Skip to comments.Just ReleasedóCanine Courage: The Heroism of Dogs,
Posted on 03/08/2003 2:13:54 PM PST by groanup
Okay. Let's here it for dogs. Post your favorite story, picture, adage, movie, etc.
- Ambrose Bierce
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. This praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery, if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just Trubute the the Memory of BOTSWAIN, a Dog.
- John Cam Hobhouse
The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. When all other friends desert, he remains.
- George G. Vest
He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, until the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.
Also, there was a show, on the History Channel, I believe, about the dogs of war. If you ever run across it, be sure to have a big box of kleenex...
The Curate thinks you have no soul;
I know that he has none. But you,
Dear friend, whose solemn self-control,
In our foursquare familiar pew,
Was pattern to my youth -- whose bark
Called me in summer dawns to rove --
Have you gone down into the dark
Where none is welcome -- none may love?
I will not think those good brown eyes
Have spent their life of truth so soon;
But in some canine paradise
Your wraith, I know, rebukes the moon,
And quarters every plain and hill,
Seeking his master... As for me,
This prayer at least the gods fulfill;
That when I pass the flood and see
Old Charon by the Stygian coast
Take toll of all the shades who land,
Your little, faithful, barking ghost
May leap to lick my phantom hand.
I have a book that has a photo of the real Chips. In the film he was played by a handsome German Shepherd. In RL, he wasa setter/husky cross. That dog looked more like a wolf than a wolf! Just a gorgeous animal...
There's a short story called "Home is the Hero" by Corey Ford. It appears in the anthology The Personality of the DOg, ed. Brandt Aymar. It is the worth the effort to track down this story.
The Power of the Dog - Rudyard Kipling
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years that nature permits
Are closing in asthma or tumors or fits
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers, or loaded guns.
Then you will find--its your own affair
But--you've given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will
When the whimper of welcome is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You still discover how much you care
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We've sorrow enough in the natural way
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em the more do we grieve;
For when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short time loan is as bad as a long--
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
Treat me kindly my beloved friend, for no heart in the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.
Do not break my spirit with a stick, for thought I might lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.
Speak to me often, for your voice is the worlds sweetest music, as you must know by the wagging of my tail when the sound of your call falls upon my waiting ears.
Please take me inside when it is cold and wet, for I am a domesticated animal, no longer accustomed to the bitter elements.
I ask for no greater pleasure than the privilage of sitting at your feet.
Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for I cannt tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me wholesome food that I may stay well to romp and play and walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in any danger.
And my friend when I am old and no longer enjoy good health, hearing and eyesite, do not take any heroic efforts to keep my life going.
Please see to it that my life is taken gently. I shall leave this earth knowing with my last breath that my fate was always safest in your hands.
Your best Friend.
||"Smokey," the famous World War II Yorkie of U.S. Army Corporal Bill Wynne hangs out in the helmet that also served as her bathtub on a battlefield in New Guinea. Smokey was a decorated hero and servicemen voted her their top pick to be "Mascot of the South Pacific."|
Smokey, the most famous of Yorkie war dogs (yes, there have been others!) was found in a foxhole near Nabxab on New Guinea in Feb. 1944. At first, her rescuers thought she must belong to the Japanese and took her to a nearby prisoner-of-war camp. But it turned out she didn't understand commands in either Japanese or English. The year-old Yorkie soon ended up as the mess mate of Corporal Bill Wynne of Cleveland, Ohio. She was seven inches tall and weighed four pounds. Smokey lived through 150 air raids on New Guinea and was a crew member on 12 air-sea rescues. She became a hero in her own right when she helped build a crucial airfield for Allied war planes.
Bill Wynne, himself, told this story when he appeared on NBC-TV after the war: (An officer of the Communications Section came up and said) `Bill, we have a long pipe to run a wire through under the airstrip. It's eight inches high and seventy feet long and we are stumped as to how to get the wire through. The wire simply has to go through and we wondered if Smokey could do it?'...(when we got to the airfield) I knelt and looked through the pipes and saw that soil had sifted through each of the corrugated sections at the joinings, and in some places the pipe was half filled...in some places, Smokey would have only four inches of headway. I tied a string (tied to the wire) to Smokey's collar and ran to the other end of the culvert...(Smokey) made a few steps in and then ran back. `Come, Smokey,' I said sharply, and she started through again. When she was about 10 feet in, the string caught up and she looked over her shoulder as much as to say `what's holding us up there?' The string loosened from the snag and she came on again. By now the dust was rising from the shuffle of her paws as she crawled through the dirt and mold and I could no longer see her. I called and pleaded, not knowing for certain whether she was coming or not. At last, about 20 feet away, I saw two little amber eyes and heard a faint whimpering sound...at 15 feet away, she broke into a run. We were so happy at Smokey's success that we patted and praised her for a full five minutes.''
Smokey slept on a blanket made from a green felt card table cover in Bill's tent and shared his C-rations and an occasional can of Spam. She lived a long life after the war, traveling all over the world with Wynne and giving demonstrations of her remarkable skills, which included walking a tightrope -- blindfolded!
Do Dogs Go To Heaven?
The question, it seems to me, suggests more the arrogance of Man than the worthiness of these virtuous animals.
Consider for a moment, these personal observations of the dogs I have known and loved:
Without exception, they savored life for all it could offer. They faced every one of their days with a sense of adventure and joy and good-natured spirit, a spirit tempered only by an overriding eagerness to please and love their masters, for nothing gave them more pleasure.
Not to the smallest degree were they capable of recrimination, sarcasm, pettiness or treachery. They were, however, eminently capable of qualities to which Man can only aspire.
"Unconditional love", for example, is a very modern term Man has coined to describe a paragon of loving...an all-forgiving love, a love without reward, expectation, or promise of reciprocity.
Yet dogs, from time immemorial, have exemplified this ideal of love.
What other friend, I wonder, would have not a flicker of care whether you were successful or an abject failure, whether you were homely or comely, clean or smelly-dirty, foolish or clever, beggar or king?
Who else would judge you--not by your appearance, power, or money--but solely by the kindness of your hand and heart?
Yet who else, I ask, would forgive a blow with a kiss to the offending hand?
Come what may, he loves--no, adores--you, be you sinner or saint. And he will softly lick the sores and wounds the world gives you, and never ask (or worse, tell you) what you did to deserve them.
And if Man is a dog's "God", what man serves God with such a thoroughly cheerful, immediate and unquestioning obedience as a dog serves his master?
Show me a man who so delights in all the great bounties God has given him.
Show me a man as gleefully grateful for his wonderous blessings as a dog is for a scrap of would-be garbage from his master's hand.
Show me a man as trustful, as humbly devoted, as appreciative and joyfully submissive to God, as my brainless, souless dog is to me.
Yes, show me this man, this saint, who so embodies all these abiding virtures.
Then I will show you, my friend, a man with a soul as deserving of Heaven as the most meager of dogs.
Roy Alan Wilson / Millburn, New Jersey / February 29, 1996
My father-in-law once saw a bird dog get bitten in the nose by a large rattlesnake. The dog's nose swelled up to the size of a softball for about a week and then shrank to normal. The dog thought nothing of it.
I once worked with a Labrador Retriever on a pond on a cold day. The dog charged so hard so often into the water/ice that he eventually cut his chest and we had to put him in the truck for the rest of the day.
I have a Cairn Terrier (like Toto) who is deathly afraid of his dog bowl and sneaks up on it.
That's hilarious! Terriers are so comical. Mine sure keeps me grinning.
Canine Property Laws
- If I like it, it's mine.
- If it's in my mouth, it's mine.
- If I can take it from you, it's mine.
- If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.
- If it's mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.
- If I'm chewing something up, all the pieces are mine.
- If it just looks like mine, it's mine.
- If I saw it first, it's mine.
- If you are playing with something and you put it down, it automatically becomes mine.
- If it's broken....It's yours.
They Call me Bear
My name is Bear, I roamed the world
With my friend called Minnie Pearl
We faithfully served our humans well
And guarded them, Im here to tell
We chased the deer and squirrels too
And raced the trails Oh how we flew!
I marked the yard and barked in glee
When the bowl was passed to me
I chased the ball and let it go
(I know Minnie just thinks Im slow)
I pressed my nose up to the pane
To see my friends who knew my name
I would talk theyd answer back
With barks and growls and thats a fact
The cats, the dogs, the people too
They loved me lots because they Knew
That I was the Bear.
I plowed through snow like a mighty ship
I cruised the fields and feared no whip
I loved life and it loved me
My world was of serenity
The sun shone warm upon my pelt
No lucky dog has ever felt
As free as I near mountains high
As my life went racing by
My belly full, my sister near
Life for me held no fear
I leave this world with few regrets
Ive had my say as do most pets
So shed a tear then smile with me
As I go to wait for family
Ill miss your hand upon my head
And all the words you ever said
Ill just be gone for a little bit
To prepare a place for you to sit
So I might lie at your feet
In a place of warmth and smells so sweet
Meet me at the Rainbow Span
And well explore another land
Just you and the Bear
Bear and Minnie are both gone now in the past year. Bear left us in April and Minnie in August. The vet said that they were taken down by lyme disease (even though we tried to protect them with tick and flea medicine and collars). We loved them both. A new addition to the family is Emma, an Australian Silky Terrier. She is a big dog in a little suit.
Where To Bury A Dog
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.
by Ben Hur Lampman
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 highly recommend adopting from a breed rescue organization, or your local Humane Society, unless you are in the dog show business. Even so, I have a 'show dog' and faithful companion -- he just doesn't have 'papers.'
When I was young I had a terrier mutt that followed me everywhere. Woods, railroad track, shopping center, barber shop, street corner, friends house, you name it. And it didn't matter if I walked or rode my bicycle that dog was right beside me.
My best friend closed his eyes last night,
As his head was in my hand.
The Doctors said he was in pain,
And it was hard for him to stand.
The thoughts that scurried through my head,
As I cradled him in my arms.
Were of his younger, puppy years,
And OH...his many charms.
Today, there was no gentle nudge
With an intense "I love you gaze",
Only a heart thats filled with tears
Remembering our joy filled days.
But an Angel just appeared to me,
And he said, "You should cry no more,
GOD also loves our canine friends,
He's installed a 'doggy-door"!
jan cooper '95
Yes, we didn't think we would ever have another dog after our 15 year old female Golden died several years ago. We couldn't see taking on a puppy, since we both work long hours. After four years 'dogless', I started "shopping" the breed rescue organizations on line. Finally I applied and ultimately we adopted a full grown dog.
We bring him to work with us every day where he gets plenty of socialization. He goes to obedience and agility training for fun. He has become an adored member of our family in such a short time.
We have taken him on cross country trips to spend Holidays with the grandchildren. He's a perfect companion and guest. He never barks, or whimpers, at the office. He's just wonderful. We haven't forgotten our previous Golden, but this big guy has just stolen our hearts.
I know that in Wisconsin, Golden Retriever Rescue of Wisconsin found excellent homes for more than 300 dogs last year. many of these dogs would have been put down without this wonderful organization.
And to mine as I read your words.
What a great story. I would say "heartwarming", but it's too close to "heartworming"! :)
We were very lucky with Max. He was just rambunctious. I can't believe some of the reasons people have for giving up (or throwing away) their dogs. It is interesting that GRROW gets many more male Goldens than females -- and I just think it is because the males need just a little more discipline and training. Max was hard to handle in the beginning (I think he was younger than the 2 years that they estimated). But with basic obedience training and a lot of love, he is just an angel after a few months. He's very large and strong and would be hard for someone little to handle.
On the other hand, he never barks or whines, so he is a perfect office dog. We have to watch his chewing (he got an oriental rug the first night he was in my home) but we provide lots of things to chew and no opportunity to get at the stuff I don't want him to chew! I think that in a few years I'll be able to trust him over night on the oriental rugs. Right now he gets a synthetic machine made rug in the kitchen!
He really is a special guy. So athletic, and just a joy to watch him run.
Many thanks for the link
You're not older, you're better.
Seems there was a drive to memorialize the war dog, and some expletive deleteds in congress said it was an insult to human vets, as the war dogs were just "government property", like tanks or rifles. Has there ever been a soldier who had that attitude towards the dogs on which his platoon depended for their safety and lives? I truly doubt it.
Anyhow, what had been suggested was placing the war dog memorial (a bronze statue of a doberman looking alert) right outside the entrance to Arlington National Cemetary. The idea was, the soldiers slept better when they knew the dogs were watching over them . The honored dead are eternally at rest...And eternally standing guard, watching over them ,is the War Dog.
I don't know if that plan was ever implemented, but who better to honor than the war dog? And where would be a better place for the statue?,