This page is dedicated to all of our canine and human friends who have gone before us. 

Rainbow Bridge

There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth.  It is called the Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors.  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 food and water and warm spring weather.  The old and frail animals are young again.  Those who are maimed are made whole again.  They play all day with each other.

There is only one thing missing.  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 up.  The nose twitches!  The ears are up!  The eyes are staring!  And this one suddenly runs from the group.

YOU have been spotted, and when you and your special friend meet, you cling together in joyous reunion.  The happy kisses rain upon your face.  Your hands again caress the beloved head as you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life, but never absent from your heart.

Then, together, you and your special pet cross the Rainbow Bridge, never again to be separated.

Author Unknown

 

Epitaph To a Dog
       Near this spot
Are deposited the Remains
               Of one
Who possessed Beauty
        Without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
  Courage without Ferocity,
And all the Virtues of Man
        Without his Vices.

The Price, which would be unmeaning flattery
          If inscribed over Human Ashes,
Is but a just tribute to the Memory of
          “Boatswain,” a Dog
Who was born at Newfoundland,
          May, 1803,
And died in Newstead Abbey,
          Nov. 18, 1808.
 
When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown by glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And stories urns record that rests below.
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been.
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master’s own,
Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonored falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth –
While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.

Oh man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power –
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit!
By nature vile, ennoble but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye, who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on – it honors none you wish to mourn.
To mark a friend’s remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one – and here he lies.

Lord Byron’s tribute to “Boatswain,” on a monument in the garden of Newstead Abbey.