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My sweet girl Jazz has crossed the bridge.


If I squint my eyes and look softly I can still see her there on her pillow, with a food bowl right close. I see her in the bathroom, waiting for her morning scritch and a kiss from both me and her sister Raven. Dew waits at the door for her potty buddy, no one can chase the boogies away from the dark that haunts Dew.


I eat something and walk around with a tidbit in my hand looking for her cause no one was allowed to eat a thing without tossing her a tiny bite.


I come in the door and listen for her quiet woofs of hello, is it dinner time.


I work at the kitchen table and can almost see her right there at my feet, making sure I know what time it is and to take doggy breaks when we need them.


My best friend, my first border collie. It was she that got me into sheep, herding, frisbee, rollerblading and all the things a border collie does for you. She gave me her heart, I gave her mine.


She will be so missed. Tears will be long to dry.


Run Free my sweet MayMay. Hold a spot for me and we will meet someday. I know your grass is green again, your legs are steady, and your pain is gone. Balls are at your feet and your body can do all it wants again. Play and enjoy green pastures. All those you touched with your heart are better dogs and people after meeting you.


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I am so sorry to hear about Jazz. They leave us too soon...


We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavorous bone, or lifted his head to challenge some intruder. These are good places in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else. For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked, and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture lane where most exhilarating cattle graze, it is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, nothing is lost, if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.


If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, he will come to you when you call - come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death and down the well remembered path and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they shall not growl at him, or resent his coming, for he is yours and belongs there. People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing. The one best place to bury a good dog is the heart of his master.


Run free Jazz...run free

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For people like us, there is no such thing as "just a dog". They are so much more than that phrase conveys. They are family. They embody devotion, forgiveness, loyalty, companionship. They love us no matter what, no matter who we are, what we look like, if we are right or wrong, if we are rich or poor, if we are famous or infamous, if we are having a good day or a bad day.


Just a dog? That's what some people would say. We'd say, "Just a piece of my heart and my life in a furry coat."


We all feel for you.

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I'm so sorry, Kristen. They leave such a big hole in our heart and soul when they go; a hole that nothing and no other dog can fill. Each one is special in their own way and that is why we love them, and why we grieve so when they're gone. Keeping you in my thoughts.



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I'm just now seeing this. I'm so sorry Kristen. Words can't really take away the pain of your loss, but know that we grieve with you, because we all will surely walk the same path sooner or later. Run free Jazz: I know you'll be waiting for your mom and your pack and someday you'll all be together again.



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