This site last updated
08/25/06
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Sheltie Angels
Among Us
A sheltie-specific
rainbow bridge page
Sheltie Angel
artwork by
L.M. Crane,
all rights reserved
Ailea's Angels at Rainbow Bridge
The Rainbow Bridge
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 of 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 had 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, someone who was 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 breaks from the group, flying over the green grass, 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 those trusting eyes, so long gone from your life, but never absent from your heart. Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together...
~Author Unknown~
Willows Shadow Dresed In Blu
"Rookie"
October 31, 1991 - August 15, 2006
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A
Sheltie Good Morning
Amy Butcher, 1996
written in honor of our Rookie,
Willows Shadow Dresed In Blu)
When I awake
each morning she is there
Her warm tongue, satiny smooth,
strokes my cheek in daybreak greeting,
the happiest 'hello' I will ever receive.
Her paws rest
upon my chest in quiet patience,
her eyes already a-gleam with mischief,
her tail twitching like a cat's.
The moment I
stir she bounds from the bed and dances,
laughing wildly at my morning cobwebs,
and she chases me through the house and to the door,
a madcap race.
The door I open
for her happy body
and she bounds through the gap,
racing down the steps to pause and glance back.
She speaks to
me once,
an invitation to join her in her frolic on the wet grass,
and then she is gone in a dash,
exploring the secrets of the early morning garden.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There are never words sufficient to describe
exactly what Rookie meant to us over the years she graced our lives. Barely four
years old when she came to Ailea to stay, everything that eventually became what
Ailea is today comes down directly from Rookie. Not just our foundation, Rookie
was also the best puppy nanny anyone could have possibly hoped to find.
A beautiful and elegant bi-blue daughter of Ch Shadow Hill's Silver Breeze,
Rookie measured 14" when she arrived, but in later years shrank to about 13.5".
If she could have been measured in terms of attitude though, Rookie would have
easily towered above all other shelties who have ever come to pass. She
possessed an outstanding well-preserved and passed-on temperament which held her
at the top of the doggie food chain at Ailea's Place her entire life. Not only
ruler of all other dogs that passed through our doors, Rookie also eventually
came to rule the human members of her pack as well. Sometimes with disdain,
sometimes with quiet mirth, Rookie kept us all in our places.
Born October 31, 1991, Rookie lived with us nearly twelve years. During the time
she was with us, she raised two litters of puppies of her own, and then nannied
every other puppy we ever had. In 1997, when Taylor whelped a litter of nine the
day after Christmas, Rookie was there, helping all the way. As her best
girlfriend, Taylor, labored with delivering
the
whelps, Rookie kept vigil and assisted in clean-up and stimulation as each new
puppy arrived. Though I have hundreds of photographs of Rookie, one of my
favorites is of her sitting on the sofa in my living room beside my friend,
Nancy, ears forward, on high alert. Nancy had a tiny girl who was struggling to
survive that 9-puppy litter, tucked down in her sweat shirt, helping keep her
warm against her own body. Rookie was so concerned about the puppy she would not
leave Nancy's side until she saw the puppy safely returned to the whelping box
and Mama Taylor and littermates.
Though slowing down as her fifteenth birthday approached, Rookie was still an
active and happy girl. The last puppy she helped us raise was Quinn, U-Ch Ailea
Emeralds Reign, who was born shortly after Rookie celebrated her twelfth
birthday. With three very active puppies in the house at the time, Rookie
tolerated the antics and exuberant play of all three, the expert Nanny.
When I brought home my latest litter a few weeks ago, when the litter was six
weeks, I was somewhat concerned about how Rookie would respond to them, and
whether or not she would tolerate much puppy play. I needn't have concerned
myself though, as she was right there to check on each of the puppies as they
were placed on my living room floor. At nearly fifteen years she no longer
actively engaged in puppy play, but she would still lie quietly on the floor as
the puppies climbed all around and over her, never once even thinking to lift a
lip against the activities of the puppies bothering her.
For most of those two weeks between the puppies' six and eight weeks of age,
Rookie was back to racing with Onyx and the puppies to the back door when it
opened, or to investigate unfamiliar disturbances or noises. Rookie did not
actually hear the door or unfamiliar noises since she was completely deaf by the
time she was thirteen, but she sure did respond to the other shelties'
activities as they raced to investigate!
When we arrived home from work on Thursday evening, August 10, it was obvious
something had happened to Rookie during the day. When I carried the puppies out
to the puppy yard and took the
two
girls out to go potty, Rookie kind of shuffled across the kitchen floor
following Onyx, and would not come down the steps into the yard. I picked her up
and set her down in the grass and had to help steady her balance. She began to
wander aimlessly with a faltering gate - no happy bounding off the steps that
day! - and was bumping into things. The difficulty walking and aimless wandering
and bumping into things was an obvious sign she had suddenly gone completely
blind.
How easy, as a human, to think things would get better(!), it had never occurred
to me she would have some kind of life-altering "event", as all this time as she
grew older I had thought one day I would come home to find her lying comfortably
in "her" chair (an old, worn-out recliner into which she could still climb),
having passed peacefully in her sleep.
It was a stroke. Took her eyesight, her balance, and her recognition of us. No
welcoming snuffles of her nose in my hand, she tolerated my rubbing her head and
ears with quiet disinterest. That we had become perfect strangers to her was
very disconcerting. How can I comfort this beautiful girl if she no longer
remembers who I am? Though obviously irrevocably changed, she continued to drink
her water, eat kibble, and was pottying in the yard as she has done all her
life. It was impossible for me to understand that she was taking her first
faltering steps toward Rainbow Bridge when she was yet doing all those things to
sustain herself.
When I arrived home from work Monday evening I found her lying on the cool,
kitchen linoleum in the same place she had been when we left for work that
morning. I gently gathered her into my arms and carried her to the yard, the
same as I had been doing since last Thursday evening, to go potty. This time
when I placed her feet on the ground, though, she could not support herself. Her
butt plopped to the ground before she could even begin to urinate, and so
urinated into her britches.
I
could barely rinse her bottom clean through the recognition that had suddenly
overtaken me. Though not wholly unprepared as I was when my mother died, it was
a difficult realization to accept.
She did not eat Monday and I do not know if she took any water during the
previous night or at all during the day Monday. I assumed not, since she was in
the same basic spot at 6 pm as she had been when we left for work earlier that
morning. I was finally able to see and acknowledge what it was I needed to do
for her.
After getting up on Tuesday I sat with her on the floor and held her, running a
brush through her coat one last time. She barely tolerated grooming, poor girl,
but she did always enjoy the body scratch that came with a gentle brushing of
her coat. I clipped a bit of the soft hair from near her face, and carefully
tucked it into a plastic bag for safekeeping. I left her lying on the floor in
the kitchen, resting as comfortably as possible, while I went out into the yard
at the edge of the woods to dig her grave in the shade of the oaks and maples
where Cash and Tara lay. One of the hardest things I have ever had to do, it was
in a different way one of the best things, since the physical labor of moving
the earth a shovelful at a time helped put my mind and my heart in the space I
needed to be.
Once
I was done and had rested a bit I gathered her into my arms and carried her to
the truck. All snuggled into a big blanket I had put on the back seat for her I
drove her out of our driveway for the last time. She lay in my arms and gently
lay her head to rest with one final sigh of relief early yesterday afternoon. No
longer confused, no longer blind, no longer deaf, Rookie is in her heaven with
worlds of puppies to nanny, and we are left to wonder, how will we get through
these next days, weeks, years, without her?
When we choose to share our lives with a dog we know full well we will, in all
likelihood, outlive that dog by years. It is one of those far off into the
future things that crosses our mind from time to time, but is never one of those
things we actually, actively think about or prepare ourselves for. As I sat
there for a few moments, unwilling to stand up to leave and take her home to lay
her to rest, I remember thinking how much I *hate* the circle of Life. I hated
it when my mother died and I hate it yet, having to say my farewells to one of
the most beautiful souls I have ever been blessed and privileged to know in my
life.
We know life is never easy, that we are going to struggle often and regularly
with the different lessons that pass our way over the years. But I cannot but
think today of just how cruel life actually is, forcing us to live the rest of
our days without the best things that could have ever come our way.
Rest well, dear Rook. I will always miss you.
Mama Amy
Cash
October 19, 1989 - March 26, 1998
Good-bye, My Friend
More than anything in the world, my friend, I would have
had you live forever
Forever healthy, forever young, forever happy
I would have given you a meadow to play in, butterflies to chase
A cozy, warm bed in which to nap
And the warm, loving arms of your Special Person
To wrap about your neck
You were a gentleman of the highest caliber
And deserved nothing but the best
As you faded before my
very eyes I knew my wishes for you
Could not come true
And even without your failing health to consider
I know your heart grieved for your Special Person
I could see your pain in your eyes
Each time you gazed through your clouds into the distant woods
Watching, always watching, vainly, for her return
So we said our goodbyes and you
left in dignity
(while I sobbed, wetting your neck)
United once again with the love I could never replace
Released at last
From the existence which I knew had become a great burden
To your huge, gentle heart
Rest easy, my friend
Please read my Collie's story
Tara
September 22, 2000 - November 6, 2000
A Littlest Angel
How I wish it could have been
different,
Tara Baby girl,
you were too sweet to endure the suffering
visited upon you for unexplained reasons.
Though only forty-six days old
and barely seeing the world on your own yet
You had captured my heart and my dreams
but were simply not meant to be.
You are now at peace, Tara Baby girl
and suffer no more.
Bring smiles in your Heaven,
and Sweet Dreams.
Please read Tara's Story
Sheba,
a.k.a. Yoda Dog
Spring, 1988 - August 2, 2003
Never Long Enough :-(
I never dreamed the day would
come
when saying good-bye to you, dear Sheba,
would arrive.
Ever youthful,
you were the best boogey-man chaser in the world,
always securing the perimeter of the yard
when I pulled in the drive.
Sheba, you were part of our lives for over 13 years,
and we are the better for it.
Thank you for sharing yourself with us all this time.
Happy bunny-chasing,
And rest in peace, dear girl.