Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here,
that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all our special friends
so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water, and sunshine and our friends
are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who have been ill and old are restored to health and vigor;
those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again,
just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing;
they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together,
but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance.
His bright eyes are intent; his eager body begins to quiver.
Suddenly, he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass,
his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet,
you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again.
The happy kisses rain upon your face;
your hands again caress the beloved head,
and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet,
so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together...
This page is dedicated to Chewie. She was a cocker spaniel cross.
Chewie was the first dog that Rod and I got when we were on our own. She loved
to fetch a ball. She would bring the ball back to you until you thought your arm was
going
to fall off. You could throw the ball over the house, into the trees, anywhere and she
would find it. For months after she died, we found tennis balls all over our yard.
She also loved going for walks with us in the field.
When I would walk out of the house, she would come running and wait for the signal.
If I said "Let's go!", she'd take off into the field, knowing I wouldn't be
far behind her.
Unfortunately it was on one of these walks where she ventured onto the road
at the wrong time and she was gone from us forever.
Five years after she died, our family was sitting around talking about her.
My little sister, who would have been only three at the time of Chewie's death
and had probably only seen her a total of four or five times,
said she remembered her and her obsession with tennis balls.
She said "I miss Cheiw, she was a good dog."
In those few visits to our house, Chewie had worked her magic on my little sister.
She worked that magic on all of us.
This page was very hard for me to do.
She was a very special dog and looking through the pictures of her to pick
the ones I wanted to put on here still brought tears to my eyes even after all these
years.
Chewie and Gramp on one of their many trips out into the fields out
back.
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