Wednesday, February 25, 2009


We had some sad news today at the office. The beloved dog of our CEO passed away last night. She lived a full and long life, she was 13 years old, and it was time. I'm so thankful that she passed peacefully, but it's still sad. It's amazing how attached we become to our animals, even when they aren't our own. Sally would come in almost every day with her mom and hang out at the store. She was one of the sweetest and loving dogs I have ever known. Our CEO loved her dog dearly, she was her baby and even though her death was inevidable, it is still hard. Please pray for her as she goes through the grieving of her dear pet. Here's a picture of Sal-Sal, as we called her. We'll miss you girl.

1 Witty Sentiments:

Sarah Jane said...

It is always so hard and sad when a beloved pet passes. :( Here is one of my all-time favorite poems. I memorized it years ago, from a book my Grammie gave me and it still causes me to tear up when I read it!

By Lord Byron:

Near this spot
Are deposited the Remains Of one
who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
and all the virtues of Man without his Vices.
This praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
if inscribed over human Ashes
Is but a just tribute to the Memory of
Who was born at Newfoundland May 1803
And died in Newstead Nov. 18th 1808.

When some proud son of man returns to Earth,
Unknown by Glory, but upheld by Birth,
The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And stories urns record that rests below.
When all is done, upon the Tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been.
But the poor Dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his Master’s own,
Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Deny'd in heaven the Soul he held on earth –
While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.
Oh man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power,
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy tongue hypocrisy, thy heart deceit.
By nature vile, ennoble but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye! who behold perchance this simple urn,
Pass on, it honors none you wish to mourn.
To mark a friend’s remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one – and here he lies.