Kerry Loss Poems

A Loan From God

Author unknown

God promised at the birth of time,

A special friend to give,

His time on earth is short, he said,

So love him while he lives.

It may be six or seven years,

Or twelve or then sixteen,

But will you, till I call him back,

Take care of him for me?

A wagging tail and cold wet nose,

And silken velvet ears,

A heart as big as all outdoors,

To love you through the years.

His puppy ways will gladden you,

And antics bring a smile,

As guardian or friend he will,

Be loyal all the while.

He’ll bring his charms to grace your life,

And though his stay be brief,

When he’s gone the memories,

Are solace for your grief.

I cannot promise he will stay,

Since all from earth return,

But lessons only a dog can teach,

I want you each to learn.

Whatever love you give to him,

Returns in triple measure,

Follow his lead and gain a life,

Brim full of simple pleasure.

Enjoy each day as it comes,

Allow your heart to guide,

Be loyal and steadfast in love,

As the dog there by your side.

Now will you give him all your love,

Nor think the labor vain,

Nor hate me when I come to call,

To take him back again?

I fancy each of us would say,

“Dear Lord, thy will be done,

For all the joy this dog shall bring,

The risk of grief we’ll run.

“We’ll shelter him with tenderness,

We’ll love him while we may,

And for the happiness we’ve known,

Forever grateful stay.

“But shall the angels call for him,

Much sooner than we’ve planned,

We’ll brave the bitter grief that comes,

And try to understand.”


by Jimmy Stewart, submitted by Tracey Fulmer

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.

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’d 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.

Heaven’s Doggy Door

Author Unknown
Submitted by Maryanne Schaefer

My best friend closed his eyes last night,

As his head lay in my hand.

The doctors said he was in pain,

And it was hard for him to stand.

The thoughts that scurried through my head,

As I cradled him in my arms,

Were of his younger kerry years,

And Oh… his many charms.

Today there was no gentle nudge,

With an intense “I love you” gaze.

Only a heart that’s filled with tears,

Remembering our joy-filled days.

But an Angel just appeared to me,

And said, “You should cry no more,

God also loves our canine friends,

He’s installed a doggy door!”

A Kerry’s Soul

Author Unknown
Submitted by Larry White

Every Kerry must have a soul, somewhere deep inside

Where all the hurts and grievances are buried with his pride

Where he decides the good and bad, the wrong from the right

And where his judgment carefully hidden from our sight.

A Kerry must have a secret place where every thought abides,

A sort of close acquaintance that he trusts and confides

And when accused unjustly, for himself he cannot speak,

Rebuked, he finds within his soul the comfort he must seek.

He will live tho’he is unloved and serve tho’badly used

And one kind word will wipe away the times when he’s been abused

Altho his heart may break in two his love will still be whole

Because god gave to every Kerry an understanding soul.

Dinah in Heaven
The Woman in His Life

by Rudyard Kipling

She did not know that she was dead,

But, when the pang was o’er,

Sat down to wait her Master’s tread

Upon the Golden Floor,

With ears full-cock and anxious eyes,

Impatiently resigned;

But ignorant that Paradise

Did not admit her kind.

Persons with Haloes, Harps, and Wings

Assembled and reproved;

Or talked to her of Heavenly things,

But Dinah never moved.

There was one step along the Stair

That led to Heaven’s Gate;

And, till she heard it, her affair,

Was–she explained–to wait.

And she explained with flattened ear,

Bared lip and milky tooth —

Storming against Ithuriel’s Spear

That only proved her truth!

Sudden–far down the Bridge of Ghosts

That anxious spirits clomb–

She caught that step in all the hosts,

And knew that he had come.

She left them wondering what to do,

But not a doubt had she.

Swifter than her own squeal she flew

Across the Glassy Sea;

Flushing the Cherubs everywhere,

And skidding as she ran,

She refuged under Peter’s Chair

And waited for her man.

There spoke a Spirit out of the press,

Said: “Have you any here

That saved a fool from drunkeness,

And a coward from his fear?

“That turned a soul from dark to day

When other help was vain;

That snatched it from Wanhope and made

A cur a man again?”

“Enter and look,” said Peter then,

And set The Gate ajar.

“If I know aught of women and men

I trow she is not far.”

“Neither by virtue, speech nor art

Nor hope of grace to win;

But godless innocence of heart

That never heard of sin:

Neither by beauty nor belief

Nor white example shown.

Something a wanton–more a thief–

But–most of all–mine own.”

“Enter and look,” said Peter then,

“And send you well to speed;

But, for all that I know of women and men

Your riddle is hard to read.”

Then flew Dinah from under the Chair,

Into his arms she flew–

And licked his face from chin to hair

And Peter passed them through!

The Power of the Dog

by Rudyard Kipling, submitted by Anne Corke

There is sorrow enough in the natural way

From men and women to fill our day;

And when we are certain of sorrow in store,

Why do we always arrange for more?

Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware

Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy

Love unflinching that cannot lie– Perfect passsion and worship fed

By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.

Nevertheless it is hardly fair

To risk your heart to a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits

Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,

And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs

To lethal chambers or loaded guns,

Then you will find–it’s your own affair– But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,

With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)

When the spirit that answered your every mood

Is gone–wherever it goes–for good,

You will discover how much you care,

And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,

When it comes to burying Christian clay.

Our loves are not given, but only lent,

At compound interest of cent per cent.

Though it is not always the case, I believe,

That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:

For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,

A short-term loan is as bad as a long– So why in–Heaven (before we are there)

Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

A Member of the Family

Author unknown, submitted by Chelo Lewter

What would I do without you?

My precious, furry friend?

Part mischief, but all blessings,

And faithful to the end.

You look at me with eyes of love,

You never hold a grudge,

You think I’m far too wonderful,

To criticize or judge.

It seems your greatest joy in life

is being close to me…

I think God knew how comforting

your warm, soft fur would be.

I know you think you’re human,

but I’m glad it isn’t true…

The world would be a nicer place

if folks were more like you!

A few short years are all we have,

one day we’ll have to part…

But you my pet, will always have

a place within my heart.

My Dog and His Love

Author unknown, submitted by Chelo Lewter

He’s with me 24 hours a day,

And never a word is able to say,

But he can say more with a look or two,

Such as I Love You, My Whole World Is You!

As I do my chores throughout the day,

He’s by my side, every step of the way.

When I stop to eat, you can bet he’s there,

Sitting of course, in his favorite chair.

And if some night I decide to go out,

He’ll hang his head, and kinda pout.

He sits by the window, until I come home.

Waiting for me; chewing on his bone.

Sits there and waits so patiently,

Hoping to catch a glimpse of me.

Can’t wait till I put the key in the door,

He’s barking and jumping and barking some more.

Then as I lay me down to sleep,

He’s there by my side, his vigil to keep.

And I thank the Lord, in the Heaven above,

For My Best Friend, my dog and his love!

by P. Whelan (1982), submitted by Diane Ridd

Come friends of mine the night is cold, draw close around the around the fire,

And listen while I tell a tale of Faith, Hope and Desire.

`Tis more than eighteen years ago my Irish Wolfhound passed,

A noble gallant loving friend, poor Peggy breathed her last.

When she was gone the home seemed wrong, somehow sad and drear,

We must soon replace our dear old pal the fact is very clear.

Returning home one evening more leisurely of late,

I had now no dog to welcome me down at the garden gate.

But when at length I entered home what joy there met my view,

Upon the rug before the fire a baby Kerry Blue.

To say a lump came to my throat or tears welled in my eyes,

Is just a mild expression of my joyous sweet surprise.

I nursed and loved and cherished her, spoiled her some may say,

But I`ll ne`er regret how I loved my pet until her dying day.

The joy she gave from birth to grave was far beyond compare,

No wealth no honour could replace the friendship fostered there.

She gave us Dainty Dinah, the Queen of all her race,

How proud was Paddy`s darling when Dinah won her place.

Then Dinah`s sons and daughters have added to her fame,

So keeping bright in memories sight dear Paddy`s darling`s name.

Dear friends the moral that is written here is that success is very dear,

But Oh! my friends whether you rise or fall the love of you`re dear Kerry pays for all.

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