Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called The Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal who has been especially close to someone dies, that pet goes to the 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 and water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
Animals who were 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 from days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one thing: they miss someone very special to them; the person they left behind.
Roxie
weet, gentle Roxie has left us on 2/24/12 and is now running free across the Rainbow Bridge. She was surrendered to rescue in December 2011 with a body broken down from too many puppies and too much food. She was only 6 years old. We put her on a diet and provided therapy to aid in her mobility, but suddenly last week she began to fail. She spent several days at our wonderful vet’s, and they tried, but tragically she succumbed to kidney failure and pancreatitis. Her short time with us was filled with the loving care from her foster mom and pug brother and sister. She truly became part of their family and she will be deeply missed by all of us at CCPR. Roxie was one of the sweetest pugs we have ever met – always happy and full of love and joy. This is not how we imagined your journey with us would end. Goodbye Little One.“It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them. And every new dog who comes into my life, gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are.” — Author Unknown
Where To Bury A Dog
by Ben Hur Lampman
There are various places within which a dog may be buried. 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 flavorful bone, or lifted head to challenge some strange intruder. These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else. For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. 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. One place that is best of all. If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, 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 should not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he is yours and he belongs there. People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hears no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing. The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master.