Life is short...

C

countinguy

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Ok i have had a bad fukking week as was gonna let all this bs go, but w/the suicide talk, have to let it out....

My grandfather passed on monday, buried him on wed... and was getting over it on thanksgiving... and my dog pete which is 12 was being a little under the weather than normal, decided to take him w/me on the dinnner, ole pete was very cordial to everybody and ate and went outside and vommitted everything up. Well to say the least I was planning on talking pete to the vet on friday, but he decided to pass on me thursday nite when I was asleep. Guys there is nothing worse and trying to wake up dead friend!!

All I can say is SUCIIDE IS FOR PUSSIES, cause guess what my head hearts too, but I am not gonna kill myself!!! It's life and I will move on.....li
 
R

Ronnie

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Sorry for your losses man. I never knew what it was like to have grandparents. All mine were dead before I was born. Everything will get better, just hang in there.
 
gardenweasel

gardenweasel

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sorry...i`ve had to many tonight..i thought this was "ctownguy`s" thread....

just the same,very sorry for your loss countin`..... it`s been a lousy year for me also...i feel your pain...
 
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D

DoubleDown

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Vegas Baby !!
Sorry for your loses. I'm sure that they both knew how much you loved them.

God always gives us the strentgh to cope with hardships.
 
M

MAXSHARP

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Sorry for the loss countinguy. I lost my grandfather and my dog this year also. They passed in a 3 months of each other...
 
MadJack

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sorry for your losses, bro. i'm sure you have a lot of good memories to hang on to so trying thinking of those as much as you can.
 
THE KOD

THE KOD

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sorry for your losing your grandfather and dog
in such a short span count.

I have always had outside dogs which we keep at my shop. My wife got a golden retriever a few years ago and it has stayed in the house with us.

I never thought I could love a dog this much.

She is really special dog to me.

Please get another puppy as soon as you can.
 
THE KOD

THE KOD

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"Beau"
by Jimmy Stewart

He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.

When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.

On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.

He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.

We are early-to-bedders at our house--
I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.

He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
And I'd give him one for a while.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd fish it out with a smile.

And before very long
He'd tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner
In no time at all.

And there were nights when I'd feel him
Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I'd pat his head.

And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh
and I think I know the reason why.

He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.

And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he's not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.
.............................................................
 
Agent 0659

Agent 0659

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Sorry buddy! There may not be 2 greater things on Earth than Grandpas and Dogs.

Sorry for your loss.
 
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A

AR182

Registered User
Forum Member
Nov 9, 2000
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Scott-Atlanta said:
"Beau"
by Jimmy Stewart

He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.

When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.

On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.

He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.

We are early-to-bedders at our house--
I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.

He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
And I'd give him one for a while.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd fish it out with a smile.

And before very long
He'd tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner
In no time at all.

And there were nights when I'd feel him
Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I'd pat his head.

And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh
and I think I know the reason why.

He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.

And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he's not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Beau.
.............................................................
Click to expand...

scott....

saw stewart recite this poem on the johnny carson show...was very moving...
 
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