He wasn’t a great conversationalist and he didn’t give any advice. He just listened, loved unconditionally and looked at you with those eyes of compassion and understanding. He was a little different. Some say he was neurotic. Some say he needed doggie Prozac. He did not like change, black clothes, suitcases or people hugging goodbye. He didn’t like his front paws touched. He was scared of a lot of things. He was fiercely loyal and protective of my mother. He drank out of plastic cups instead of a water bowl. He was a finicky eater and preferred people food. He liked tea with milk and sugar. He loved sweets. He was a bit neurotic at times, maybe because of his breed or maybe he was abused as a puppy, we don’t know. When he was younger he ran so fast – it was amazing the speed he had. He had bad breath because of dental problems. He loved to be rubbed on his ears and on his belly. He was a constant companion to my mom…he followed her everywhere. Even to the bathroom. He would do figure 8’s through her legs as she sat there. He would escort her where ever she was going following closely behind, herding her to where ever she needed to go and waiting to make sure she sat down and that she was OK. He was so smart, yet so not. In the last years of his life, he saw ghosts. He slept on his rug and used his blue pillow. He never liked doggie beds. He preferred the floor or sleeping in the bed with my parents. He was high maintenance as he got older but we all become needier when we get older. His hearing was almost gone – I’d have to bend over and talk straight into his ear for him to hear me. He was 14 years old. He still looked like he was a puppy. He died on Monday. We had made the decision to take him to be put down because he was suffering with his breathing and collapsing – he could not go outside without me carrying him out to do his business. He’d come back in the house and just collapse. I believe the ice and snow really took a toll on him. He was just plain tired. Simba never made it to the vet to be put to sleep. He died at home with the 3 of us around him. At one point he raised his head to make sure we were there. And then his little paws started running. Running with St. Francis to the Rainbow Bridge. We will always love you Simby. You were such a good dog! Our hearts are broken.
By the edge of a woods, at the foot of a hill,
Is a lush, green meadow where time stands still.
Where the friends of man and woman do run,
When their time on earth is over and done.
For here, between this world and the next,
Is a place where each beloved creature finds rest.
On this golden land, they wait and they play,
Till the Rainbow Bridge they cross over one day.
No more do they suffer, in pain or in sadness,
For here they are whole, their lives filled with gladness.
Their limbs are restored, their health renewed,
Their bodies have healed, with strength imbued.
They romp through the grass, without even a care,
Until one day they start, and sniff at the air.
All ears prick forward, eyes dart front and back,
Then all of a sudden, one breaks from the pack.
For just at that instant, their eyes have met;
Together again, both person and pet.
So they run to each other, these friends from long past,
The time of their parting is over at last.
The sadness they felt while they were apart,
Has turned into joy once more in each heart.
They embrace with a love that will last forever,
And then, side-by-side, they cross over… together.