Pet Memorial Gift Boxes and Pet Loss Items

Poems & Inspirational Writings

• Just My Dog
• Big Teddy Cried
• The Fourth Day
• The Gift
• The Last Battle
• Tribute to a Best Friend
• Rainbow Bridge
• Grow Old With Dogs
• Miscellaneous Writings
• Where To Bury A Dog
• Old Drum
• The Beauty of Death
• After a While

This is a dedication to our Smoker Dog who passed away on September 7th, 2008. He was my protector, always so strong & constantly guarding me. I know his energy & love will always encompass me & keep me safe!

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Big Teddy Cried

by Kathleene S. Baker

I’m a well-worn, retired teddy bear
Now resting in a drawer.
The girl who always loved me most
Isn’t with me anymore.

She’s gone away to Rainbow Bridge
After so, so many years.
But often times in my dreams
Sweet Josey still appears.

One day while in the toy box, I heard,
“A new pup’s on the way!”
Out I climbed, so much to do,
I must look my best today.

I rubbed my eyes, fluffed my hair,
And struck my finest pose.
I prayed she’d take a shine to me;
I crossed my fingers and my toes.

When that tiny pup arrived
I was waiting on the floor.
I could replace her littermates
And even do much, much more.

At night we snuggled very close;
I kept her safe and warm.
She slept so peacefully next to me,
Even when it stormed.

Josey played naughty with many toys,
But I was set aside.
For I was something special,
Which filled me with much pride.

I didn’t have a fancy name,
But “Big Teddy” seemed okay.
The only thing I cared about
Was Josey’s loving gaze.

Every day she carried me
And paraded through the house.
She held me oh so gently,
With my right leg in her mouth.

After meals, when quite content
Away we two would prance.
And our routine had a name,
“The Happy Tummy Dance!”

I wasn’t chewed, torn, or
Ripped apart…to Josey I was real.
And I was not a toy at all;
I had a heart and I could feel.

After all our years together
The only wear that really showed.
Was from all the gentle love bites
Sweet Josey had bestowed.

I do come out from time to time
For hugs and an embrace.
Josey’s mom still misses her;
I can see it in her face.

While she hugs me tightly,
She takes one great big smell.
She yearns for a scent of Josey,
I know it - I can tell.

Above the drawer where I now rest
A lovely box sits on display.
Inside are Josey’s ashes;
See…she’s not too far away.

We were always best of friends
And always side-by-side.
And the day I lost my Josey,
A “Big Teddy” really cried…

Kathleene S. Baker
©2009 rev.

Lnstrlady@aol.com
Please visit my website:
YELLOW ROSE
www.txyellowrose.com

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The Fourth Day

by Martin Scot Kosins

If you ever love an animal, there are three days in your life you will always remember.

The first is a day, blessed with happiness, when you bring home your young new friend.

You may have spent weeks deciding on a breed. You may have asked numerous opinions of many vets, or done long research in finding a breeder. Or, perhaps in a fleeting moment, you may have just chosen that silly looking mutt in a shelter ... simply because something in its eyes reached your heart.

But when you bring that chosen pet home, and watch it explore, and claim its special place in your hall or frontroom - and when you feel it brush against you for the first time - it instills a feeling of pure love you will carry with you through the many years to come.

The second day will occur eight or nine or ten years later.

It will be a day like any other. Routine and unexceptional. But, for a surprising instant, you will look at your longtime friend and see age where you once saw youth.

You will see slow deliberate steps where you once saw energy.

And you will see sleep where you once saw activity.

So you will begin to adjust your friend's diet - and you may add a pill or two to her food.

And you may feel a growing fear deep within yourself, which bodes of a coming emptiness.

And you will feel this uneasy feeling, on and off, until the third day finally arrives.

And on this day - if your friend and God have not decided for you, then you will be faced with making a decision of your own - on behalf of your lifelong friend, and with the guidance of your own deepest Spirit.

But whichever way your friend eventually leaves you - you will feel as alone as a single star in the dark night sky.

If you are wise, you will let the tears flow as freely and as often as they must. And if you are typical, you will find that not many in your circle of family or human friends will be able to understand your grief, or comfort you.

But if you are true to the love of the pet you cherished through the many joyfilled years, you may find that a soul - a bit smaller in size than your own - seems to walk with you, at times, during the lonely days to come.

And at moments when you least expect anything out of the ordinary to happen, you may feel something brush against your leg - very very lightly.

And looking down at the place where your dear, perhaps dearest, friend used to lay - you will remember those three significant days.

The memory will most likely be painful, and leave an ache in your heart -

As time passes the ache will come and go as if it has a life of its own.

You will both reject it and embrace it, and it may confuse you.

If you reject it, it will depress you.

If you embrace it, it will deepen you.

Either way, it will still be an ache.

But there will be, I assure you, a fourth day when - along with the memory of your pet - and piercing through the heaviness in your heart -there will come a realization that belongs only to you.

It will be as unique and strong as our relationship with each animal we have loved, and lost.

This realization takes the form of a Living Love -

Like the heavenly scent of a rose that remains after the petals have wilted, this Love will remain and grow - and be there for us to remember.

It is a Love we have earned.

It is the legacy our pets leave us when they go -

And it is a gift we may keep with us as long as we live.

It is a Love which is ours alone -

And until we ourselves leave, perhaps to join our Beloved Pets -

It is a Love that we will always possess.

Martin Scot Kosins is the author of Maya's First Rose, published by Open Sky Books.

"Maya's First Rose" is available on our website in the pet loss book section.

"The Fourth Day" originally appeared as the Foreword for Pet Loss by Nieburg and Fischer, published by HarperPerennial.

Published here with permission of Martin Scot Kosins.

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The Gift

I’ll lend you for a little while my grandest dog, he said.

For you to love while he’s alive

And mourn for when he’s dead.

It may be one or many years,

Or days, or months, you see.

But will you, till I take him back

Take care of him for me?

He’ll bring his charm to gladden you,

And should his stay be brief

You will have treasured memories

As solace for your grief.

I cannot promise he will stay,

Since all from earth return.

But there are lessons taught on earth

I want this dog to learn.

I’ve looked the wide world over

In my search for teachers true.

And from the throngs that crowd life’s lanes

With trust, I have selected you.

Now will you give him your total love?

Nor think the labor vain,

Nor hate when I come

To take him back again?

I know you’ll give him tenderness

And love will bloom each day.

And for the happiness you’ve known

Forever grateful stay.

But should I come and call for him

Sooner than you’ve planned

You’ll brave the bitter grief that comes

And someday you’ll understand.

~Author Unknown

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The Last Battle

If it should be that I grow frail and weak,

And pain should keep me from my sleep,

Then will you do what must be done,

For this, the last battle, can't be won.

You will be sad I understand,

But don't let grief then stay your hand,

For on this day, more than the rest,

Your love and friendship must stand the test.

We have had so many happy years,

You wouldn't want me to suffer so.

When the time comes, please, let me go.

Take me to where to my needs they'll tend,

Only, stay with me till the end

And hold me firm and speak to me,

Until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time you will agree,

It is a kindness you do to me.

Although my tail its last has waved,

From pain and suffering I have been saved.

Don't grieve that it must be you,

Who has to decide this thing to do;

We've been so close,we two, these years,

Don't let your heart hold any tears.

- Author Unknown

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Tribute to a Best Friend

Sunlight streams through the window pane onto a spot on the floor.....

then I remember,

it's where you used to lie, but now you are no more.

Our feet walk down a hall of carpet, and muted echoes sound.....

then I remember,

it's where your paws would joyously abound.

A voice is heard along the road, and up beyond the hill,

then I remember,

it can't be yours..... your golden voice is still.

But I'll take that vacant spot of floor and empty muted hall,

and lay them with the absent voice and unused dish along the wall.

I'll wrap these treasured memories in a blanket of my love,

and keep them for my best friend until we meet above.

- Author Unknown

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Rainbow Bridge

View the Rainbow Bridge movie!

There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth. It is called Rainbow Bridge because of its many splendid colors. Just this side of Rainbow Bridge there is a land of meadows, hills and valleys with lush, green grass.

When beloved pets die, they go 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 seen!

And when you and your special friend meet, you take him in your arms and embrace. Your face is kissed again and again and again, and you look once more into the eyes of your trusting pet. Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together...

... Never again to be separated.

- Anonymous

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Grow Old With Dogs

When I am old...
I will wear soft grey sweatshirts,
and a bandana over my silver hair,
and I will spend my social security cheques on wine and my dogs.

I will sit in my house on my well-worn chair
and listen to my dogs' breathing.
I will sneak out in the middle of a warm summer night
and take my dogs for a run, if my old bones will allow...

When people come to call, I will smile
and nod as I show them my dogs,
and talk of them and about them...
...the ones so beloved of the past
and the ones so beloved of today.

I will still work hard cleaning after them,
mopping and feeding them and
whispering their names in a soft loving way.

I will wear the gleaming sweat on my throat,
like a jewel,  and I will be an embarrassment to all,
especially my family...
who have not yet found the peace in being free
to have dogs as your best friends.

These friends who always wait, at any hour, for your footfall,
and eagerly jump to their feet out of a sound  sleep,
to greet you as if you are a god,
With warm eyes full of adoring love and hope
that you will always stay.

I'll hug their big strong necks,
I'll kiss their dear sweet heads,
and whisper in their very special company.

I look in the mirror...and see I am getting old.
this is the kind of person I am, and have always been.
Loving dogs is easy, they are part of me.

Please accept me for who I am.
My dogs appreciate my presence in their lives,
they love my presence in their lives.
When I am old this will be important to me.
You will understand when you are old....
if you have dogs to love too.

- Anonymous

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"It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them.  And every new dog who comes into my life, gifts me with a piece of their heart.  If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are."

---Unknown

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We can't know why the lily has so brief a time to bloom
in the warmth of sunlight's kiss upon its face.
Before it folds its fragrance in
and bids the world good-night to rest its beauty in a gentler place.

But we can know that nothing that is ever loved is ever really lost,
and no one who has ever really touched a heart can really pass away
because some beauty lingers on in each memory of which they've
been a part.

Author: Ellen Brenneman

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Where To Bury A Dog

by Ben Hur Lampman

There are various places within which a dog may be buried. We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub of the garden, is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavorous bone, or lifted head to challenge some strange intruder. These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else.

For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, and nothing lost -- if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.

If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, he will come to you when you call -- come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they should not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he is yours and he belongs there.

People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing.

The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master.

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Old Drum

George G. Vest took the case tried on September 23, 1870 in which he represented a client whose hunting dog, a foxhound named Drum (or Old Drum),who had been killed by a sheep farmer. The farmer had previously announced his intentions to kill any dog found on his property; the dog's owner was suing for damages in the amount of $150, the maximum allowed by law.

During the trial, Vest stated that he would "win the case or apologize to every dog in Missouri." Vest's closing argument to the jury made no reference to any of the testimony offered during the trial, and instead offered a eulogy of sorts. Vest's "Eulogy on the Dog" is one of the most enduring passages of purple prose in American courtroom history (only a partial transcript has survived):

"Gentlemen of the jury: The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it the most. A man’s reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolutely unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him and the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog.

Gentleman of the jury: A man’s dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master’s side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.

If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death."

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The Beauty of Death

By: Kahlil Gibran

Part One - The Calling

Let me sleep, for my soul is intoxicated with love and
Let me rest, for my spirit has had its bounty of days and nights;
Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed, and
Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body;
Embalm my hair with frankincense and sprinkle my feet with perfume,
And read what the hand of Death has written on my forehead.

Let me rest in the arms of Slumber, for my open eyes are tired;
Let the silver-stringed lyre quiver and soothe my spirit;
Weave from the harp and lute a veil around my withering heart.

Sing of the past as you behold the dawn of hope in my eyes, for
It's magic meaning is a soft bed upon which my heart rests.

Dry your tears, my friends, and raise your heads as the flowers
Raise their crowns to greet the dawn.
Look at the bride of Death standing like a column of light
Between my bed and the infinite;
Hold your breath and listen with me to the beckoning rustle of
Her white wings.

Come close and bid me farewell; touch my eyes with smiling lips.
Let the children grasp my hands with soft and rosy fingers;
Let the ages place their veined hands upon my head and bless me;
Let the virgins come close and see the shadow of God in my eyes,
And hear the echo of His will racing with my breath.

Part Two - The Ascending

I have passed a mountain peak and my soul is soaring in the
Firmament of complete and unbound freedom;
I am far, far away, my companions, and the clouds are
Hiding the hills from my eyes.
The valleys are becoming flooded with an ocean of silence, and the
Hands of oblivion are engulfing the roads and the houses;
The prairies and fields are disappearing behind a white specter
That looks like the spring cloud, yellow as the candlelight
And red as the twilight.

The songs of the waves and the hymns of the streams
Are scattered, and the voices of the throngs reduced to silence;
And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity
In exact harmony with the spirit's desires.
I am cloaked in full whiteness;
I am in comfort; I am in peace.

Part Three - The Remains

Unwrap me from this white linen shroud and clothe me
With leaves of jasmine and lilies;
Take my body from the ivory casket and let it rest
Upon pillows of orange blossoms.
Lament me not, but sing songs of youth and joy;
Shed not tears upon me, but sing of harvest and the winepress;
Utter no sigh of agony, but draw upon my face with your
Finger the symbol of Love and Joy.
Disturb not the air's tranquility with chanting and requiems,
But let your hearts sing with me the song of Eternal Life;
Mourn me not with apparel of black,
But dress in color and rejoice with me;
Talk not of my departure with sighs in your hearts; close
Your eyes and you will see me with you forevermore.

Place me upon clusters of leaves and
Carry my upon your friendly shoulders and
Walk slowly to the deserted forest.
Take me not to the crowded burying ground lest my slumber
Be disrupted by the rattling of bones and skulls.
Carry me to the cypress woods and dig my grave where violets
And poppies grow not in the other's shadow;
Let my grave be deep so that the flood will not
Carry my bones to the open valley;
Let my grace be wide, so that the twilight shadows
Will come and sit by me.

Take from me all earthly raiment and place me deep in my
Mother Earth; and place me with care upon my mother's breast.
Cover me with soft earth, and let each handful be mixed
With seeds of jasmine, lilies and myrtle; and when they
Grow above me, and thrive on my body's element they will
Breathe the fragrance of my heart into space;
And reveal even to the sun the secret of my peace;
And sail with the breeze and comfort the wayfarer.

Leave me then, friends - leave me and depart on mute feet,
As the silence walks in the deserted valley;
Leave me to God and disperse yourselves slowly, as the almond
And apple blossoms disperse under the vibration of Nisan's breeze.
Go back to the joy of your dwellings and you will find there
That which Death cannot remove from you and me.
Leave with place, for what you see here is far away in meaning
From the earthly world. Leave me.

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After a While

A poem by Veronica A. Shoffstall

After a while, you learn the subtle difference

Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning

And company doesn't mean security,

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts

And presents aren't promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head up and your eyes open,

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,

And learn to build all your roads on today

Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,

And futures have a way of falling down in mid flight.

And after a while, you learn

That even sunshine burns if you get too much.


So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure.

That you really are strong

And you really do have worth

And you learn and learn…

With every goodbye, you learn.

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