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Please Wish Humphrey The Puli A Safe Journey


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The news I feared, fast growing abdominal tumour. It couldn't be felt before, it can now. I explained to Damien that I wanted to take him home with me for the night and will ring surgery in the morning to arrange a vet visit as I wanted him pts at home. Also that way Polly can see him when he has gone to the Bridge, otherwise she will go looking for him the minute my back is turned. Damien was fine with that, he understood and I think was relieved that I made the decision and he didn't have to convince me it was the right thing.

 

Humph can drink but won't eat now, not even a bit of sardine. He is getting weaker. Time to go.

 

I am so sorry to hear this Phoebe :GroupHug: The only thing that can be said is that you are now clear in your mind that you will be doing the right thing for dear Humphrey :wub:

At least you have a clear diagnosis and not just guessing. You will be doing him the greatest kindness that anyone can do for someone they love dearly.

I will be thinking of you all and wishing dear Humph a trouble free journey :wub: :GroupHug: :GroupHug: :GroupHug:

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Phebe will be thinking of you, Humphrey, Polly and Patchwork Cat tomorrow and hope Humphs passing is peaceful and swift. :GroupHug:

 

 

This is a poem that Kaye posted some time ago on Lurcher Link which I hope will bring you some comfort.

 

 

 

There are various places in which a dog may be buried.

 

I am thinking now of a Setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine, and who, so far as I am aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This Setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam. And at its proper season, the cherry tree strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub is an excellent place to bury a dog.

Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavoursome bone, or lifted his 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 he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked, and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he new in puppy hood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture lane where most exhilarating cattle grazed, is all one to the dog, and all one to you. And nothing is gained, nothing is lost if memory lives.

 

But, there is one place to bury a dog….

 

If you bury him in this spot, he 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 him nor resent his coming, for he belongs there. People may laugh at you who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall...who hear no whimper, people who never really had a dog. Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing.

 

The one best place to bury a dog is in the heart of his master.

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