Remembering our beloved pets that have crossed over the rainbow bridge ~
We miss them so much!
“I’m not there with you today but know that I haven’t gone astray. I am the wind blowing through your hair and the warmth you feel in the air. When that smile creeps on your face, remember that I am in a good place. And when you’re feeling sad and down, recall memories of me running around. You don’t need to look low and high, just search way deep inside, and know that we’ll never be apart, for I have left my paw-prints on your heart.”
Maisy (pictured above)
Hello Karla and Vicky and all,
I wanted to let you know, as the only kennel she ever stayed at, that we put Maisy down last week after her kidneys failed. She was her bouncy self up until last Monday, and then the end was fast. You were all so good to her that I wanted you to know.
Sometime this summer or fall, we hope to get another Wheaten, and if you know of any good responsible breeders up there, please let me know. After Maisy, we will be Wheaten people always.
Also, if you have any photos of her playing there, I
would dearly love to see them.
Best wishes and thanks,
Buddy (pictured above) is loved and will be missed and considered a “Bestie” of all KPR Staff
Katie Angellini beloved friend of KPR forever.
Ben Flemming (sweet to the core, we will be sorely missed!)
Rest in peace Naw-Ruz kitty…you are missed.
Bennie Foster Rider (pictured above)
Though diagnosed with a terminal illness, Bennie enjoyed every single day he came to play with us. He was with us only a short time but he made a huge impression on us with his zest for life and we think of him often.
Taffy Cogger (pictured above) Despite her age and crippling arthritis, Taffy loved coming to stay with us. Taffy enjoyed being with the small dogs and continued to play like a puppy, even in her old age. She is remembered fondly and missed by all.
Tuffy Carrier (pictured above) Tuffy first began frequent visits after suddenly losing her companion, Maxwell. Having other dogs to interact with helped her depression. She also enjoyed keeping us company at the reception desk where she greeted visitors and soaked up attention. We will miss her spunky presence.
Shamrock Byrne (pictured above) Shamrock was a dog who just made everyone smile with his attitude. He loved to play with everyone, big and small. Every time his “mom” would pick him up, he loudly told her (and everyone else) about how his day went. He left big paw prints on our hearts.
Ginger (pictured above)
Febie (pictured above) the best, sweetest puppy girl!
Azsha (pictured above) So much love to give… sweet girl we will miss her very much.
Muffin (pictured above)
Boogity Ana Menella (pictured above) So many good memories,
a wonderful mascot at KPR
Katie Angelini (pictured above) she was super loved,
one of KPR’s.
I, SILVERDENE EMBLEM O’NEILL (familiarly known to my family, friends, and acquaintances as Blemie), because the burden of my years and infirmities is heavy upon me, and I realize the end of my life is near, do hereby bury my last will and testament in the mind of my Master. He will not know it is there until after I am dead. Then, remembering me in his loneliness, he will suddenly know of this testament, and I ask him then to inscribe it as a memorial to me.
I have little in the way of material things to leave. Dogs are wiser than men. They do not set great store upon things. They do not waste their days hoarding property. They do not ruin their sleep worrying about how to keep the objects they have, and to obtain the objects they have not. There is nothing of value I have to bequeath except my love and my faith. These I leave to all those who have loved me, to my Master and Mistress, who I know will mourn me most, to Freeman who has been so good to me, to Cyn and Roy and Willie and Naomi and — But if I should list all those who have loved me, it would force my Master to write a book. Perhaps it is vain of me to boast when I am so near death, which returns all beasts and vanities to dust, but I have always been an extremely lovable dog.
I ask my Master and Mistress to remember me always, but not to grieve for me too long. In my life I have tried to be a comfort to them in time of sorrow, and a reason for added joy in their happiness. It is painful for me to think that even in death I should cause them pain. Let them remember that while no dog has ever had a happier life (and this I owe to their love and care for me), now that I have grown blind and deaf and lame, and even my sense of smell fails me so that a rabbit could be right under my nose and I might not know, my pride has sunk to a sick, bewildered humiliation. I feel life is taunting me with having over-lingered my welcome. It is time I said good-bye, before I become too sick a burden on myself and on those who love me. It will be sorrow to leave them, but not a sorrow to die. Dogs do not fear death as men do. We accept it as part of life, not as something alien and terrible which destroys life. What may come after death, who knows? I would like to believe with those of my fellow Dalmatians who are devout Mohammedans, that there is a Paradise where one is always young and full-bladdered; where all the day one dillies and dallies with an amorous multitude of houris, beautifully spotted; where jack rabbits that run fast but not too fast (like the houris) are as the sands of the desert; where each blissful hour is mealtime; where in long evenings there are a million fireplaces with logs forever burning, and one curls oneself up and blinks into the flames and nods and dreams, remembering the old brave days on earth, and the love of one’s Master and Mistress.
I am afraid this is too much for even such a dog as I am to expect. But peace, at least, is certain. Peace and long rest for weary old heart and head and limbs, and eternal sleep in the earth I have loved so well. Perhaps, after all, this is best.
One last request I earnestly make. I have heard my Mistress say, “When Blemie dies we must never have another dog. I love him so much I could never love another one.” Now I would ask her, for love of me, to have another. It would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again. What I would like to feel is that, having once had me in the family, now she cannot live without a dog! I have never had a narrow jealous spirit. I have always held that most dogs are good (and one cat, the black one I have permitted to share the living room rug during the evenings, whose affection I have tolerated in a kindly spirit, and in rare sentimental moods, even reciprocated a trifle). Some dogs, of course, are better than others. Dalmatians, naturally, as everyone knows, are best. So I suggest a Dalmatian as my successor. He can hardly be as well bred or as well mannered or as distinguished and handsome as I was in my prime. My Master and Mistress must not ask the impossible. But he will do his best, I am sure, and even his inevitable defects will help by comparison to keep my memory green. To him I bequeath my collar and leash and my overcoat and raincoat, made to order in 1929 at Hermes in Paris. He can never wear them with the distinction I did, walking around the Place Vendôme, or later along Park Avenue, all eyes fixed on me in admiration; but again I am sure he will do his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial dog. Here on the ranch, he may prove himself quite worthy of comparison, in some respects. He will, I presume, come closer to jack rabbits than I have been able to in recent years. And for all his faults, I hereby wish him the happiness I know will be his in my old home.
One last word of farewell, Dear Master and Mistress. Whenever you visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my long happy life with you: “Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved.” No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you, and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail.
Tao House, December 17th, 1940