Finding Beau


     What happened to BEAU  --------------------------------------------  About BEAU  --------------------------------------------  My Search for BEAU  --------------------------------------------Media Stories   --------------------------------------------

HOBSON - Contact Details   --------------------------------------------

     A Message from JESSIE  --------------------------------------------The Death of KHOMET   --------------------------------------------The English Setter Breed   --------------------------------------------

     The Legal Status of a Dog   --------------------------------------------Stolen Dogs   --------------------------------------------  

     Pet Grief  --------------------------------------------  Poems and Stories  --------------------------------------------

     How You Can Help   --------------------------------------------    Favourite Links  --------------------------------------------Home  --------------------------------------------


The following are extracts from books and poems, in no specific order, which talk primarily about a dog .. man's Best Friend .. as well as animals and the natural environment.

A poem by an Unknown Author

He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.

A poem by George G Vest

The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. When all other friends desert, he remains.

A poem by Rudyard Kipling

A dog .. he will be our friend for always and always and always.

A quotation by Mahatma Ghandi

The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.

A quotation by Leonardo da Vinci

The time will come when men such as I will look upon the murder of animals as they now look on the murder of men.

'Dogs That Know When Their Owners Are Coming Home And Other Unexplained Powers of Animals' by Rupert Sheldrake

Beau and his mate, KhometThis is a book of recognition .. a recognition that animals have abilities that we have lost. One part of ourselves has forgotten this; another part has known it all along.

A great gulf began to open up between my own experience of animals and plants and the scientific approach that I was being taught. I later came to see that the split I experienced within myself is widespread within and outside the scientific community.

I realised that the animals we know the best have much to teach us. They can help enlarge our understanding of life.

There is nothing new about the uncanny abilities of animals. They are ignored by institutional science. Pets are the animals we know best, but their most surprising and intriguing behaviour is treated as of no real interest. Why should this be so ?

One reason is a taboo against taking pets seriously. This taboo is not confined to scientists, but is a result of the split attitudes to animals expressed in our society as a whole.

Another is the taboo against taking psychic or 'paranormal' phenomena seriously. They are called paranormal because they cannot be explained in conventional scientific terms; they do not fit in with the mechanistic theory of nature.

'Biophilia' by Edward O. Wilson, Entomologist and Evolutionary Biologist

We are inextricably part of Nature, but human uniqueness is not negated thereby. "Nothing but an Animal" is as fallacious a statement as "Created in God's own image". Is it not mere hubris (insolent pride) to argue that Homo sapiens is special in some sense .. for each species is unique in its own way.

Shall we judge among the dance of the bees, the song of the humpback whale and human intelligence ??

'Animal Thinking' by Donald R. Griffin, Animal Behaviorist

My beloved dachshund Benmore Human consciousness and subjective feeling are so obviously important and useful to us that it seems unlikely that they are unique to a single species. This assumption of a human monopoly on conscious thinking becomes more and more difficult to defend as we learn about the ingenuity of animals in coping with problems in their normal lives.

'Changed Concepts of Brain and Consciousness: Some Value Implications' by Roger Sperry, Nobel Prize-Winning Neurobiologist

The Creator and Creation cannot be separated. The two of necessity become intimately interfused and evolve together in a relation of mutual interdependence.

Thus, what destroys, degrades or enhances one does the same to the other.

'All Be-ings Great and Small' by Laurel Steinhice and Edgar Cayce

All life forms upon the earthplanet are connected to each other and to the planet itself. All Be-ings hold within themselves a spark of Universal Life Force, a living self-linkage to All-That-Is. All creatures great and small are spiritual. Into each species was breathed the Breath of Life, as it was in the Beginning. All species have evolved spiritually, as well as physically, since the Beginning of timespace upon that entity which is called the Earth.

Life does not stand still upon itself. It flows.

In the age of transition in which the many veils are lifted, the many limitations are set aside in the process of co-creating new realities. New bondings are formed between once species and another. Old bondings are rediscovered, strengthened and re-newed.

There is a sharing of new realities between humanity and other earthplanet life forms, and this sharing is an important part of the Reunion itself. Each of us is unique. And we are all One.

'The Crocodiles are Crying' by Rupert McCall, 2006

Steve Irwin, the original Wildlife Warrior





Endless visions fill my head – this man – as large as life, And instantly my heart mourns for his angels and his wife. Because the way I see Steve Irwin – just put everything aside, it comes back to his family – it comes back to his pride.

His animals inclusive – Crikey – light the place with love! Shine his star with everything he fought to rise above. The crazy-man of Khaki from the day he left the pouch, Living out his dream and in that classic ‘Stevo’ crouch.

Exploding forth with character and redefining cheek. It’s one thing to be honoured as a champion unique. It’s one thing to have microphones and spotlight cameras shoved. It’s another to be taken in and genuinely loved.

But that was where he had it right – I guess he always knew, From his fathers’ modest reptile park and then Australia Zoo. We cringed at times and shook our heads – but true to natures call, There was something very Irwin in the make up of us all.

Yes the more I care to think of it – the more he had it right. If you’re going to make a difference – make it big and make it bright! Yes - he was a lunatic! Yes - he went head first! But he made the world feel happy with his energetic burst.

A world so large and loyal that it’s hard to comprehend. I doubt we truly count the warmth until life meets an end. To count it now I say a prayer with words of inspiration, May the spotlight shine forever on his dream for conservation.

…My daughter broke the news to me – my six year old in tears. It was like she’d just turned old enough to show her honest fears. I tried to make some sense of it but whilst her Dad was trying, his little girl explained it best…she said "THE CROCODILES ARE CRYING. ”

Their best mate’s up in heaven now – the crocs up there are smiling! And as sure as flowers, poems and cards and memories are piling, As sure as we’ll continue with the trademarks of his spiel, Of all the tributes worthy – he was rough…but he was real.

As sure as ‘Crikey!’ fills the sky, I think we’ll miss ya Steve…goodbye

'Learning their Language .. Intuitive Communication with Animals and Nature' by Marta Williams

My soul mate Misty BlueAnimals have a unique way of affecting our hearts. They sidle in closer than humans do, opening us up emotionally and allowing us to confide our deepest thoughts, feelings, and aspirations. A nuzzle, a lick, a meow, or a rub can bring a smile and make our day.

If humans hope to survive and thrive on this earth, we will have to re-learn how to live in partnership with all other life forms. Our beliefs about animals and the natural world must shift to something more like those of our ancestors and contemporary indigenous people. There is tremendous power in being able to communicate intuitively with animals and nature .. a power to help stop destruction and bring protection and positive change.

Most of us have been taught that only humans are rational and that animals do not have sophisticated emotions the way we do. The idea that other aspects of nature could be sentient is simply not entertained. My experience with animals and nature contradicts this. I am certain that animals are as complex as we are and that there is intelligence and spiritual awareness in every form of life on the earth.

I have seen that once people experience intuitive communication with animals, their perception of the world changes. Each animal on earth becomes an individual with the same qualities of sentience, emotion, and spirit that humans have. Once you have really communicated with animals, it is impossible to go back to thinking of them as inferior or limited.

What is needed now is for many more people to take enlightened action on behalf of the animals and the earth.

People of indigenous cultures see intuitive communication as normal human behaviour. To them, animals, plants, and the features of the land are relatives; every form of life has feelings, intelligence, spirit, and the ability to communicate, regardless of form and species. These are the words of a holy woman of the Wintu tribe of California commenting on the destruction of nature brought about by the Gold Rush in that state:

'The white people never cared for land or deer or bear. When we Indians kill meat, we eat it all up. When we dig roots we make little holes. When we build houses, we make little holes. When we burn grass for grasshoppers, we don't ruin things. We shake down acorns and pine nuts. We don't chop down the trees. We only use dead wood. But the white people plow up the ground, pull down the trees, kill everything. The tree says, "No. I am sore. Don't hurt me." But they chop it down and cut it up. The spirit of the land hates them. They blast out trees and stir it up to its depths. They saw up the trees. That hurts them. The Indians never hurt anything, but the white people destroy all. They blast rocks and scatter them on the ground. The rock says, "Don't. You are hurting me". But the white people pay no attention. When the Indians use rocks, they take little round ones for their cooking. How can the spirit of the earth like the white man ? Everywhere the white man has touched it, it is sore.'

Science, Animals and Nature

Jessie, Bandit, Misty Blue, Sparkie and their mumPeople often think it ridiculous that animals can have feelings or that they might possess the ability to reason. Animals are seen as blindly acting out of instinct in all situations. Most animal lovers know this to be inaccurate. Why is it that, unlike indigenous people, modern humans view animals and other life forms as inferior ????

Modern science institutionalised the lowered status of the natural world. A handful of scientists have challenged the status quo and have provided undeniable proof that animals can feel grief, joy, and anger just as deeply as we can. Yet modern scientists insist that animals can't have feelings, and any inquiry into this question is ridiculed. There are probably many reasons for this resistance on the part of the scientific community, not the least of which is the fact that if animals and other life forms are seen as able to feel intensely and as equal to humans, they will have to be treated accordingly. This would require a change in virtually every aspect of modern life, particularly the world of commerce.

A poem by White Cloud, Head Chief of the Iowas

Man has a poor understanding of life. He mistakes knowledge for Wisdom. He tries to unveil the holy secrets of our Father, the Great Spirit.

He attempts to impose his laws and ways on Mother Earth. Even though he himself is a part of Nature, he chooses to disregard and ignore it, for the sake of his own immediate gain. But the laws of Nature are much stronger than those of mankind. He must realise that this planet does not belong to him, that he must care for and maintain the delicate balance of Nature for the sake of the well-being of our children and all future generations.

Mankind is but a grain of sand in the Holy Circle which encloses all life.

A Cree Indian philosophy

Friendship between a deer and a rabbitOnly after the last tree has been cut down. Only after the last fish has been caught. Only after the last river has been poisoned. Only then will you realise that money cannot be eaten.

A quotation by an Unknown Author

Civilised man has marched across the face of the Earth and left a desert in his footprints.

'Learning Journey on the Red Road' by Floyd Looks for Buffalo Hand

The time has come for all the people of this world to come together to the heartbeat of Mother Earth .. to respect each other and all the things that the Creator has given us .. so that some day we may become of one mind, one heart and one spirit.

People today have lost sight of the principles of a beautiful way of life and have instead adopted thirty pieces of silver.

Remember .. the one thing that no one can ever take away from you is your spirit, because you cannot take anything that you cannot see.

'The Sacred Hoop' by Paula Gunn Allen

When I was small, my mother often told me that animals, insects, and plants are to be treated with the kind of respect one customarily accords to high-status adults. "Life is a circle, and everything has its place in it" she would say.

An Angel Channelling from Hariel, Guardian Angel of Tame Animals by Angela McGerr

Baby Beau with Jessie, my beloved English Setters

Mine are the creatures that bring such joy to your life. My message is one of grateful thanks, for you are one who loves and cares for my innocent ones, and through doing so you draw ever close to me .. for All Life is sacred.

I see your actions and I am with you as you help those who are helpless, and rejoice in their company. How uncomplicated they seem compared to mankind, and life would be simpler if people were to act more as pets do .. without judgement, with acceptance, giving unconditional love.

Your love of animals will lead to guidance from them. If it has not already happened, a pet will come into your life to bring about expansion of your spirit. These are animals with ancient souls who come to teach and develop their human owners. Often it is because you feel closer to your pet than to other humans, and this is a valuable means of learning a lesson of life and progressing onwards.

Your kindness and gentleness may be coupled with sensitivity and it is this that causes many of your hurts and upsets. Your animals will help to heal you and will try to bring you into contact with the right people, those of a like mind, who will respect your personality and respond gently and favourably to it, thus helping to shape your future.

A poem written for Beau by Margo Bernard

Beau on his mum's lap with Jessie You were my life, and all I dreamed you would be. Our life was full of bliss and tranquility. Beautiful white coat with shades of orange-brown. The "Face of an Angel", best dog in town !

One minute you were there, the next you were gone. My search for you endless, just goes on and on. Where did they take you? Where did you go? My beloved English Setter whose name is "Beau".

For you would never leave me, we were bonded like glue. If I searched the world over, there's only "one you". My life now is shattered, my world torn apart. I feel I will die with my now "broken heart".

For you never would leave me, how well I know that. I look tearfully at your photos and reminders of you. I know you were stolen, because of your rare breed. By persons unknown, yes driven by greed.

But lies cannot stay hidden, and the Truth will reveal. And a cold prison cell awaits for all that do steal. l search every day and I cry every night. But trust me and know I'll not give up the fight.

Thousands now know, and thousands now pray. And Margo said "You will find him one day". And I'll run toward you, my tears they will flow. And say "Welcome Home My Beautiful Beau".

A poem written for Beau by Allya Pongitiaran

His name is 'Beau'. Where has he gone ? I do not know ! No matter how hard I try, I just cannot say goodbye. My love for you will never die. I think about you, and I cry. I will never forget you. You're my one and only, my baby 'Beau'. I know in my heart you're still alive. No matter what, you will survive.

'Journey into Nature' by Michael Roads

A boy and his best friend, his dog, prayingI am a large dog, a Great Dane, and I live on a farm. My name is Whisky.

I experience my years of puppyhood by eternally playing with the children who live on the farm. I live in the house with the family, spending the winter evenings on a rug before a blazing fire. I am loved, and that love is part of my connection with life. I need love; I thrive on it. To be stroked and patted is rapture. The love of my owners is as vital to my wellbeing as food.

When I am fully grown, something dreadful happens. I am dismissed from the house ! I no longer sleep on the rug before the fire. I feel that I am shamed, but no punishment for misdeed is inflicted. Nobody tells me why I am banned from the house and garden, but it happens.

I am given a new bed in the soft hay in the hay barn. I lack nothing in comfort, and if the evenings are more chilly it does not greatly concern me. What festers within me is the lack of stroking and touching on which I thrive. But I cannot reflect on such matters. I live what is. If something is missing, it is missing for all time.

I grow older, less capable, while the children of the farm become stronger and more capable. My special attention is always focused on the master of the farm. A look of love from him lights me up; a frown of anger devastates me. That he loves me is apparent. I can read his energy as easily as I can read any human energy. Humans are an open book. Emotions play out in streams of energy around them, signalling their intentions long before they act.

Love is my life. To love and be loved is my purpose, and I know this with every atom of my being. The disquiet I feel at being removed from the house is never in my head, but it is me. The ruling never has to be enforced. Once removed, I know the rule but never why. I am never tied up. I have freedom. The whole farm is mine to roam, but the house and garden are banned.

As I grow older, an ache develops in one of my front legs. Gradually, it becomes a deep-seated pain, not intense but an endless throbbing. I limp, and this is difficult on my long, rather clumsy legs.

I ail, moving less and less frequently from my snug bed in the hay barn. I see less of the children, and this also becomes a pain. I see far less of my master as well, for his work consumes his time. Only when he feeds me do we physically connect. I deteriorate rapidly in health and condition.

One day, my master comes to me, and I know he carries my death. The distress emanating from him is terrible, and my fear for him is paramount. Suddenly, there is a duality. I am a dog, suffering from a growth in my leg, and I am my master, crying as I hide my gun behind me.   My master wraps his arms around my neck, and I feel him shaking in anguish. I watch, unresisting, as my master levels the gun at me. I gaze into those blue human eyes, and my love pours forth. Abruptly, there is a tremendous shock to my head followed by a far distant explosion. I am no longer in pain. I am light, free, the spirit of a dog, loving my human master. I gaze at him as he holds the bloodied head of my dead body. I try to lick the tears from his face. I want him to know that I bear no grudge, but he is unaware of me. I want him to know that I love him.

As my master holds my shattered head, the grief pours out of him. His thoughts hold only one phrase: ‘If only, if only ! If only I had let her live her life in the house with us. Why did I allow such petty issues to change things ? So she knocked the children over with her great size. So what ? Did they ever complain ? So she left a large pool of saliva on the lounge floor where she slept ! How trivial it now seems.’

My master cries, cradling my head in his arms, my blood mingling with his tears. He feels the guilt of shame and failure as a dog owner. He realises the overwhelming love I had for him.

'Cheyenne ~ An Angel Unawares' by an Unknown Author

"Watch out! You nearly broad-sided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?"

Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had revelled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered gruelling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess. The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky. He survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did.

I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counselling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent.

A raindrop struck my cheek. I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere up there was "God." Although I believe a Supreme Being had created the universe, I had difficulty believing that God cared about the tiny human being on this earth. I was tired of waiting for a God who didn't answer. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain.

Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

Bandit rescued from the poundI drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odour of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs-all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons. Too big, too small, too much hair.

As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the room and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?" "Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog." I looked at the pointer again.  The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.

I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch. "Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.

Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it!!!! I don't want it!!!" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house. Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!!!" Dad ignored me.

"Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, ~ his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duellists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favourite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2.

"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers. I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: The sympathetic voice that had just read the right article. Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter. His calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. The proximity of their deaths. - And suddenly I understood, and I knew. God had answered my prayers after all.

'Just a Horse' by an Unknown Author

My beautiful Arabian friend, KhometFrom time to time, someone will comment how they don't understand my passion for horses. When I try to explain they will generally reply by saying something like ... " but it's just a horse!"  I know then that I can't justify in their minds the distances travelled, the time spent, or the costs involved with owning "just a horse."  But I know you understand ...

Many of my proudest moments have happened with "just a horse." Some of my most peaceful and soulful memories have occurred when my only company was "just a horse."

Some of my saddest times have involved "just a horse." Because of "just a horse" I will rise early, work hard and look longingly to the future. And in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of "just a horse" will give me comfort, understanding and love that will put my soul at ease.

"Just a horse" brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person. "Just a horse" diverts my thoughts away from myself and the often trivial worries of the day.

"Just a horse" is an embodiment of many of my hopes and dreams for the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of living in the moment.

"Just a horse" is the thing that keeps me from being "just a person."

So the next time someone says to you it's "just a horse" smile because"they" just don't understand.

'A Horse's Prayer' by an Unknown Author

Misty Blue and his mum Dear Lord,

Please watch over our humans, they are so weak. They have no claws or teeth, they can't run fast or fly away, neither can they burrow or build a nest in which to be safe. They smell bad, do strange things that aren't altogether intelligent, have no real ability to communicate with us, although we are able to figure out what they want.

Lord, grant us the ability to watch over our humans, care for them, cheer them when they are down, make them laugh, smile, and shower them with our love. We pray that we can bring a little joy into their otherwise mundane existence and preserve the emotional and perhaps even psychic link that we used to all share millions of years ago, but that they have sadly forgotten.

Lord...please let them know that when we insist on getting attention, it's so we can check their emotional well being and boost their morale. When we pester them for different foods, toys, etc, its so they will learn to see us in ways they hadn't considered, bringing them closer and back into the fold of Nature which they are part of, but keep forgetting about. They expect us to know what they want even though sometimes they don't know what we want. Some of them really try and we know they love us but some of them are so dumb, yet our love for them remains intensely unfaltering.

Misty Blue, Sparkie and their mum Lord, when we die, please make sure to send us ahead to where ever our humans are going to be, so we can pave the way for them, vouch for them and be there for them when they too die. Their souls are weighed by the good they've done in life, our souls are weighed by the good we've caused them to do.... please allow us to continue proving that humans are worth the effort.   You placed these humans in dominion over us, but you charged us with the task of caring for them and showing them your love every day, through us.

God bless these mere mortal humans, they know not that we are their guardian angels sent in love to task them so that they may grow to be part of your plan.


'Rainbow Bridge' by an Unknown Author

My beloved 'little one'There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth. It is called the "Rainbow Bridge" because of its many glorious colours.

Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge there is a land of meadows, hills and valleys with lush green grass.

When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this place. There is always good food and water, and warm spring weather. The old and frail animals are young and vigorous again. Those who are hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.

There is only one thing missing, the special person who had to be left behind. They are not with their special person who loved them on Earth.

So, each day they run and play until the day comes when one suddenly stops playing and looks into the distance. His/her bright eyes are intent; his/her eager body starts to quiver. And this one suddenly, joyously, runs from the group.

You have been seen, and when you and your special friend meet, you cling together in joyous reunion. You take him/her in your arms and embrace. Kisses rain upon your face, your hands again caress the beloved head, and you once more look into the trusting eyes of your pet, gone from your life, but never from your heart.

Then you cross the "Rainbow Bridge" together, never again to be separated.


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