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Posts Tagged ‘pet loss poem’

Cuddly Pet Memorials

What do you think of the new craze sweeping the pet world – soft and cuddly pet urns?

With up to 70% of all pets being cremated many people are looking for better ways of interring their beloved pet. After all, having your pet in cold hard metal monument seems a little removed.

Patricia Moore lost Samatha the dog and decided to recreate the way we view pet urns.

soft hearted urns

No longer are they cold, hard, and often ugly urns.  Now they are cute, soft and practical.

The idea proved so popular with Patricia’s friends that they managed to persuade her to put  her “Soft-Hearted” pillows into production.And now you too have the option of keeping your pets close to your heart with the huggable urns.

Sleeping with your pets ashes has taken off with the “Soft-Hearted” brand of pillow.  The pillows are made from soft microfibre which are guaranteed to keep the ashes locked safely inside.

The pillows are able to accommodate the ashes of a pet of up to 150 pounds.  However, with larger animals some pet-lovers opt to just keep a portion of the pets remains in the pillow in order to minimize the Soft-Hearted pillow’s weight.

You can expect the pillow to feel soft, although it will have a firm “heart” that you may or may not feel depending on the size of your pet. The pillow itself is about 4 inches thick and 14 inches square.

So what do you think of the cuddly pet urns?

Are you in favour of keeping your pet much closer to your heart after it passes, or do you think this is just another crazy fad (one that the majority of pet lovers seem to be opting for) ?

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THE PASSING OF A DOG

This kindly friend of mine who’s passed
Beyond the realm of day,
Beyond the realm of darkling night,
To unknown bourne away
Was one who deemed my humble home
A palace grand and fair;
Whose fullest joy it was to find
His comrade ever there.
Ah! He has gone from out my life
Like some dear dream I knew.
A man may own a hundred dogs,
But one he loves, and true.

Anonymous.

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MUSIC, WHEN SOFT VOICES DIE

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory.
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

Percy Bysshe Shelley.

 

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When We Two Parted: By Lord Byron

When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted,

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this!

The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow;

It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.

The vows are all broken,

And light is thy fame:

I hear thy name spoken

And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o’er me –

Why wert thou so dear?

They know not I knew thee

Who knew thee too well:

Long, long shall I rue thee

Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met:

In silence I grieve

That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee? –

With silence and tears.

Pet Blogs - BlogCatalog Blog Directory

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The rainbow comes and goes,

And lovely is the rose;

The moon doth with delight

Look round her when the heavens are bare;

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair;

The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But yet I know, where’er I go,

That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

Then, sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!

And let the young lambs bound

As to the tabor’s sound!

We, in thought, will join your throng,

Ye that pipe and ye that play,

Ye that through your hearts to-day

feel the gladness of the May!

What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

Extract from
Ode On Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood: By William Wordsworth

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SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove;
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.

A violet by a mossy stone
Half-hidden from the eye;

Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and oh
The difference to me!

William Wordsworth

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DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE AND WEEP

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

Mary Elizabeth Frye (1904-2004)

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