An empty collar hangs by our door.
Never to be used by our friend any more.
Old age took hold.
We all grow old.
We think back and remember when she chased after a deer.
We still feel her near.
Our hearts are saddened.
But in some ways they are gladdened.
For her pain is gone.
But ours lingers on.
Yes our pain remains.
The worlds not the same.
How long will it last?
Time moves on so fast.
We know we will see her again.
We just don’t know when.
Her presence is felt in the room as I write.
She’s letting me know that she is all right.
She told me it was time for her to go.
She could always talk to us you know.
Passing over was easy and dignified.
Because we made it so.
She asks that we remember with joy.
The Countess Squeak of Toy.
An Airedale that will not be forgotten.
Thanks for sharing our home old friend.
|17, Sep 2002|
|Bob and Donna Stewart|