My Beautiful loving girl, you left too soon!
Bee Jay's Sasha
8/89 - 2/98
Sabra's IRS x Bee Jay's Zera vom Haus JJ
Once in a Lifetime
Dogs


tribute to her brother

Fritz
The Spirit of a German Shepherd Dog

I was standing on a hillside, in a field of blowing wheat
And the spirit of a German Shepherd Dog was lying at my feet.
She looked at me with kind dark eyes, an ancient wisdom shining through
And in the essence of her being, I saw love there too.

Her mind did lock upon my heart as I stood there on that day
And she told me of this story about a place so far away.
I stood upon that hillside in a field of blowing wheat
And in a twinkling of a second, her spirit had left my feet.

Her tale did put my heart at ease, my fears did fade away
About what lay ahead of me on another distant day.
"I live among God's creatures now, in the heavens of your mind
So do not greive for me my friend, as I am with my kind.

My collar is a rainbow's hue, my leash a shooting star
My boundaries are the Milkey Way where I sparkle from afar.
There are no pens or kennels here, for I am not confined
But free to roam God's heavens, among my Sheperd kind.

I nap the day on a snowy cloud, gentle breezes rocking me
And dream the dreams of earthlings, and how it used to be.
The trees are full of liver treats and tennis balls abound
And Milkbones line the walkways, just waiting to be found.

There even is a ring set up, the grass all lush and green
And everyone who gaits around becomes the Best of Breed.
For we're all winners in this place, we have no faults you see
And God passes out those ribbons, to each one, even me.

I drink from waters laced with gold, my world a beauty to behold
And wise old dogs do form my pride to amble at my very side.
At night I sleep in an angel's arms, her wings protecting me
And moonbeams dance about us as stardust falls on thee.

So when your life on earth is spent and you stand at Heaven's gate
Have no fear of lonliness, for here, you know I'll wait."
If a dog be well remembered
...beneath a cherry tree or an apple tree or
any flowering shrub of the garden is an
excellent place to bury a good dog.
Beneath such trees, such shrubs, she 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.  For if the dog be
well-remembered, if sometimes she leaps
through your dreams actual as in life, eyes
kindling, laughing, begging, it matters not
at all where the dog sleeps.  On a hill
where the wind is unrebuked and the trees
are roaring, or beside a stream she knew in
puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness
of a pastureland, where the most
exhilarating cattle graze.  It is all one to
the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is
gained and nothing is lost --if memory
lives.  But there IS one place to burry a
dog.  If you bury her in this spot, she 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 shall not
growl at her, nor resent her coming, for
she belongs there.  People may scoff at
you, who see no lightest blade of grass
bent by her footfall, who hear no whimper,
people who may never really have had a
dog.  Smile at them, for you shall know
something that is hidden from them, and
which is well worth the knowing.
The
best place to bury a good dog
is in the heart of her master.