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Touche Turtle -- R.I.P.
When I was a small child, I was given a Desert Tortoise as a pet. I loved him dearly and named him Touche Turtle after the famous Hanna-Barbera cartoon character. One day, I was shocked to find that Touche had dug himself into a burrow and had died. I was heartbroken, and was afraid to touch him for a couple of days, but I decided I had better be brave and give him a decent Christian burial. I put him in a cardboard box, dug a deep hole in the back yard and laid him to rest with a few improvised words and a bier of flowers from the garden. As time went by, I adjusted to the loss of my cherished pet, until several years later, when I discovered to my horror that Desert Tortoises hibernate through the Winter. I'm sorry Touche...where ever you are! Please forgive me! 
Blackie Here lies Blackie, Chased a car, Caught in the muffler, Dragged through the tar, Around the corner, Across the track, He might not be dead, But he never came back. But if he is, This I pray, He's running through green fields, At play. Chasing frisbees Eating Rump Roast round, Up in Heaven, Not here in the cold, cold ground. A Labrador Retriever, One of the best, He saved a child, they put medals on his chest. Beloved by all, Especially my niece, WE LOVED YOU BLACKIE, REST IN PEACE! Mickey Huffstetter
Popeye Been gone for a long time, never forgotten. He was a good ol' boy, born somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Endured a lot of hard times with us, and the good times, too. The old man got him when he was just a tiny pup and Pop hung tough for damn near 17 years. In the end I reckon he just got tired. Deaf, gimpy with arthritis, shotgun pellets in his ass, shrapnel wounds perhaps from taking down a deer (or a prize cow) or from messing around with the wrong woman. But, Popeye was always one hell of a dog. Eat the ass out of an intruder (or mailmen or cops), all's we had to do was just grab that ruff of fur around his neck and holler "Go!" Climb a 6 foot fence, ford a raving river for a stick or a frisbee. Didn't have much tolerance for other male dogs or cats of any kind. Nope, none a'tall. Had a few war wounds to prove it, too. Pop used to run away. Not because he didn't love us. Just because... Doggie wander-lust and a crazy need for adventure. The old man always ran ads in the paper for him (sure, Pop could read) or just mapped out miles and scrounged around till he found Pop. One time these kids had him tied to a tree, had re-named him Killer and were counting on siccing him on other dogs. Another time, some old redneck had him and was going to breed him with his dog, that's just how good looking Popeye was. I suppose the only time Pop didn't want to come back home was the time he ran off and landed on easy street. Be damned if some rich one wasn't riding Pop around on his yacht, feeding him top sirloin and calling him "Handsome" But the old man whistled and Pop sailed right on up into the bed of that pickup truck. Think he held a grudge about being found that time... Popeye crossed the country at least three times and back, in all sorts of bogus vehicles -- slept in motels and under trucks and out in the cold and down by the river. He was always there and he was always just a good old boy. He's buried up in the Oregon Cascades next to a river, in the cool of an old Douglas Fir. He died in California, but the old man didn't feel it was fitting to lay his boy down in the land o' fruit and nuts. So, we made a sad sojourn to lay Pop away fittin'. The old man got drunk and stayed drunk for about a year after Pop died. The old man won't ever be the same. I'm just glad he didn't have Pop stuffed and mounted on wheels so he could always have him nearby. Took a heap of talking, but I finally convinced the old man that Pop was the best of dogs and deserved a safe, comfortable place to rest. So, Popeye, here's to you, boy. Thanks for being a fine friend and courageous companion. Stout of heart, Sound of spirit the very last of all the Carolina Yeller Dogs Good Boy. Popeye The Dog
Bear the Magnificent 1988 - 1990 Bear was a 125 lb Bouvier De Flandres. He was what is termed a "serious" dog. My wife is only 4'5" and has Cerebral Palsy. We lived in L.A. at the time, and one day while I was at work, a car pulled into our driveway and a young gang member type got out and came up to our front door. It was summer time, and the door was open with only the screen door preventing him from coming in. He claimed he wanted a drink of water, but my wife was afraid and said he could get water from the hose but could not come inside. This angered him and he made an attempt to force open the screen. The inside of the house was dark, especially compared to the bright sunshine outside, and the unfortunate man did not see the massive Bear-Dog sitting at my wife's side! The minute he touched the front screen, Bear went into action. He let out a growl and lunged *through* the screen and onto the intruder. The guy went into hysterics and dashed to the awaiting car and dove through it's open window. Bear was close behind, and with a screech of tires the thirsty visitor departed. I am sure that my wife would have come to grievous harm had Bear not been there to save her, and for that he has my undying love and eternal gratitude!! It is doubly painfully because when he swallowed the bone that killed him (not given to him by us) we could not save him. If there is a Heaven for Dogs, then I'm sure he has an honored place there. Regards, Lou Duncan
Henry I Sven 1991-1994 At first I wanted a gerbil. But my friends were able to convince me to get a hamster. Three weeks later we went to the pet store to buy a hamster. I chose one that I liked but accidentally got another one that looked exactly the same. We took the hamster home, and I decided to name him Henry Sven (We were living in Sweden at the time). At first Henry and I played a lot together. One day Henry bit me, and I had to go to the nurse. He was still young at the time so we figured that he didn't know that my finger wasn't food. We had many adventures together. One day when we had some guests over, a two year old girl decided to pick Henry up. We don't know why but our guess is that when his nails touched her hand it hurt a little and she threw him against the wall. I put him back in his cage, and he stayed in his little house for a few days, but after a while he was good as new. One day when it was getting close to the time to bring Henry to America, we found Henry in a coma. One or two days later, I woke up at about 6:00 A.M. and found Henry dead in his little nest that he had made a few weeks earlier. After a nice little burial I got used to life without Henry, but I needed another pet. Now I still miss Henry, but in my room is Henry II. The epitaph about Henry the hamster was submitted by Sam Leven, age 10.
Lady Louise Ciccone 1994-1996 My St. Bernard was named Lady Louise and she was 2 years old when she died. She was the sweetest animal I ever knew and would do anything to protect you. She was outside in the yard one morning in October of 1996 and she was barking because kids at a bus stop were fighting. One kid knocked down another and Lady Louise jumped over the fence to go over and help the kid. While running she crossed the street and was hit by the school bus. She died instantly. The reason why you meant so much to me was because in 1992 at the age of 18 I was diagnosed with cervical spine cancer and I lost pretty much all of my friends. Then 2 years into my treatment, things were only getting worse. I was pretty much all alone and had no one to talk to. Then I decided to get a dog. I went into the pet store and saw you and said "that's the one I want." I left that day feeling that I might be able to overcome this disease. I don't know why, but all of a sudden I started to feel stronger. After 2 years, you were my best friend. When I cried because of the pain from the cancer, and when I got sick because of the chemotherapy, you were there. You would lie next to me and lick the tears away from my face. I want you to know how much you meant to me and how much I loved you. I know that you are in a safe and nice place now with all your canine and feline friends. I think about you all the time. I think about all the fun times we had. I wish you were here to greet me when I come home from my treatments but you're not here anymore. It's hard for someone who has been diagnosed with a disease to lose friends, but when they gain a new best friend they feel better and feel they can fight it. You made me think there was hope and you made me strong. I wish you could be here Lady Louise, because my cancer is now in remission. They think they might be able to do surgery and I might just make it. I'm feeling a little better everyday and I wish you could be here to see me because I look and feel better. And guess what? I finally have a little hair again! You always had more hair than me. Anyway, Lady Louise, remember the good you did and the hope you gave to an 18 year old cancer stricken person. I am now 22 years old and I'm doing OK. A little better than before. If something should happen to me along the way, Lady Louise, I want you to know that I'm coming to where you are. I will meet you and we will pick up where we left off. Chuck
Misty 1979 - 1988 Misty was a brown mutt. She was very loved. My parents had saved her from being killed by some people who didn't want her any more. My parents had her a couple of years before I was born. She passed away when I was 8 years old. Misty and I were very attached. I would not be alive today if it wasn't for her. I lay choking in my crib when she awoke my parents. We had our bad times when I was bugging her and she bit me, but I always forgave her. We also had our fun times like when we played Tug Of War with her sock. We soon found out she was blind when she got lost in the woods. We found her though. She was then diagnosed with Kidney failure. She passed away at the vet's office. I will never forget that dog. I cried for 3 days straight and still get choked up when I think of all the fun we had together. We used to do everything together. I am now 14 years old and miss Misty very dearly. Melanie Gillis Calgary, Alberta, Canada
Moretta and her kittens Moretta and her kittens will live forever in our hearts. We are sure that we will meet again, someday Paolo and Maria Teresa (Italy).
Carnate (Italy), January 29, 1996 In Memory of Moretta and her Kittens Dear Sirs, I sent you an epitaph yesterday for some cats of mine who died or disappeared. After the delivery of the message I printed some pages of your site and I read them carefully. I seldom read before some thoughts as touching as those read in the Virtual Pet Cemetery. And I suddenly cried after reading some of them because I understood the sorrow of the owners of those pets, having experienced the same feeling when I lost some cats of mine: Moretta who died from a mistaken sterilization, two kittens of hers who died under cars, and two others who disappeared. I can state that my pets surely made me a better person. They have taught me and are continually teaching me a lot of things: for example how it is possible (and right) to live happily with not too much, and how they can fight to defend their dears. They have brought a lot of joy and happiness in the lives of my wife and of myself. I live with ten cats now, but I never bought one, all of them were wandering. One of them (Trullina Pooh Trezampe, Three Legs) has three legs, and in spite of this, she gave birth to a nice kitten who lives with us too. They run together in my garden now. That was a great lesson of optimism and trust in life, too ! But each cat has a special personality of its own. And, for this reason, when a cat dies it can not be replaced in our heart by another one. Our heart is the greatest Cemetery for our pets. The sensibility of these pets, the gaze we saw in the eyes of some of them when they were dying, taught us the most important thing and made us closer to God. These creatures MUST have a special type of soul and that is why we are sure that we will meet our lost pets, some day. For this wonderful, tender and educational site we say: thank you from the deep of our hearts where our pets sleep, waiting for us. Paolo and Maria Teresa Sassetti -- Italy
Ode To Spanky Oh I remember the telephone cords you used to eat, The funny way that you walked (so ungraceful and un-feline-like), That blank stare, so void and yet so characteristic of you, Would touch upon my heart as you meowed. Countless dead birds littered the carpet in those days, Brought forth with a hunter's skill; but so bloody and unclean! Father used to say that you were fit only to be made into tennis racquet strings, But I loved you all the same. And then came that fateful day when even the most patient heart was tried: With so many phone-cords inside you, its a wonder you were still alive, to see the light of day! But alas, what could we do? Emergency surgery and fourteen hundred dollars later, Our efforts were a testament to our devotion, Spanky. But once recovered there was but a brief respite, Before you turned back to your obsessive self-indulgence. Cured though you had been by the surgeon's shining blade, We had hoped and we'd prayed for even a more miraculous cure: That you would cease and desist from your peculiar eating habits, And save us all some money and grief. But when once again the doctor proclaimed "It's in there all right," The reminder of money past-spent was too much for Dad. And though we loved you very much, We could not come to terms with one hard fact: That the mental disorder that plagued you, Was once again made manifest, This time to the tune of over two grand. Goodbye, Spanky. T.J. Father would not have it. He was haunted by images of wasted money past-spent, as he suffered flashbacks of money once spent.
Emerson the Parakeet 1995 to 1995 A Poem for Emerson Emerson, you silly bird...you've left us in the lurch! You only lasted three days before falling off your perch! At first it was a crushing blow (though now we are much calmer), And still we have your cage-mates: the feathered "Lake" and "Palmer". So Emerson you leave behind this simple legacy: a deep appreciation for the "Pet Smart" Guarantee! The Harbur Family: Jim, Karen, Andy and Casey
Buster Brown 1992-1995 Buster Brown was a little brown mutt. He weighed twenty pounds and was bow-legged. He chased cars and wouldn't come in at night. He loved everyone but my grandpa. He slept in my bed at night, he puked on my pillow at least once every three months. We will all miss him. Buster Brown was two and a half. We had him since he was six weeks. We saved his life. He was being sent to the pound. My mother saved him from that fate and took him home to us. He got ran over when we were going to the fair. Ironically, my mother accidently ran him over. We love him. Haley, Bill, Leisa, Jasie, and Lindy Stokes. |
