Remembered, Never Forgotten.
Repeating this so loved Poem.
A Parting Prayer
Dear Lord, please open your gates
and call St. Francis
to come escort this beloved companion
across the Rainbow Bridge.
Assign him to a place of honor,
for he has been a faithful servant
and has always done his best to please me.
Bless the hands that send him to you,
for they are doing so in love and compassion,
freeing him from pain and suffering.
Grant me the strength not to dwell on my loss.
Help me remember the details of his life
with the love he has shown me.
And grant me the courage to honor him
by sharing those memories with others.
Let him remember me as well
and let him know that I will always love him.
And when it's my time to pass over into your paradise,
please allow him to accompany those
who will bring me home.
Thank you, Lord,
for the gift of his companionship
and for the time we've had together.
And thank you, Lord,
for granting me the strength
to give him to you now.
This page is dedicated to our past Collies and others that have brought so much joy to other families that have since past over the Rainbow Bridge.
We know that until they see them again they will wait and watch patiently with other family members for their loved ones to arrive.
Loving words from "Mom":
He was a bit of a prankster. He loved hide and seek with his people and Violet (his sister). He loved beautiful young women, especially runners.
Carpenters, painters, roofers, and stone masons were his man friends.
As Billy said, "he's like a star defensive back, always blocking your forward motion."
He loved Mason, managed Violet, and appreciated a good nap in front of the fire. He was Emily's boy above all else.
When he was 8 months old, he escaped from Emily and me after a walk at Middlesex School. We split up and searched.
A large group of faculty and staff dressed in black was walking across the circle from the chapel to the Terry Room.
I came out from behind a building just as the last of them was passing thru the big double doors into the building.
There was a fluffy sable tail protruding from the center of the rear of the group. I donned my sunglasses, pulled up my hood and followed.
Through the glass wall I saw the people and a buffet.
It was a funeral reception for a retired faculty member, and there was Duncan, up on the mezzanine, seated in front of the Athletic Director,
politely removing the roast beef from the plate on his lap.
Duncan, you fulfilled your commitment to this family, and I love you for it.
Here's to the big roast beef buffet across the rainbow bridge.