I am the luckiest man in the universe and this week I walked three new dogs and one lovable repeater. Pictured below are Elmers, Manifest, Fury (all new to me) and The Supreme (a personal BFFF).
Today’s puppyru: 3 + 1 = JOY
how lucky am i
to meet and breathe air with you
truly JOY divine
All pictures taken by Stray Rescue of STL
Many thanks to Jim Van Vurst for his homage to Emily Dickinson below. And check out the Franciscan Spirit Blog also referenced.
I don’t read a lot of poetry, but I do have a favorite author and one who is deeply appreciated by many: Emily Dickinson. She lived in Amherst, Massachusetts, in the latter part of the 19th century. She was shy and lived a very reclusive life. During her 55 years, she wrote over 1,500 poems which were filled with simple wisdom. Two examples of such wisdom: “Old age comes on suddenly, not gradually as it thought” and “Saying nothing sometimes says the most.”
Only a few dozen of her poems were published in her lifetime. When she died, her family found hundreds more hidden all over her room and throughout the house. I have found two of her poems supremely thoughtful. In fact, I frequently quote them in my funeral homilies. The first one I use is “I Never Saw a Moor.”
“I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks and what a wave must be.
I never spoke with God nor visited in heaven,
Yet, certain am I of the spot, as if the chart were given.”
I catch people smiling when they hear Dickinson’s words because they touch on a truth that is in every believer’s heart. Isn’t it true that we’ve never seen heaven or had an audible conversations with God? Yet, as a people of faith, are we not certain of that heavenly “spot” as if we had a very map in front of us?
If you argued with a nonbeliever who begged you to prove there was an eternal destiny, you might find yourself fumbling for Scripture passages to prove heaven to him. But I suspect after all the Scripture passages we might quote, what would likely make the nonbeliever think more deeply would be a line from one of Dickinson’s poems: “I’m certain of that spot; it’s like I have a map right in front of me.”
There is another poem she wrote that startles with its simple truth.
“Because I could not stop for Death–
He kindly stopped for me–
The Carriage held but just Ourselves–
And Immortality.”
While most of us secretly hope for a peaceful death with loved ones surrounding us, for the majority, it is not we who “stop to die,” but death which stops for us. And within that carriage, in the seat across from us, sits immortality, with a lovely smile.
What I see in this poem is really a basic truth of faith. Once God gives life, it never ends. It can’t end because our lives are a sharing in the eternal life of God. The moment of death is just the last piece of mosaic that completes the story of our life’s journey. And every moment of that journey has been accompanied by a loving and providential God.
Dickinson said that she never went to church. She said that the birds were her choir and the sky her cathedral vault. But one thing is quite certain: She was a woman of deep faith.
Today’s pupryu: Waiting for You
rescued and ready
to love you if you want me –
I’m waiting for you
I love walking dogs; especially the beautiful animals at Stray Rescue of STL. Yet, I confess, there’s a sadness at times when you realize you’re walking some of the same animals, week after week, who would love to become someone’s best friend.
Sure, no dog is a perfect for everyone just like no human is a perfect fit for everyone. Maybe, just maybe, your perfect fit is at your local rescue shelter.
Here are three of the four dogs I walked yesterday.
The Supreme, nearly 5-yr-old 50lb+ female Terrier Mix who prefers to be an only dog.
Tic Tac, 7-yr-old, 50lb+ female Terrier – OK with kids and other mellow dogs; not cats.
L.O.T.I. (Luck of the Irish), 3-yr-old, 50lb+ female Terrier. Gorgeous dog with a pleasant personality.
A fourth dog, Skidmore, is a young Plott Hound/Shepherd mix. I will collect a picture next week if he’s still there. Fingers crossed he’s not because he’s been adopted.
Today’s pupryu: One Beauty, Three Buddies
thank you grass and tree
for your shaded comfort on
this hot Spring morning
I was fortunate to walk four dogs yesterday in downtown St. Louis: Tic Tac, Mr. Pants, Nectarine and Revolver. What a joy on this mid-80-degree (F) day.
Tic Tac – a gorgeous lady – 7yr. old 55lb. female Terrier
Mr. Pants – a Pit Bull on a Corgi body
Nectarine – a joyful tripod – 3yrs. old 42lbs. male Terrier
Revolver – an energetic playmate – 2yr. old 48lbs. male Terrier
———————————————————————————————————————
In the right home, each of these dogs would be a furever fur friend.
If you cannot adopt a dog, please adopt an animal rescue shelter.
What does unconditional love look like? Below are two of the four fur friends I walked yesterday in downtown St. Louis.
Aeshma – 2yr old female Terrier 51lbs.
Tic Tac – 7yr old female Terrier 55 lbs.
I also walked two males, Orville and Skidmore, but forgot to take pictures. Next time.
All four dogs are beautiful creatures and I feel so lucky to walk with them. My greatest wish is that they are adopted soon so that they can be with a loving human seven days a week.
Today’s pupryu: Fur Friends
greeted so warmly
trusted so quickly – I’m awed
by the love you give
Check with your local animal rescue facility for some unconditional love opportunities.
Walked four beautiful girls, one at a time, downtown St. Louis yesterday. All available for adoption through Stray Rescue of St. Louis. Hard to imagine that they haven’t been adopted already. I can certainly vouch for each one as prime candidates for best fur friends forever: BFFF!
Today’s petryu: Four Beauties
just one will fulfill
but four – how can we resist
available love
Layla
LOTI (Luck of the Irish)
Supreme
Elle Elephant
Erato, in Greek mythology, is the goddess of lyric poetry and her sister Calliope is the goddess of epic poetry and eloquence, both were one of the Muses. Apollo is the Roman god of the sun, healing, music, and poetry. Bragi, son of Odin, is the Norse god of poetry and music, revered for his wisdom, his eloquence, his ability to compose and recite. He was also the god of ceremony.
So many gods and goddesses of poetry. So many words.
Today’s senryu: Erato, to you, too
one more chance to say
i love you, Erato, i
really, really do
Are you a logophile, too?
Here’s a repost from the goodnewsnetwork.org with many thanks to Ana Daksina @ https://troubadorofversepoetry.wordpress.com/
By Andy Corbley – Mar 1, 2023
Around the US and UK, dozens of animal hospitals have a catch-all when it comes to grieving pet parents who have lost a furry friend: they give them the poem Rainbow Bridge.
Yet this poem that has touched millions of peoples’ hearts has remained largely authorless for years until the sleuth work of an art historian and cat owner Paul Koudounaris, who managed to turn up the original poet decades after Rainbow Bridge became famous.
Her name is Edna Clyne-Rekhy, an 82-year-old Scottish artist and animal lover who traveled the world, and failed to notice her poem’s popularity.
The story begins with Koudounaris’ work researching pet cemeteries, and the constant references he found to Rainbow Bridge. Looking back over the use cases of what he determined to be the single most important text in animal mourning, Koudounaris pinned it to a 1994 appearance on the advice column Dear Abby, the most syndicated column in American history.
A reader told Abby Van Buren that she had received a copy of Rainbow Bridge from her local Humane Society chapter in Grand Rapids Michigan. From that debut to her 100 million readers, Rainbow Bridge began appearing on everything to do with the loss of a pet—Hallmark cards, veterinary clinics, etc.
Koudounaris worked out that of the 15 separate authorship filings at the United States Copyright Office, none of them was the legitimate poet. Eventually expanding the list to 25 names in connection to the poem, he determined one, Edna Clyne-Rekny, was the most promising.
This January, Clyne-Rekhy received a strange phone call asking if she were the author of Rainbow Bridge, to which she answered “How on Earth did you find me?”
In 1957, when she was 19 years old, Clyne-Rekhy was grieving the loss of Major, her Labrador retriever, who “died in my arms,” she told Nat Geo. Her mother told her to write down how she was feeling.
“It just came through my head, it was like I was talking to my dog—I was talking to Major,” she says. “I just felt all of this and I had to write it.”
When Koudounaris met her, he found she still had the original handwritten text of the poem. She explained that she had given out handmade copies without her name on them to several of her friends over the years who had lost pets, before moving to live in India, and Spain, all the while the poem’s popularity blossomed across the US and UK.
“Can you imagine?” she says. “Every vet in Britain has it!”
The original text goes like this:
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, your pet goes to 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, water, and sunshine, and friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who have been ill and old are restored to health and strength, those who were hurt are made better and strong again, like we remember them before they go to heaven. They are happy and content except for one small thing—they each miss someone very special to them who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are shining, his body shakes. Suddenly he begins to run from the herd, rushing over the grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cuddle in a happy hug never to be apart again. You and your pet are in tears. Your hands again cuddle his head and you look again into his trusting eyes, so long gone from life, but never absent from your heart, and then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together.
“An Animal Control Officer provides humane control of stray animals within the city limits and assists owners in locating missing pets.
Please get your pets spayed or neutered! Every year thousands of unwanted kittens and puppies (are) euthanized!
Farmington’s animal control officer, Cheryla Boyd, takes in over 600 stray animals per year. Every attempt is made to either notify the owner or to adopt the animals.” https://www.farmington-mo.gov/farmington-police-animal-control
Eighteen months ago, Officer Boyd took custody of an abandoned elderly male Chihuahua and placed him in one of the compartments holding stray rescue dogs in the Animal Control Shelter. Officer Boyd then placed public announcements in various publications, including Facebook posts, attempting to notify a possible human guardian. No guardian was located so the dog was available for adoption. Thankfully, I was the lucky one to make his acquaintance. Below is a poem that describes this more:
Some Things We May Never Know
Little white Chihuahua, not so young;
not looking your best, coat far from pure.
Animal Control said you were found
living outside, skirting danger.
With matted hair and covered in fleas;
were you abandoned; owner succumbed?
Scrounging for food -and clearly quite lost –
I wonder, where did you come from?
Public announcements brought no results;
two weeks later, “FREE for adoption.”
No resistance, we chose each other;
optimistic reclamation.
Vet estimated you’re ten years old,
“a very good model”, she confirms.
Fleas now gone and shots have been given;
future routine: monthly heartworm.
Now we go forward, the two of us;
me asking questions, you staying mum.
Coming from a past of much unknown;
no longer matters where you came from,
just one dog, one man walking in tandem.
I was a lucky man to be offered the chance to adopt a Chihuahua stray rescue. Here’s a brief poem that explains how it all began:
Some Things We May Never Know
Little white Chihuahua, not so young;
not looking your best, coat far from pure.
Animal Control said you were found
living outside, skirting danger.
With matted hair and covered in fleas;
were you abandoned; owner succumbed?
Scrounging for food -and clearly quite lost –
I wonder, where did you come from?
Public announcements brought no results;
two weeks later, “FREE for adoption.”
No resistance, we chose each other;
optimistic reclamation.
Vet estimated you’re ten years old,
“a very good model”, she confirms.
Fleas now gone and shots have been given;
future routine: monthly heartworm.
Now we go forward, the two of us;
me asking questions, you staying mum.
Coming from a past only half known;
no longer matters where you came from,
Just one man, one dog walking in tandem.
Life Matters 