Rest in doggie peace, Rawley. Do find your three brothers there - Finny, Kirby, and Rascal - where'er you next wander. Maybe chase a few deer, squirrels, or a pesky turkey or two on your eternal journey. It's only natural.
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| Today, in your favorite spot. |
I will shovel the remaining spring snows without you attacking my shovel; I won't forget as I toss a shovelful of whiteness on your bounding spirit. Ever the snow-nose you were, biting and licking my snowbanks incessantly, especially in these last several days as you scorned water and food, the snow now your only source of water.
We will walk in your memory-shadow as it tugs playfully on your leash - a habit we expected you would outgrow after puppyhood. You never lost that puppy-ness in play, leash firmly in your mouth, tugging, growling, scampering about in earnest defense against imagined dangers. Walking the waterlines, barking at the waves, imploring they retreat! as they always do, as yet another approaches your defenses. But if children were around, your defenses dropped and your calm demeanor rose to charm little hands.
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| He loved his walks, and that ever regal pose. |
Nor forgotten: your regal posture in the summer garden, watching me tend, observing all the natural wonders that passed you by. You were a quiet dog, rarely barking except in these latter months, your deafness perhaps giving rise to confirm that you could still feel yourself bark, letting all o'er there know of your presence.
Your passionate silent begging, your muzzle on Becky's lap in the evening imploring a treat be given. Wishful, dark, observant eyes - oh, what language they spoke!
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| First contact: September 1st, 2007 Born: July 8th, 2007 |
As Twain and others have said, if dogs do not go to heaven, then we want to go where you go. We will await to reunite our kindred souls. In the garden, in peace. . . with many fond memories.
