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Timber

9/17/98 - 7/12/07

Every person should be so lucky to meet such a dog once in their life.
I was privileged to live, work and play with one almost every day for nine years.

My pack

I Saw In Louisiana A Live-Oak Growing

I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing,
All alone stood it and the moss hung down from the branches,
Without any companion it stood there uttering joyous leaves of dark green,
And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself,
But I wondered how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone there without its friend near, for I knew I could not,
And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it, and twined around it a little moss,
And brought it away, and I have placed it in sight in my room,
It is not needed to remind me as of my own dear friends,
(For I believe lately I think of little else than of them,)
Yet it remains to me a curious token, it makes me think of manly love;
For all that, and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana
solitary in a wide flat space,
Uttering joyous leaves all its life without a friend or lover near,
I know very well I could not.

-- Walt Whitman

"If you have men who will exclude any of God's creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men."

"I have been all things unholy. If God can work through me, he can work through anyone."

"Preach the Gospel Always. When necessary, use words."

- St. Francis Assissi

The Men that Don't Fit In

- Robert W. Service

There's A race of men that don't fit in,
A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don't know how to rest.

If they just went straight they might go far,
They are strong and brave and true;
But they're always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: "Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!"
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life's been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost; He was never meant to win;
He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;
He's a man who won't fit in.

Well....you checked out my profile for some reason....most likely it WAS something I said...instead of just looking, why not post a reply or shoot me a FReemail? Lemme know what's on your mind, eh?

You are Intruder #:

Alienware

I've got your number, now.

500 years from now, proponents of man-made global warming will be viewed in the same light we now look at the pre-Colombian flat earthers.