A couple of weeks ago my grandparents had to make the incredibly difficult decision to have their dog Nessie put down. She meant a lot to me, being the closest thing to a pet I've had in my adolescent/adult life. She was one of the big reasons I looked forward to visiting my grandparents. She lit up their home and brightened the day of anyone she met.

I'm incredibly grateful that she did not suffer very long and that she lived a life that was full of love, even if it was a little bit shorter than I would have liked. I'm also happy that I was able to visit her one last time before she began her health slide.

Nessie was one of the best doggies I've ever met, and I'll never forget how much she meant to me.

[img]http://i.imgur.com/u0VvRpH.jpg?1[/img][img]http://i.imgur.com/Whj1t5M.jpg?1[/img]

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Nessie
2004-2015


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
Boatswain, a Dog
who was born in Newfoundland May 1803
and died at Newstead Nov. 18th, 1808


When some proud Son of Man returns to Earth,
Unknown to Glory, but upheld by Birth,
The sculptor???s art exhausts the pomp of woe,
And storied urns record who 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 labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonoured falls, unnoticed all his worth,
Denied 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, ennobled but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye, who behold perchance this simple urn,
Pass on ??? it honours none you wish to mourn.
To mark a friend???s remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one -- and here he lies.

~Lord Byron, Epitaph to a Dog