To our fallen 4 legged friends.

Dedicated to our friends (with four or two feet)

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To our fallen 4 legged friends.

Postby stretcharmstrong » Fri Feb 09, 2007 7:39 pm

Hopefully this hasn't been posted already but I thought it a fitting tribute to all our 4 legged hunting companions who one day we will be with again.


Where Shall I Bury My Dog?
The Portland Oregonian, September 11, 1925
By Ben Hur Lampman

“A subscriber of the Ontario Argus has written to the editor asking, ‘Where shall I bury my dog?’ It is asked in advance of death.

We would say to the Ontario man that there are various places in which a dog may be buried. We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub of the garden, is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavorous bone, or lifted his head to challenge some strange intruder. These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter.

For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked, and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, and nothing lost—if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog.

If you bury him in this spot, he will come to you when you call—come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel, they shall not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he belongs there. People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing. The one best place to bury a dog is in the heart of the master.â€

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