I may have posted this a few years ago; if so, forgive me, as I just ran across it again. The writer was an Oregon author, Ben Hur Lampman, and the words just really speak to my heart as a an absolute fool for dogs. Thank you for the gift of them Author of the Universe!


Where To Bury A Dog

There are various places within 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 an 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 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 hear 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.[/B] Where To Bury A Dog

There are various places within 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 an 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 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 hear 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.

Making me think of old pals. One was waiting for me to come home after I had married and moved out. One night the weather got too bad to get home on the gravel roads in Misery. I stayed at Mom and Dad's house in town, and the Queen of the house was so happy to see me. I slept well and got up in the morning and there was my Queeny on the step in a deep sleep. I miss all my dogs when I think of them and their utter loyalty. One day I hope to be the guy my dogs think I am.

I don't have a lot of hopes or aspirations about the afterlife.
I of course wish for Heaven, but I don't look forward to crowns or mansions, golden streets or riches.
I don't have to be reunited with grandparents or loved ones. Sure, I want to know they're all in Heaven and happy, but they'll no longer be 80, I'll not be an 8year old so I don't know what that'll be like.

I want my dogs in Heaven. All my dogs. I want to sit on the river with them, I want to flush pheasants. I want to feed my dogs and trip over them. The ones that wouldn't sleep on the bed with me, I'd like them to and the ones that would I'd like them to stay longer.

I want to see my dogs and have them with me in Heaven.

Hey Scott, I read that to Renee. She liked it. I did too.

Scott, very nice thoughts. Thanks for sharing them. I miss all my dogs and think of them daily.

Thanks guys.
In my mind, bird dogs are the toughest to deal with. Big game hunting dogs are assumed to fight, get hurt and somr die of their passion and sport. A pet or a show dog is superficial by design. I can see the emotional attachment of a working dog like a police or military k9, but it is professional, they are retired.

Bird dogs are handled/operated / fielded/ hunted with, loved, doted on, zealously defended and cherished from 7weeks of age til far beyond their last breath. We've all seen and probably participated in many hunts designed around the peculiarities, hang ups, handicaps, disabilities or preferences of some damned dog. Lord knows I've orchestrated a bunch of em.

So we spend six or twelve years obsessing over these turd pushers and then we're supposed to administer their death and go on about our day.

Not easy.