>
> We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice
cream
> (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I
> took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the
day.
>
> Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and
more
> time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you
> through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad
> decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in
> love.
>
> She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our
> home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you
> were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement.
I
> was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother
> them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent
most
> of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate.
>
> Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As they
> began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled
> themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my
ears,
> and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their
touch
> -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended
them
> with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their
> worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your
car
> in the driveway.
>
> There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you
> produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me.
These
> past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had
gone
> from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure
on
> my behalf.  Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and
you
> and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've
made
> the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your
> only family.

> I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter.
It
> smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the
> paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They
shrugged
> and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a
> middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."  You had to pry your son's
fingers
> loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take
my
> dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him
about
> friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect
for
> all life.
>
> You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely
refused
> to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I
> have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew
> about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another
> good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"
>
> They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules
> allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first,
> whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you
that
> you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped
it
> would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I
> realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy
> puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and
waited.
>  I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I
padded
> along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She
> placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My
heart
> pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of
> relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days.
>
> As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she
bears
> weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every
mood.
> She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her
> cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many
years
> ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the
> sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily,
> looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"
>
> Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She
> hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a
> better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have
to
> fend for myself -- a place of love and light so very different from this
> earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her
with
> a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her.
>
> It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will
> think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue
to
> show you so much loyalty.
>
> A Note from the Author: If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as
you
> read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the
composite
> story of the millions of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in
American
> & Canadian animal shelters.

> Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as
> long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice. Please use it
to
> help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet
> office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to
the
> family is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and
> sensible care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is
your
> responsibility and any local humane society or animal welfare league can
> offer you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your part
to
> stop the killing, and encourage all spay & neuter campaigns in order to
> prevent unwanted animals.  -Jim Willis
>
> [Unable to display image]
>
> Please pass this on to everyone, not to hurt them or make them sad, but it
> could save maybe, even one,
> unwanted pet.
>
> Remember...They love UNCONDITIONALLY, If you give them LOVE :)

> 

> Dogs' letters to God 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > How come people love to smell flowers, but seldom, 
> > if ever, smell one another? What are they thinking? 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > When we get to Heaven, can we sit on your couch? 
> > Or is it the same old story? 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, 
> > the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, 
> > but not one named for a dog? How often do you see 
> > a cougar riding around? We dogs love a nice ride!
> > I know every breed cannot have its own model, but 
> > it would be easy to rename the Chrysler Eagle the
> > Chrysler Beagle! 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > If a dog barks his head off in the forest and no 
> > human hears him, is he still a bad dog? 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > Is it true that in Heaven, dining room tables 
> > have onramps? 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > More meatballs, less spaghetti, please. 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > When we get to the Pearly Gates, do we have to 
> > shake hands to get in? 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > We dogs can understand human verbal instructions, 
> > hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, 
> > scent IDs, electromagnetic energyfields, and Frisbee 
> > flight paths. What do humans understand? 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > Are there dogs on other planets, or are we alone? 
> > I have been howling at the moon and stars for a 
> > long time, but all I ever hear back is the beagle 
> > across the street. 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will 
> > I have to apologize? 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > When my family eats dinner they always bless their 
> > food. But they never bless mine. So, I've been wagging 
> > my tail extra fast when they fill my bowl. 
> > Have you noticed my own blessing? 
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > I've always lived at the shelter and I have everything 
> > I need. But many of the dogs here have names and 
> > I don't. Could you give me a name please? It would 
> > be good for my self-esteem.
> > 
> > Dear God, 
> > The new terrier I live with just peed on the Oriental 
> > rug and I have a feeling my family might blame me 
> > 'cuz they think I'm jealous of this stupid dog. Since 
> > they have no sense of smell, how can I convince them 
> > I'm innocent? Does PetsMart sell lie detectors? 
> > 
> > Found on the Internet 

Rescued Dog

Once I was a lonely dog,
Just looking for a home.
I had no place to go,
No one to call my own.
I wandered up and down the streets,
in rain in heat and snow.
I ate whatever I could find,
I was always on the go.
My skin would itch, my feet were sore,
My body ached with pain.
And no one stopped to give a pat
Or to gently say my name.
I never saw a loving glance,
I was always on the run.

For people thought that hurting me

was really lots of fun.
And then one day I heard a voice
So gentle, kind and sweet,
And arms so soft reached down to me
And took me off my feet.
"No one again will hurt you
Was whispered in my ear."
"You'll have a home to call your own
where you will know no fear."
"You will be dry, you will be warm,
you'll have enough to eat."
"And rest assured that when you sleep,
your dreams will all be sweet."
I was afraid I must admit,
I've lived so long in fear.
I can't remember when I let
A human came so near.
And as she tended to my wounds
And bathed and brushed my fur
She told me about the rescue group
And what it meant to her.
She said, "We are a circle,
A line that never ends".
"And in the center there is you
protected by new friends".
"And all around you are
the ones that check the pounds,
And those that share their home
after you've been found".
"And all the other folk
are searching near and far.
"To find the perfect home for you,
where you can be a star".
She said, "There is a family,
that's waiting patiently,
and pretty soon we'll find them,
just you wait and see".
"And then they'll join our circle
they'll help to make it grow,
so there'll be room for more like you,
who have no place to go".
I waited very patiently,
The days they came and went.
Today's the day I thought,
my family will be sent.
Then just when I began to think
It wasn't meant to be,
there were people standing there
just gazing down at me.
I knew them in a heartbeat,
I could tell they felt it too.
They said, "We have been waiting
for a special dog like you".
Now every night I say a prayer
to all the gods that be.
"Thank you for the life I live
and all you've given me.
But most of all protect the dogs
in the pound and on the street.
And send a Rescue Person
to lift them off their feet".

Arlene Pace
September 18, 1998

I don't remember much from the place I was born. It was cramped and dark,
and we were never played with by the humans. I remember Mom and her soft
fur, but she was often sick, and very thin. She had hardly any milk for me
and my brothers and sisters. I remember many of them dying, and I missed
them so. I do remember the day I was taken from Mom. I was so sad and scared,
my milk teeth had only just come in, and I really should have been with Mom
still, but she was so sick, and the Humans kept saying that they wanted money
and were sick of the "mess" that me and my sister made. So we were crated up
and taken to strange place. Just the two of us. We huddled together and were
scared, still no human hands came to pet or love us.
 

So many sights and sounds, and smells! We are in a store where there are
many different animals! Some that squawk! some that meow! Some that Peep!
My sister and I are jammed into a small cage, I hear other puppies here. I
see humans look at me, I like the 'little humans', the kids. they look so
sweet, and fun, like they would play with me!  All day we stay in the small
cage, sometimes mean people will hit the glass and frighten us, every once in
a while we are taken out to be held or shown to humans. Some are gentle some
hurt us, we always hear "Aw they are So cute! I want one!" but we never get to
go with any.
My sister died last night, when the store was dark. I lay my head on her
soft fur and felt the life leave her small thin body. I had heard them say
she was sick, and that I should be sold as a "discount price" so that I
 would quickly leave the store. I think my soft whine was the only one that
 mourned for her as her body was taken out of the cage in the morning and
dumped.
 

Today, a family came and bought me! Oh happy day! They are a nice
family, they really, really wanted me! They had bought a dish and food and the
little girl held me so tenderly in her arms. I love her so much! The mom
and dad say what a sweet and good puppy I am! I am named Angel. I love to lick
my
new humans! The family takes such good care of me, they are loving and tender
and sweet. They gentle teach me right and wrong, give me good food, and lots
of
love! I want only to please these wonderful people! I love the little girl
and I enjoy running and playing with her.
 

Today I went to the veterinarian. it was a strange place and I was frightened.
I got some shots, but my best friend the little girl held me softly and said
it would be OK. So I relaxed. The Vet must have said sad words to my beloved
family, because
they looked awfully sad. I heard Severe hip dysplacia, and something about
my heart... I heard the vet say something about, back yard breeders and my
parents not being tested.  I know not what any of that means, just that it
hurts me to see my family so sad. but they still love me, and I still love
them very much!
 

I am 6 months old now. Where most other puppies are robust and rowdy, It
hurts me terribly just to move. The pain never lets up. It hurts to run
and play with my beloved little girl, and I find it hard to breath. I keep
trying my best to be the strong pup I know I am supposed to be, but it is
so hard. it breaks my heart to see the little girl so sad, and to hear the Mom
and Dad talk about "it might now be the time". Several times I have went to
that veterinarians place, and the news is never good. Always talk about
Congenital Problems. I just want to feel the warm sunshine and run, and
play and nuzzle with my family. Last night was the worst, Pain has been my
constant now, it hurts even to get up and get a drink. I try to get up but
can only whine in pain. I taken in the car one last time. Everyone is so
sad, and I don't know why. have I been bad? I try to be good and loving,
what have I done wrong? Oh if only this pain would be gone! If only I could
soothe the tears of the little girl. I reach out my muzzle to lick her
hand, but can only whine in pain. the veterinarians table is so cold. I am so
frightened.
 

The humans all hug and love me, they cry into my soft fur. I can feel their
love and sadness. I manage to lick softly their hands. Even the vet doesn't
seem so scary
today. he is gentle and I sense some kind of relief for my pain.  The
little girl hold me softly and I thank her, for giving me all her love. I feel
a soft
pinch in my foreleg. The pain is beginning to lift, I am beginning to feel
a peace descend upon me.  I can now softly lick her hand.  My vision is
becoming dreamlike now, and I see my Mother and my brothers and sisters,
in a far off green place. They tell me there is no pain there, only peace
and happiness. I tell the family, good-bye in the only way I know how, a soft
wag of my tail and a nuzzle of my nose. I had hoped to spend many, many
moons with them, but it was not meant to be. "You see," said the veterinarian
"Petshop puppies do not come from ethical breeders." The pain ends now, and I
know it will be many years until I see my beloved family again. If only things
could have been different.
 

  (This story may be published or reprinted in the hopes that it will stop
  unethical breeders and those who breed only for money and not for the
  betterment of the breed. Copywrite 1999 J. Ellis)

8:00 a.m. Oh, boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9:30 a.m. Oh, boy! A car ride! My favorite!
9:40 a.m. Oh, boy! A walk! My favorite!
10:30 a.m. Oh, boy! Getting rubbed and petted! My favorite!
11:30 a.m. Oh, boy! Dog food! My favorite!
Noon- Oh, boy! The kids! My favorite!
1:00 p.m. Oh, boy! The yard! My favorite!
4:00 p.m. Oh, boy! To the park! My favorite!
5:00 p.m. Oh, boy! Dog food! My favorite!
5:30 p.m. Oh, boy! Pretty Mums! My favorite!
6:00 p.m. Oh, boy! Playing ball! My favorite!
6:30 a.m. Oh, boy! Watching TV with my master! My favorite!
8:30 p.m. Oh, boy! Sleeping in master's bed! My favorite!

EXCERPTS FROM A CAT'S DAILY DIARY:
Day 183 of My Captivity: My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little 
dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat 
dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the 
mild scolding I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture.

Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant. Today my attempt to kill my captors by 
weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded; must try 
this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these 
vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite 
chair, must try this on their bed.

Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in an attempt to make 
them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their 
hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was. 

Hmmm, not working according to plan...

There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in 
solitary confinement throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise 
and smell the food. More importantly, I overheard that my confinement was due 
to my power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my 
advantage. 

I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is 
routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a 
half-wit. The bird, on the other hand, has got to be an informant, and speaks 
with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his 
current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured. But I can wait - 
It is only a matter of time......