My Prayer

The Legend of Grace
An Old Indian Legend

"There is an old, old legend of how it came to be,
that dog forsook the wild to dwell with folks like you and me.
Now man and beast they lived on a common bit of earth.
Each specie thought the other of very little worth.

One day there was a rumble, the earth began to quake.
It gave a mighty shudder, and then began to break.
A crack began to widen between the beasts and man.
Some watched the crevasse deepen, but most just turned and ran.

Now dog surveyed the distance, and man beheld it too.
Between them sprang a yearning, a feeling strange and new.
Then each one begged the other to make the fateful leap.
Yet each one dreaded jumping a crack so wide and deep.

So dog compelled his courage, and told man he would try.
He eyed the fatal distance, for if he failed, he'd die.
Then dog prepared to jump across, his courage had decided.
That if he could but make the jump, they'd no more be divided.

His muscles bunched beneath him; his body left the ground.
The wind raced past his muzzle; his heart began to pound.
His senses sought the purchase of land beneath his feet.
At last-his forepaws met the ground, his mission was complete!

No! His hind feet have slipped and he's falling off the side!
His gallant farewell look said, "At least, new friend, I tried."
With disbelieving glance, man beheld his falling friend.
He wouldn't let it happen; it couldn't be the end!

Then flesh smote air in searching and hand met paw and fur.
Then man pulled dog to safety as heart to heart they were.
Man called and dog responded, and though the gulf was wide.
Man gained the loyal canine, forever by his side."

By Klea V. Stilwell

Thanks BOBKITTEN

~~COON HUNT~~

"C'mon dawg, moon's up, time fer us to git us some vittles for the ol' stew
pot."  The coonhound stretches, glad to be free of his chain.

The Tennessee moon lights the sky and the trail leading up Pike Mountain.
The dog runs ahead, sniffing scents and marking trails along the way.

"Durn fine time to goes huntin' with this here cold," reasons the dog.
 "Cain't smell a thang, let alone a coon."

 Tossing his gun over his left shoulder the hunter follows the dog along the
trail.   Blue knows the trail well, and so he should.  He's been tracking
this territory since he was but a pup in his mother's womb.

 An owl's voice echoes throughout the trees, whoo, whoo, whoo-whoo.whoo.
Five whoo's confirms it's a great horned owl. The night air is fresh, crisp
and scented with cedar.

Raccoon sniffs the air, scratches his belly then hangs all fours legs back
over the tree branch and waits.  "That darn fool dog is back again looking
for a chase.  Never fails, full moon always brings out the crazies. Oh well,
guess I'd better lay down the trail and let the games begin," mumbles
Raccoon, backing down the old fir.  Waddling up the trail he stops,
scratches his pesky fleas and scents the forest floor.  Then making a hasty
exit back towards his favourite fir he circles three times making each
circle larger than the last.  Back on the trail he rubs his belly on the
fallen cedar releasing more musk before running through the hollow log and
up the massive maple.

Blue's baying fills the air.  The dog has picked up Raccoon's scent.

The hunter whispers "Good dawg Blue, go git em," as he releases the leash.

"I'm not howling at the coon ye ol' fool, I'm howling 'coz my head aches, my
eyes are watering and mah nose is a itchin' somethin' awful.

 Blue sniffs the ground, finds a blade of grass and lifts his leg releasing
a spurt of hot liquid from his endless reservoir.  Then after pawing at the
soft earth, he trots off down the trail. A rabbit's dying squeal  announces
owl's kill.

Sniff, sniff..achoooo!    Blue sits, his drooping brown eyes tear from the
sneeze, then licking his nose he tosses his head instigating a tremor that
ends in his tail and he's off!

Raccoon naps, building stamina. His eyes search the night's sky.  Twinkling
stars reflect in his black eyes as his nose relays the message that dog has
picked up his trail.  Head first he silently slips down the tree and
prepares for the chase.

Blue sniffs out the spot where Raccoon sat scratching fleas.  Two stray
freeloaders catapult into their new furry forest. He's found the scent and
welcomes the return of his olfactory tracker by baying at mother moon. Head
to the ground he lopes along the trail to the majestic fir where he
circles three times, marks the tree with his stream then sniffing the air
bolts for the fallen cedar.

"Ah can smell thet varmit now," howls Blue, nose sniffing the mossy log.
"He's up to his ol' tricks agin' hidin' out in thet holler log.  I'll just
mosey on over there like I ain't interested and catch him nappin'."

Blue is onto something.  He has changed his tactics.  His nose is no longer
shoveling its way through the woods. He seems to be out for a midnight
stroll with his proud head held high, and tail stretched to the stars.

Raccoon sits in the thicket waiting, every nerve ending taut with
excitement.  He watches as dog runs through his hollow log and sniffs the
maple's roots.  Like a musician awaiting the drop of the baton he waits. His
button eyes twinkle with excitement, his whiskers twitch in anticipation,
and then as dog's  nose finds the fresh scent he is off and running!

  Blue, shivering from cold and old age grows tense as the coon's odor
invades his brain.  A flash of fur catches his eye as Raccoon exits the
brambles.  Instantly the motion transmitted to the brain sparks the dog into
action.

"Thar he goes!"

The silent woods  come alive to the sounds of predator and prey thrashing
through the underbrush.

Raccoon heads for the creek, skips across the stepping stones, jumps ashore,
runs halfway up the nearest tree, then quickly backtracks only this time he
swims back to shore, saunters down the trail and climbs his favourite tree.
And there he sits like a spectator, watching dog.

Blue gallops around the blackberry brambles even though Raccoons scent is
deep inside.  He remembers the last time he fenced with his adversary and
ended up full of thorns.

  "I kin smell his sorry self, all the way to the creek and I'm closin' in
on him now," Blue muses as he gingerly approaches the slippery wet stones.
He carefully makes his way to shore where he immediately picks up a whiff of
Raccoon.

  "Got him!"  Blue sits 'neath the tree, throws back his head and bays to
the moon.

Blue signals  that he's treed the raccoon.  Like a child playing hopscotch
the hunter jumps the creek.

He greets his dog.  " Hey thar Blue, good dog. Sit boy, whilst I hooks up
yer leash."

 Blue inhales two milkbone biscuits fetched from his master's jeans as the
hunter shines his flashlight into the branches.  Blue's eyes follow the
light.

A flying squirrel peeks out of an old woodpecker hole, then slowly withdraws
his head back into the safety of his den.  There is no raccoon to be found.

Man and dog walk side by side down the trail.

"Looks like that old wizard outfoxed you again Blue.  Never ye mind bud,
we'll git him one of these nights . Let's go home, this hunt has me
hankerin' fer some shine."

A lonely cloud embraces the moon, lingers for a while then passes on.

Raccoon silently moves higher up the tree and as  man and dog pass beneath
he covers his eyes with both hands.  No sense in taking any chances.   He is
too high for Blue's old nose to pick up his scent, but one shine of the
flashlight on his twinkling eyes would surely give him away.  Raccoon
watches the pair walking together back down the mountain trail, then
chirring to himself he stretches out and surveys his kingdom one more time
before sleep dims the light in his coal black eyes.

Dee Walmsley
deew74@home.com

WHO SAY'S YOU CAN'T ENJOY YOUR WORK?

WOLVES LAIR

Little Paws Prayer 

This is a prayer for little paws 
All up and down the land, 
Driven away, no friendly voice 
Never an outstretched hand. 

For weary paws of little beasts 
Torn and stained with red, 
And never a home and never a rest, 
Till little beasts are dead. 

Oh God of homeless things, look down 
And try to ease the way 
Of all the little weary paws 
That walk the world today. 

Author Unknown 

Thanks Scott

WELCOME AT RAINBOW BRIDGE

On the morning of September 11, 2001, there was an 
unprecedented amount of activity at the Rainbow Bridge. Decisions 
had to be made. They had to be made quickly. And, they were. 

An issue, not often addressed here, is the fact that many 
residents really have no loved one for whom to wait. Think of the 
pups who lived and died in hideous puppy mills. No one on earth loved or
 protected them. What about the many who spent unhappy lives tied in backyards? 
And, the ones who were abused. Who are they to wait for? 

We don't talk about that much up here. We share our loved 
ones as they arrive, happy to do so. But we all know there is 
nothing like having your very own person who thinks you are the most
 special pup in the Heavens. 

Last Tuesday morning a request rang out for pups not 
waiting for specific persons to volunteer for special assignment.. 
An eager, curious crowd surged excitedly forward, each pup
wondering what the assignment would be. 

They were told by a solemn voice that unexpectedly, all at 
once, over 4,000 loving people had left Earth long before they were 
ready. All the pups, as all pups do, felt the humans' pain deep in their own hearts.
 Without hearing more, there was a clamoring among them - "May I have
 one to comfort?" "I'll take two, I have a big heart." 
"I have been saving kisses forever." 

One after another they came forward begging for assignment. One cozy-looking
 fluffy pup hesitantly asked, "Are there any children coming? I would be very comforting for a child 'cause I'm soft and squishy and I always wanted to be hugged."
 A group of Dalmatians came forward asking to meet the Firemen and be their
 friends. The larger working breeds offered to greet the Police Officers
 and make them feel at home. 
Little dogs volunteered to do what they do best, cuddle and kiss. 
Dogs who on Earth had never had a kind word or a pat on 
the head, stepped forward and said, "I will love any human who needs love." 

Then all the dogs, wherever on Earth they originally came from, rushed to the Rainbow Bridge and stood waiting, overflowing with love to share - each tail wagging an American Flag. 

by AlexanderTheodore, Bouvier

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Tom

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