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