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Discussion in 'Woof Memorial Critter's Corner' started by snerd, Feb 19, 2013.
............ at the cost of their own. This picture sucked the breath out of me. Sad.
That is so sad.
A dog is just a dog, until you look him in the eye, then he is Mr. Dog.
They are heroes too.
There is no being on the planet more loyal or loving than a dog. Heaven has a special place for them.
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that 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 our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been 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 in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals 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 intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
I can understand, and feel, that soldier's pain. As a SOG recon team leader in Vietnam, I also handled a dog on occasion. My dog, Conrad, and my team were caught up in an ambush in which I got shot and Conrad got wounded so badly his r/f leg had to be amputated. Also, my assistant team leader and best friend, lost his life that day. Thankfully, I knew enough "right people" that could pull enough strings that I was allowed to return home with Conrad and he was retired to my care. That three-legged dog, my partner and keeper of my safety, lived a good long life of 13 years. Sadly though, he was one of only a handful of war dogs to make it back after the war. I still have, and cherish, Conrad's leather collar. As the team leader, I will forever blame myself for not reading my dog's alert correctly and quick enough to save my team. It's hard to adequately explain the pain and sorrow that soldier in the picture is having to deal with. Yes, I have to believe that there's a special place in Heaven and that we handlers, if blessed, will one day be reacquainted with our four-legged partners.