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Dog Culture: Tributes
Sidehill’s Mab
Queen of the Celtic Fairies and Beguiler of Men
“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.” Will Rogers, 1897-1935   Sidehill’s Mab, Queen of the Celtic Fairies and Beguiler of Men, is now gossiping with Dancer Dawg, Roscoe the Ratador, and Buck(le) Bear about the challenges of living with me. They are talking of misplaced leashes, late dinners, damned cats (and more damned cats), hours in the back of...
Dog Culture: Tributes
In Tribute to Maggie Mae
Maggie Mae is buried – there just beyond my kitchen window
  Maggie Mae is buried – there just beyond my kitchen window under the summer canopy of ancient apple trees   Appropriate don’t you think? Her round head, round eyes framed in apples, her greeting a dizzying  round go round.               Today the wind picked up             and a dozen apples fell             one split in two revealing             A chambered heart--necessary dark...
Dog Culture: Tributes
Machisma
Doing life on her own terms
“She doesn’t have much time,” my mother said over the phone one April morning, “you should come down this weekend.” My dog, an almost 17-year-old white, coal-eyed Bichon Frise, who had been part of the family since she was four months old, was dying. Whether it was a recently-found tumor or a long-hidden hormonal imbalance, the problem was neurological, and Dr. Cohen told us there was little he...
Dog Culture: Tributes
A Short, Sweet Remembrance
Rhea with her favorite
Rhea, happiest with her favorite person! Rhea passed one a week after this picture from cancer. She was almost 13. --Ernie and Jerry Eppinga, Providence Forge, Va.  
Dog Culture: Tributes
My Sparky
My heart is broken, where did you go? You were in my arms just one week ago Then suddenly nothing but darkness and pain I knew we’d come to the end of your days How would I manage to let you go? Cut the tie that bound you and release your soul? I’d learn to live with just memories Through pain so deep I cannot breathe Soar to the Heavens my beautiful friend I choose to believe...
Dog Culture: Tributes
Sleeping with A Pheasant
A Poem for Cammy Jane, 9/5/2000-2/9/2007
I’m sleeping with a pheasant, Puppy. Cupped hands cradle your toy And gently press its belly to my lips. The warmth of my breath Arouses your scent And I inhale deeply, As if life depends on it. Wild and giddy playmate! I see you prance and stalk And sneak from behind To snatch this bright bird Whose raspy call is muffled In your gentle grasp, And game for capture and release.  ...
Dog Culture: Tributes
A Million-plus Kisses
Lots of love in a too-short lifetime
Lick. Lick. Lick. Those little kisses on my nose sealed the deal. We had to take that adorable Beagle puppy home with us. Our Beagle, Bailey, was a smart, people-loving, stubborn, sweet, independent-minded little soul. Though lacking English skills, Bailey was an excellent communicator. She could make her wishes known using a combination of her nose, barking and whining, and her big brown eyes...
Dog Culture: Tributes
An Unbreakable Bond
How a Chow named Chelsea made life worth living
My heart remains very heavy after the profound loss of my beloved Chow, Chelsea, on August 22, 2009. My best friend for the last nine years, I still struggle through each day trying to cope with the fact that she is no longer with me. She remains in my heart and in my thoughts, as she always will, yet I miss looking into her beautiful eyes and the feel of her soft, black fur. I have been blessed...
Dog Culture: Tributes
Cameron Chillin’
Memories of Christmas and his last family vacation
This is a picture of my best friend and soul mate, Cameron. I lost him unexpectedly on Aug. 6, 2009 at the age of 14-and-a-half years. He was a black and tan mini-Dachshund. I miss seeing his beautiful face, the jingle of his tags and his paws tapping the floor. I got him when he was just six-weeks-old, and he was the perfect companion. He helped my mother during her illness, and helped me get...
Dog Culture: Tributes
Herbie, The Foodie
The story of a Beagle and his belly.
To call Herbie, my family’s rotund former Beagle, a “foodie” isn’t entirely accurate, as that term implies some selectivity in consumption, which Herbie did not have. His time with us was certainly borne of a love of good food, though, more specifically, a love of good drink, having been purchased by my parents from a pet store after their better judgment was drowned in too many margaritas at the...

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