Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Border Collies don't go to Heaven, they just herd in Another's pasture for a time.
Half of my heart has left me today,
"It's for the best" won't make the ache go away.
It's useless to say you're at rest, this I know,
You don't know anything other than "go",
Somewhere in a pasture you've cornered a Ram,
Or you're herding a foal back to its dam,
And make sure that the cats stay out of the yard,
For you work is fun, doing nothing is hard.
Your hearing and sight will again be restored.
You'll no longer sigh to show us you're bored.
Along the way you'll find you a boy,
Who will chase you and pet you and throw you a toy.
Ginger will be there, waiting for you,
Stormy, Bandit, and Tasha-Bear, too.
And once I arrive and reunite with my Pack,
We'll grab all the toys, and find our way back,
And go 'round again on this earthly plane,
Young and vibrant as pups, free of old age and pain.
And together the World to our will we'll make bend,
My buddy, my partner, my Cowboy, my friend.
Brown Dirt Cowboy
2/12/1996 -∞- 3/2/2010
I love you, buddy.
You'll always be in charge.