Maltese Memories is a tribute to our beloved pets who wait for us at the rainbow bridge.
Many of us who work with Atlantic Maltese Rescue have loved and lost a beloved Maltese Member of our family. In several cases these beloved pets, who are waiting for us on the rainbow bridge, were our inspiration to get involved in rescue work. We felt it was fitting to give them a special tribute on our site.
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"Perhaps success in a dog's world is measured by those they leave who mourn their deaths so profoundly." |
Now I Must Go |
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Weep Not For Me Weep not for me
though I am gone into the gentle night. |
May 1986-January 7, 1997
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April 21, 1987 - November 13, 1999
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The Last Will & Testament of an Extremely Loved Dog I, Silverdene Emblem O'Neill (familiarly known to my family, friends acquaintances as Blemie), because the burden of my years and infirmities is heavy upon me, and I realize the end of my life is near, do hereby bury my last will and testament in the mind of my Master. He will not know it is there until after I am dead. Then, remembering me in his loneliness, he will suddenly know of this testament, and I ask him to inscribe it as a memorial to me. I have little in the way of material things to leave. Dogs are wiser than men. They do not set great store upon things. They do not waste their days hoarding property. They do not ruin their sleep worrying about how to keep the objects they have, and to obtain objects they have not. There is nothing of value I have to bequeath except my love and my loyalty. These I leave to all those who have loved me, especially to my Master and Mistress, who I know will mourn me the most. I ask my Master and my Mistress to remember me always, but not to grieve for me too long. In my life, I have tried to be a comfort to them in time of sorrow, and a reason for added joy in their happiness. It is painful for me to think that even in death I should cause them pain. Let them remember that while no dog has ever had a happier life (and this I owe to their love and care for me), now that I have grown blind and deaf and lame, and even my sense of smell fails me so that a rabbit could be right under my nose and I might not know, my pride has sunk to a sick, bewildered humiliation. I feel life is taunting me with having overlingered my welcome. It is time I said good-bye, before I become too sick a burden on myself and on those who love me. It will be a sorrow to leave them, but not a sorrow to die. Dogs do not fear death as men do. We accept it as part of life, not as something alien and terrible which destroys life. What may come after death, who knows? I would like to believe that there is a Paradise. Where one is always young and full-bladdered. Where all the day one dillies and dallies. Where each blissful hour is mealtime. Where in the long evenings there are a million fireplaces with logs forever burning, and one curls oneself up and blinks into the flames and nods and dreams, remembering the old brave days on earth and the love of one's Master and Mistress. I am afraid that this is too much for even such a dog as I am to expect. But peace, at least, is certain. Peace and a long rest for my weary old heart and head and limbs, and eternal sleep in the earth I have loved so well. Perhaps, after all, this is best. One last request, I earnestly make. I have heard my Mistress say, "When Blemie dies we must never have another dog. I love him so much I could never love another one". Now I would ask her, for love of me, to have another. It would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again. What I would like to feel is that, having once had me in the family, she cannot live without a dog! I have never had a narrow, jealous spirit. I have always held that most dogs are good. My successor can hardly be as well loved or as well mannered or as distinguished and handsome as I was in my prime. My Master and Mistress must not ask the impossible. But he will do his best, I am sure, and even his inevitable defects will help by comparison to keep my memory green. To him I bequeath my collar and leash and my overcoat and raincoat He can never wear them with the distinction I did, all eyes fixed on me in admiration; but again I am sure he will do his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial dog. I hereby wish him the happiness I know will be his in my old home. One last word of farewell, dear Master and Mistress. Whenever you visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my long, happy life with you: "Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved". No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail. I will always love you as only a dog can." by Eugene O'Neill |
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November 5, 1998-July 9, 1999 |
Things We Can Learn from Our Dogs Never pass up the chance for a joy ride. Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy. When loved ones come home, always run to greet them. Take naps and stretch before rising. Run, romp and play daily. Be loyal. Never pretend to be something you are not. If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it. When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently. Avoid biting when a simple growl will do. When you are happy, dance around and wag your whole body. No matter how often you're scolded, don't buy into the guilt thing, run back and make friends. Delight in the simple joy of a long walk. |
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In Honor of Spencer, whose life on Earth was far too short, but whose star shines brightly every day for us and helps to guide us along the way. Thanks, Spencer, for teaching us so much in so short a time. |
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January 1988-December 25, 1999 |
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In remembrance of our Clancy-girl who went to the rainbow bridge on Christmas Day. In her time on earth she gave us the most special gifts: her sweet kisses, her trust, and her love. She is truly our little angel now. |
