Poems

We offer this page of poems, stories and quotes to help in your time of grief. If you have a poem that you would like to share with others, please email us.

In a beautiful blue lagoon on a clear day, a fine sailing ship spreads its brilliant white canvas in a fresh morning breeze and sails out to the open sea. We watch her glide away magnificently through the deep blue and gradually see her grow smaller and smaller as she nears the horizon. Finally, where the sea and sky meet, she slips silently from sight, and someone near me says, 'There, she is gone!'

Gone where? Gone from sight. That is all. She is still as large in mast and hull and sail, still just as able to bear her load. And we can be sure that, just as we say, 'There, she is gone' another says, 'There, she comes!'
      Henry Van Dyke

Eternal Guardian

At the closing of this day,
when daylight ceased and nighttime came
to cloak the pastures in soft dreaming tones,
my dear guardian left my side.
Gone to guard those that went before him,
leaving me behind.

To that gentle spirit who graced my life,
I give my whispered thanks and murmuring of love.

Guarding me no longer, but eternally guarding my soul
     MaryBeth Vaudrin

But Not Forgotten

I think no matter where you stray,
That I shall go with you a way.
Though you may wander sweeter lands,
You will not forget my hands,
Nor yet the way I held my head
Nor the tremulous things I said.
You will still see me, small and white
And smiling, in the secret night,
And feel my arms about you when
The day comes fluttering back again.
I think, no matter where you be,
You'll hold me in your memory
And keep my image there without me,
By telling later loves about me.
     Dorothy Parker

He is Gone

You can shed tears that he is gone,
Or you can smile because he lived,
You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
Or you can be full of the love that you shared,
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on,
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,
Or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
     David Harkins

A Place Called Heaven

An old man and his dog were walking along a country road, enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to the man that he had died. He remembered dying, and realized, too, that the dog had been dead for many years. He wondered where the road would lead them, and continued onward. After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall, white arch that gleamed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

He was pleased that he had finally arrived at heaven, and the man and his dog walked toward the gate. As he got closer, he saw someone sitting at a beautifully carved desk off to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, but is this Heaven?"

"Yes, it is, sir," the man answered.

"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The gatekeeper gestured to his rear, and the huge gate began to open.

"I assume my friend can come in..." the man said, gesturing toward his dog. But the reply was "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."

The man thought about it, then thanked the gatekeeper, turned back toward the road, and continued in the direction he had been going. After another long walk, he reached the top of another long hill, and he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate. There was no fence, and it looked as if the gate had never been closed, as grass had grown up around it.

As he approached the gate, he saw a man just inside, sitting in the shade of a tree in a rickety old chair, reading a book. "Excuse me!" he called to the reader. Do you have any water?"

"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there," the man said, pointing to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in and make yourself at home."

"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.

"He's welcome too, and there's a bowl by the pump," he said.

They walked through the gate and, sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a dipper hanging on it and a bowl next to it on the ground. The man filled the bowl for his dog, and then took a long drink himself. When both were satisfied, he and the dog walked back toward the man, who was sitting under the tree waiting for them, and asked, "What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.

"This is Heaven," was the answer.

"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "It certainly doesn't look like heaven, and there's another man down the road who said that place was Heaven."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates?

"Yes, it was beautiful."

"Nope. That's Hell."

"Doesn't it offend you for them to use the name of Heaven like that?"

"No. I can see how you might think so, but it actually saves us a lot of time. They screen out the people who are willing to leave their best friends behind."

Rainbow Bridge Return by Joy LaCaille

The little dog arrived at the Rainbow Bridge, and a pack of dogs rushed up to greet him. He braced himself, expecting a fight, but this was the first pack that wagged their tails and kissed him instead of attacking him.

It was beautiful here, and everyone was nice to him. None of them had been born in a puppy mill, like he had, and used for dog-bait fighting and left to die in a shelter because he was a mix-breed battle-scarred cur and wasn't cute. They explained why they were waiting... for their humans who loved them.

"What is love?" he asked, and God let him go back to earth, and find out. Warm, and dark, he squeezed in with the others and waited for the day to be born. Scared, he held back as long as he could, but finally got dragged out, by his hind feet. Hands without fur held him gently and rubbed him dry and opened his mouth and guided him to a warm nipple with milk. He didn't get a good hold on it, because one of his big fat brothers pushed him aside. The human hand moved the other puppy to another nipple and held his body, so he could drink.

"Ahhh, that's better," he thought, and drank until his jaws got tired and he curled up to sleep next to his warm hairy mother. "I remember this," he mused... "Too bad I'll have to grow up to be hit, left out in the cold and rain, and used for dog-bait fighting, and die as an unclaimed rescue dog. I remember what it's like, being a dog." he thought sadly.

That night, he crawled up to his mother and tried to nurse, but he kept getting pushed off to the side. When they were full, the big brothers and sisters got their bottoms cleaned and he finally latched on to a nipple, but the human hands weren't there to hold him up, and there wasn't any milk in any of the nipples, anyway. He was weak and so tiny. It was even hard to stay upright, and he fell over on his back and couldn't right himself.

So he began to cry, and suddenly the human hands were there, holding him up and putting a rubber thing in his mouth. It didn't taste or feel like mother, but it was warm and made the ache in his tummy go away.

He was having trouble breathing ... His lungs weren't fully developed, because he had waited too long to join the others in the womb, as he took one last romp at the Rainbow Bridge. He could feel the heartbeat of the human, who had laid him on her chest and covered him with a soft cloth, keeping him warm, and soothing his boney body with gentle circling touches.

He kept thinking of his new friends who had been so nice to him at the bridge and asked God if he could go back. God said "Yes, but not just yet. You wanted to experience Love."

So for several hours (seemed like days but it was dark and he couldn't tell what time it was), the human supplemented his feeding and let him experience the warmth of his mother's body and tongue, and the pile of warm soft littermates.

He got weaker, and the human held him more often, leaving the littermates to sleep in a pile while he got caressed, kissed, and got to listen to the heartbeat which was strong and loving.

Finally God came back and asked, "are you ready to come back to the Rainbow Bridge?" "Yes, he responded," with a little sorrow, because the human didn't want to let him go, and was crying.

He pushed the air out of his lungs and floated back to the Rainbow Bridge and looked back at the human, who was still crying and holding the limp body that he had borrowed for his trip.

"Thank you, God," he said. "Love is beautiful, and I will wait near the Bridge and let the human know, when she arrives, that I loved her, too."

Dear God

Dear God,

Please remember these few things when taking care of my boy.

He likes to walk back and forth in the pond, chasing the blue gills, watching close for you to reel in the "big one." He will then "hold" the stringer for you. Please take him fishing.

The lizards in the tree stumps won't be safe anymore, so you'd better hide the lizards. If you put dog bones in your robes, he will "wave" at you until you give him one. Give him two.

His day bed is the one closest to the fireplace. If there is a girl lying in it he will come and rest his head on your knee until you remove her. His bedtime is 8 pm; please help him up the stairs.

Don't leave freshly baked pies on the counter, no matter how crippled he becomes, he will always eat it. Blueberry is his favorite, with just a little cinnamon.

If there is a child in the water he will bring it out, especially if it is having a good time. If there is a small child walking with a cracker, he will keep the child from overeating. Please give him a child to follow.

Don't leave any ladders leaning against your house, he will be found on the roof. I hope there is a playground nearby with lots of kids, he will wait his turn at the slide, and bark when he gets to the bottom.

Be careful when you spell out words like "c-a-r r-i-d-e" and "e-a-t," even "b-u-n-n-y." He knows how to spell, you had better be ready to follow through.

When you take him on a trip, and stop to rest, just tell him to "be a good Boy," he will lift his leg whether he has to go or not. He can't "go" with a leash on, it makes him cough. In fact don't even show him a leash, he will choke. He also can't go for a walk without his Dummy in his mouth, He can't make it past the gate, he likes the orange one the best.

The top of his head will become pointed if you don't kiss it often during the day. Then his hats won't fit. He can't sleep unless he is on the right side of the bed.

When you give him a marrow bone, make sure his mom is there too, he likes to use her back as a table and get her all slimy.

If you tell him to "stay," make sure you come back to release him, he will stay there for days.

During the football games, if you get a chip, he gets a chip. He doesn't like the nuts with the shell on them, peel them please.

If you go to the lake then stop for ice cream on the way home, he always gets the first lick and then the bottom of the cone too, please.

Don't use a Buoy to tie off your boat, he will spend all afternoon trying to drag it to shore. If you take him camping, he has to sleep between you and Mrs. God, on the softest part of the foam pad.

Don't get mad at him when you come home and his head is in the dog food bin, He has to stretch his stomach muscles every now and then.

That's all for now God. Tell him we love him, miss him and hope he likes the food up there.

What Love Is

"She keeps repeating it over and over again. We've been back to this shelter at least five times. It has been weeks now since we started all of this," the woman told the volunteer. "What is it she keeps asking for?" she asked. "Puppy size!"

"We have plenty of puppies, if that's what she's looking for." "I know. We have seen most of them," she said in frustration.

Just then the young child came walking in the office. "Well, did you find one?" "No, not this time," she said with sadness in her voice. "Can we come back on the weekend?"

The two women looked at each other, shook their heads and laughed. "You never know when we will get more dogs. Unfortunately, there's always a supply," the volunteer said.

The young child took her Mother by the hand and headed to the door. "Don't worry, I bet we'll find one this weekend," the child said.

Over the next few days both Mom and Dad had long conversations with her. They both felt she was being too particular. "It's this weekend or we're not looking any more," Dad finally said in frustration.

"We don't want to hear anything more about "puppy size" either," Mom added.

Sure enough they were the first ones in the shelter on Saturday morning. By now the young child knew her way around, so she ran right for the section that housed the smaller dogs.

Tired of the routine, Mom sat in the small waiting room at the end of the first row of cages. There was an observation window so you could see the animals during times when visitors weren't permitted. The young girl walked slowly from cage to cage, kneeling periodically to take a closer look. One by one the dogs were brought out and she held each one. One by one she said, "Sorry, you're not the one."

It was the last cage on this last day in search of the perfect pup. The volunteer opened the cage door and the child carefully picked up the dog and held it closely. This time she it took a little longer.

"Mom, that's it! I found the right puppy! He's the one! I know it!" she screamed with joy.

Mom, startled by all the commotion, came running. "What? Are you sure? How do you know?" she asked.

"It's the puppy sighs!"

"Yes, it the same size as all the other puppies you held the last few weeks," Mom said. "No, not "size" ... "sighs." When I held him in my arms he sighed," she said.

"So?"

"Don't you remember? When I asked you one day what love is, you told me "Love depends on the sighs of your heart. The more you love, the bigger the sighs!"

The two women looked at each other for a moment. Mom didn't know whether to laugh or cry. As she stooped down to hug her child she did a little of both.

"Mom every time you hold me I sigh. When you and Daddy come home from work and hug each other you both sigh. I knew I would find the right puppy if it sighed when I held it in my arms," she said.

Then holding the puppy up close to her face she said, "Mom, he loves me. I heard the sighs of his heart."

Close your eyes for a moment and think about the love that makes you sigh.

Dear Family

Dear Family,
I just wanted to let you know that I made it home.
The journey wasn't an easy one, but it didn't take too long.
Everything is so pretty here, so white, so fresh and new.
I wish that you could close your eyes and that you could see it too.
Please try not to be sad for me. Try to understand.
God is taking care of me... I'm in the shelter of His hands
Here there is no sadness, no sorrow, and no pain.
Here there is no crying and I'll never hurt again.
Here it is so peaceful when all the angels sing.
I really have to go for now... I've just got to try my wings.

All The Good Dogs by George & Helen Papashvily

What purpose did they serve, all the Good Dogs that once ran through the world and now wait in shadowy quiet of the past?

They lightened our burdens and drove away our enemies and stayed when others left us. They gave aid and comfort, protection and security. They held a mirror wherein we might see ourselves as we long to be. They gave us a glimpse of the world beyond the narrow confines of our own species.

Although we make dull students, slowly they help us learn how to command and to protect with wisdom and imagination.

They taught and still teach us the joy of giving generosity and kindness and love without thought of gainful return.

And now...all the fleet hounds, the staunch Mastiff, the loyal Shepherds, the dancing Toys, the fumbling puppies, pets on silk pillows, workers plodding at their tasks, the special ones you loved the best, those of ours we still miss...

All the Good Dogs...Goodbye, until on some brighter day, in some fairer place, you run out to greet us.

It's me

I stood by your bed last night. I came to have a peep. I could see that you were crying. You found it hard to sleep.

I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear, "It's me, I haven't left you, I'm well, I'm fine, I'm here."

I was close to you at breakfast. I watched you pour the tea. You were thinking of the many times, your hands reached down to me.

I was with you at the shops today. Your arms were getting sore. I longed to take your parcels. I wish I could do more.

I was with you at my grave today. You tend it with such care. I want to reassure you, that I'm not lying there.

I walked with you towards the house, as you fumbled for your key. I gently put my paw on you, I smiled and said "it's me."

You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair. I tried so hard to let you know, that I was standing there.

It's possible for me, to be so near you everyday. To say to you with certainty, "I never went away."

You sat there very quietly, then smiled, I think you knew ... in the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.

The day is over... I smile and watch you yawning and say "goodnight, God bless, I'll see you in the morning."

And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide, I'll rush across to greet you and we'll stand, side by side.

I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see. Be patient, live your journey out ... then come home to be with me.

From Irving Townsend's "The Once Again Prince"

We who choose to surround ourselves with lives more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality.

God Saw You

God saw you getting tired, when a cure was not to be.
So He wrapped his arms around you, and whispered, "Come to me".
You didn't deserve what you went through, so He gave you rest.
God's garden must be beautiful, He only takes the best
And when I saw you sleeping, so peaceful and free from pain
I could not wish you back, to suffer that again.

A Different Day at Rainbow Bridge

Unlike most of the sun filled days at the Rainbow Bridge, this particular day dawned cold and gray, damp as a swamp and as dismal as any day could be imagined. All of the recent arrivals had no idea what to think, as they had never ever experienced a day like this before. But, the animals who had been waiting for their beloved people, knew exactly what was going on and started to gather at the pathway leading to The Bridge to watch.

It wasn't long before an elderly animal came into view, his head hung low, so very low, and his tail dragging. The other animals, the ones who had been there for a while, knew what his story was right away, for they had seen this happen far, far, too often. He approached slowly, very slowly, and was obviously in great emotional pain, but with no sign of injury or illness.

Unlike all of the other animals waiting at The Bridge, this animal had not been restored to youth and made healthy and vigorous again. As he walked toward The Bridge, he watched all of the other animals watching him. He knew he was out of place here and the sooner he could cross over, the happier he would be. But, alas, it was not to be. As he approached The Bridge, his way was barred by the appearance of an Angel who sadly apologized to him, and then told him that he would not be able to pass. Only those animals who were with their people could pass over to the Rainbow Bridge.

With no place else to turn to, the elderly animal turned towards the fields before The Bridge and saw a group of other animals like himself, also elderly and infirm. They weren't playing, but rather simply lying on the green grass, forlornly staring out at the pathway leading to The Bridge. And so, he took his place among them, watching the pathway and waited.

One of the newest arrivals at The Bridge didn't understand what he had just witnessed and asked one of the animals that had been there for a while to explain it to him.

"You see, that poor animal over there, with the others, they are rescues. He was turned in to rescue just as you see him now, an older animal with his fur graying and his eyes clouding. Sadly, he never made it out of rescue and passed on with only the love of his rescuer to comfort him as he left his earthly existence. Because he had no family to give his love to, he has no one to escort him across The Bridge."

The first animal thought about this for a minute and then asked, "So what will happen now?" As he was about to receive his answer, suddenly, the clouds parted swiftly, and the gloom lifted with a mighty wind. Approaching The Bridge could be seen a single person and among the older animals, a whole group was suddenly bathed in a golden light and they were all once again, young and healthy, just as they were in the prime of their life.

"Watch, and see," said the second animal. A second group of animals from those also waiting came to the pathway and bowed their heads ever so low as the person neared closer. As each bowed head, the person offered a pat on their head or a scratch behind the ears.

One by one, the newly restored animals fell into line and followed him towards The Bridge. And then, one by one, they all crossed The Bridge together.

"What just happened?" asked the first animal. "That was a rescuer. The animals you saw bowing to the rescuer in respect were those who found new homes because of all their work. They will all cross over to The Bridge, when their new families arrive. Those you saw restored were those who never found homes. When a rescuer arrives, they are allowed to perform one, final act of rescue. They are allowed to escort all those poor animals that they couldn't place on earth across The Rainbow Bridge."

"I think I like rescuers," said the first animal. "So does God," was the reply from the second animal, "so does God."

My Friend Ugly

Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.

To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been there was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot had appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail had long ago been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!!"

All the children were warned not to touch him. The adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come into their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet your in forgiveness.

Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If ever you picked him up, he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, or whatever he could find.

One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor's huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was lying, it was apparent that Ugly's sad life was almost at an end. Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. "I must be hurting him terribly," I thought.

Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear - Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring.

Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battle-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion. At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.

Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk-show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my love totally to those I cared for.

Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked and beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be Ugly.

Shake it Off and Step Up

A parable is told of a farmer who owned an old mule. The mule fell into the farmer's well. The farmer heard the mule braying, and after carefully assessing the situation, the farmer sympathized with the mule but decided that neither the mule nor the well was worth the trouble of saving. So, he called his neighbors together and told them what had happened ... and enlisted them to help haul dirt to bury the old mule in the well and put him out of his misery.

Initially, the old mule was hysterical, but as the farmer and his neighbors continued shoveling and the dirt hit his back a thought struck him. It suddenly dawned on him that every time a shovel load of dirt landed on his back he should shake it off and step up. This he did, shovel after shovel, blow after blow. "Shake it off and step up, shake it off and step up," he repeated to encourage himself. No matter how painful the blows or distressing the situation seemed, the old mule fought panic and just kept right on shaking it off and stepping up. Your're right, it wasn't long before the old mule, battered and exhausted, stepped triumphantly over the wall of that well!

What seemed like it would bury him actually blessed him; all because of the manner in which he handled his adversity. That's life. If we have our problems and respond to them positively, and refuse to give in to panic, bitterness or self-pity, the adversities that come along to bury us usually have within them the potential to benefit and bless us.

Irish Dog Show

"Yesterday, I experienced a very unusual thing indeed. It might restore someone's faith in humanity! I know it did mine.

As with all forms of competition, there comes a certain amount of ambition, goal grabbing, disappointment, anger and even revenge in extreme cases. Some of it, is just the nature of competition, the majority of it is just malice. Dog showing is no exemption.

Unfortunately, all too often I have stood at ringside and heard malicious comments, bitching and bickering. Dog show people can be very cruel to each other sometimes. I have on occasion been the brunt of these comments, but that's another story.

Well, yesterday I had a breath of fresh air, as it were. I was stewarding at the Rough Collie Club of Ireland's Championship show. It's a relatively popular breed here in Ireland. Always a big entry. They had a wonderful judge from the U.K. This lady has been in the breed since 1949. So, it goes without saying, I was pretty privileged to steward for her.

Anyway, just before the Novice class, one of the club official's came into the ring and, I overheard her tell the judge about the one entry in the class. I thought it was unusual that there was only one entry in the class, but later found out the reason why!

I called the class, and, in walked an old man and his Rough Collie. I've only ever seen this man at our St. Patrick's Day show. He's an old man, rough around the edges and, well, his dog, is really unkempt by show standards. He marched proudly into the ring with the dog on a great big thick rope lead!

While the judge was going over the dog, I was filled in on his story. I was told that he lives in an old folks home in Galway. (The other side of Ireland.) He has no family left living and no visitors at the old folks home. He's been showing this dog for eight years only ever on St. Patrick's Day or the Club show. He'd traveled 150 miles on a bus yesterday morning. Which takes about 5 hours in Ireland. The nurses in his home, usually phone the club to tell of his departure, and the club usually phone back when they spot this old man at the show. He has only ever shown the dog in Novice, and people over the years never compete against him.

The nurses told the club officials that when he wins a rosette at a show he wears it for weeks at home in the old folks home. The dog lives with him at the home and, is quite a celebrity "Show dog" with all the residents. The pride and joy of this man's life. He spends half the year, telling people about the last dog show and the other half of the year, looking forward to the next one!

Anyway, the judge was so considerate to this man. And, boy was he proud to show his dog off. When the judge asked could she look at the dog's teeth, "Oh yes," the man replied and instructed the dog to "Smile." With that the dog showed off a perfect set of choppers! The judge replied "Aren't you a clever dog?" With that the man said "Oh, he is very clever, he'll shake your hand too if you like!" I couldn't help smiling when I heard this, and full credit to the judge, she shook hands with the dog.

The dog won first in the class and every exhibitor at the show, gave this old man and his dog a standing ovation. He was cheered and clapped as he did his own lap around the ring. People came over to the ringside to congratulate and pat the man on the back as he left the ring. Talk about Elvis leaving the building, this man was certainly the king when he won his class. He was just so proud of his accomplishment. He lapped up every minute of it.

It was the first time I'm sad to say that I've seen people being genuinely nice at a dog show. They really made this old man's day. Possibly his year! Heaven help the residents at the old folks home when he returned home last night. Not only did he win a rosette but also won a great big trophy. I'm sure it will take pride of place on the mantle piece.

Isn't this what dog showing SHOULD be about?? Giving people like this old man a day out to enjoy the only family he has. His best pal, his dog. A memory for an old man to hold on to, to brighten his day, something to share with his friends at the old folk's home? Something to be proud of, however small the achievement?

Anyway, that's the story, just a thought, an observation and possibly an inspiration to us all? I know it's one of the happiest memories I have of a dog show.

SHMILY

My grandparents were married for over half a century, and played their own special game from the time they had met each other.

The goal of their game was to write the word "shmily" in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns leaving "shmily" around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was their turn to hide it once more. They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal.

They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring.

"Shmily" was written in the steam left on the mirror after a hot shower, where it would reappear bath after bath. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave "shmily" on the very last sheet. There was no end to the places "shmily" would pop up.

Little notes with "shmily" scribbled hurriedly were found on dashboards And car seats, or taped to steering wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. "Shmily" was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents' house as the furniture.

It took me a long time before I was able to fully appreciate my grandparents' game. Skepticism has kept me from believing in true love -- one that is pure and enduring. However, I never doubted my grandparents' relationship. They had love down pat. It was more than their flirtatious little games; it was a way of life. Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection which not everyone is lucky enough to experience. Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could.

They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other's sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome and old he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew "how to pick 'em." Before every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings: a wonderful family, good fortune, and each other.

But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' life: my grandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier.

As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside. Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a cane and my grandfather's steady hand, they went to church every morning.

But my grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not leave the house anymore. For a while, Grandpa would go to church alone, praying to God to watch over his wife. Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone.

"Shmily." It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother's funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members came forward and gathered around Grandma one last time. Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother's casket and, taking a shaky breath, he began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came, a deep and throaty lullaby.

Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. For I knew that, although I couldn't begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.

S-h-m-i-l-y:
See How Much I Love You.