This page is dedicated to all the dogs of our lives. Those dogs that have enriched our lives and that wait for us on the Rainbow Bridge...

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... Author unknown.

Gem My heart is still in pieces..one huge dog print in the middle of it. I so clearly remember the night I found Gem was coming into my life; we were out fishing, on the Walnut River, when Greg, Gem’s breeder, announced to the group that I had a female Border Collie pup coming. No, No, I said, I’m not ready for a new dog; I had too many as it was! And so, Gem entered my life, and of course, my heart, my soul. Bit, her mother, died when the pups were only not quite two weeks old, of a ruptured lung abscess, caused by a grass awn; Gem came to me then. I was introduced to the world of working stock dogs in a huge way; Gem turned on to sheep at a mere six months of age, and I became hooked. Hooked on the breed, the ease of working sheep with a good dog, and I learned so much. And each day, became closer and closer to this little waspy, opinionated dog of mine. I learned I had basically no clue how to work livestock, although I thought I did. I learned to read pressure, and I learned the toughest job of all, to trust my dog. I was privileged to work with some of the best stock dog handlers in the Nation, and drug around by my shirt collar to my correct spot more than once. I learned, sorta, to get tough with this little opinionated dog, and to make her do it my way…although, many times, she was right, and I was, as she thought, wrong. For over 15 years, this dog and I were seldom separated; she opened my life to hundreds of friends and causes. We trialed, we won some, we placed some, we lost a lot, but we had a grand time together! Some of the memories of various trials bring laughter, some joy, and some tears; but all of them are great. She was my friend, my workmate, my left leg, and my right arm. My co-pilot in the truck, and very much the fun police with the rest of the dogs here. She was, as I was told, very much a hard dog for a first time handler, and although I considered placing her with someone with more experience, I’ve never regretted the decision not to. Well, except the “what might have been”s for her sake…because she had way more talent than I do, and deserved better. She’s gone now; and buried underneath a baby Cottonwood tree, that when I planted it, told her she would have to wait to leave me, until the tree had grown. Gem, as always, was impatient to get to her next flock, and couldn’t wait that long. Thanks to Greg, Geanna, Kevin, Bill, Chuck, Kathy, Jack, to all of you who helped me learn with her. And who will help me in the future, with other dogs GodSpeed, Gem.

Jenny We decided to get our first dog together –a Border collie named McGuffin. After poring over books we were determined this dog would be perfectly trained-and he was the perfect dog. He learned to help me with the laundry, put my shoes away, get the paper etc. He existed without a fence as he totally respected the boundaries of our yard even stopping on a dime in mid-chase of a trespassing dog. He was an incredibly smart dog and we had many visitors who simply came to meet McGuffin having heard about him. Thinking we had discovered the secrets of dog training we got another Border collie when McGuffin was around seven. We were very wrong. Jenny was a very different story. She considered our obedience training as merely suggestions to consider and had an interesting form of deafness that manifested itself only when my voice became too loud or too firm. She also perfected what I called the “Gandhi move.” Whenever she deemed passive resistance the best strategy she would go limp. This coupled with her “deafness” pretty much completed our training (as opposed to hers) and Jenny ruled us and all others she met with good humor, joy and boundless affection. Jenny was not a typical Border collie. Her reaction to meeting a herd of goats was to stand in front of them bouncing up and down waiting for one to throw a ball. When enlisted to stand at the back of a pen to make the exercise of another dog practicing driving sheep into a pen more challenging-Jenny spotted a Ewe with a wound on her nose. Jenny left her post and began licking the wound. Although this was a bit of an embarrassment to her breeder it was totally consistent with Jenny’s chosen life’s work as a therapy dog and a nurse. Jenny was also a bit of a politician and was always most interested in adding more constituents so she would pay the most attention to new people and animals being assured of the loyalty of the old admirers. Jenny often went to work with me when I worked at a psychiatric day program serving as our activity therapist and relief psychotherapist. Her techniques were simple. She would arrive in the first group in the morning and greet everyone. Then she would identify who was the least happy person that day. She would assign herself to that person and would not leave their side until that person’s mood had improved to her satisfaction. Usually, her ministrations were welcomed and appreciated. But some didn’t want to let go of their negative moods and found her irritating. Jenny was undaunted. She would cheerfully persist until they relented and “got happy.” She would take a brief break from her duties to retrieve the mail bag each morning then it was back to work. Jenny was also available for private duty work. After I had had a couple of surgeries Jenny assigned herself to me and stayed on the bed reluctantly leaving to eat and go outside until I was well. She would bring me items she could safely carry like the mail and the paper and then back to the bottom of the bed. Jenny herself became very ill one night. I had come downstairs to check on her as a terrible storm was going on. I had put her in the laundry room as she had thrown up that evening. A quick trip to the vet and some antibiotics seemed to make things better but to be on the safe side I thought her kennel would be the best option. I found her almost comatose surrounded by pools of blood. We raced to the emergency clinic and her white blood cell count was astronomical. Antibiotics and IVs were administered but her prognosis wasn’t good. She had Septicemia. Infection was raging through her body affecting all of her organs. But she did make it through night and we transported her to our regular vet clinic where they kept her through the day and then back to the emergency clinic at night. She wouldn’t eat so she began coming home at night where I would feed her with an eye dropper and watch her all night. She lost a third of her weight and again almost died at the vet clinic one night. Finally the crisis passed but the raging infection had created other problems. She developed an ulcer and had surgery for that. She also latter developed huge lumps on the outside of her body which abscessed and her entire midsection were shaved. Then she seemed to have neurological problems, staggering and running into the wall. After much diagnostic work (including a test done in the “human” hospital”) a liver shunt was identified. The toxins in her body weren’t being filtered through her liver but instead were going to her brain from this blood vessel and she had encephalopathy of the brain. Once again she went to surgery and a metal clamp was put on the vessel to cause it to slowly shrink. Her chances of survival once again weren’t good. After three days in intensive care it was decided she would do better at home. And she healed sleeping by me at night, accepting the four shots a day and the special nutrition I hand feed her. Through out this ordeal her sweet and accepting nature never wavered. She became a favorite at the vet’s office and even more precious to me. It took close to a year but she healed and resumed her duties as nurse, therapist and chief morale officer to anyone who was lucky enough to be part of her world. And she taught me that expecting the best from people and the world could result in the best happening. This was a lesson I sorely needed and always will. A short two years latter we lost McGuffin to the infirmities of old age and I held him as we let him go soon before his fourteenth birthday. Jenny had let us know the time had come. She lay beside McGuffin with her paw across his then walked to me looking earnestly into my eyes. He went to the vet that day and none of us not even our vet of many years questioned Jenny’s wisdom. The man and I could no longer stay together and I agreed to let Jenny go with him knowing her life would be the quieter more predictable life that would be the best for our now 14 year old girl. As a finale act of anger that seems to accompany too many of these endings he refused to allow me to see Jenny again. So I said goodbye to this wonderful girl knowing the space in my heart for her would never be replaced no matter how many dogs followed her. Two years latter I received a kind call from our vet letting me know that Jenny was gone. I look back on my life to this point where 60 isn’t so far away I think of the people and happenings that have led me to where I am now and that have helped forge what I believe and where my path leads, Jenny has played no small part. And so I say goodbye to her for the second time. I feel so lucky to have had her in my life. I feel lucky not only that she was part of my family for so long but that I had the honor to be the caretaker of this compassionate, sweet and delightful little Border collie that brought joy and healing to so many.

Danny Bear When we went looking for a dog, we didn’t realize we would find an angel on earth. Our Danny Bear was a rescued stray. He came to us about 6 years ago. The vet thought he might be around 7 or 8 years old. He was skittish and shy from being abused. The tip of one ear missing. The tip of his tail was gone. He had a bee bee behind his right shoulder blade. He was recovering from heart worms and he had arthritis. He was also going blind. Quite a catch wouldn’t you say? But he was the most beautiful animal, inside and out, I had ever known. He gave us years of love and devotion. We knew he might not be with us very long but we wanted to give this baby all the love and attention we could. He slowly came around. When we first got him, he would only eat off of the ground. Obviously beaten for eating off of a plate or dish. But we got him to finally eat out of a bowl on his own place mat. Our Danny Bear left us on August 24th, 2007. He was so ill. Having him put out of his misery was the hardest decision I have ever had to make. But I know it was the right one. I will meet you at the Rainbow Bridge my friend. Debbie Clark

Lucky Lucky was a stray from rural Missouri that was within hours of being euthanized when a Border collie lover, Aaron, stepped in and saved him. He was a gentle guy with eyes so solem and sad until he realized there was hope and love in his life from his new foster family! Unfortunately, Lucky was diagnosed with Heartworms and had complications during treatement. He was fortunate to know love and kindness from his foster family.

Fynnegan One year and 5 months is all I got with this wonderful Border Collie....he made me laugh and had such a wonderful sense of humor. He was the instigator of all things fun and loud. He loved to play. He was my second "rescue" and gave this household the surprise of a lifetime by impregnating Boo (who we thought was spayed). From that union came four, gorgeous puppies..two girls and two boys...Sophie, Izzy, Jack and Edgar. All but one puppy is in a new home, with Edgar still here with me. He will be moving to Overland Park, soon, with my son, Ted. So, he goes on. Just as it was to put his front paws around my neck and give me kisses. Everyday. My 45 pound lapdog. I will miss him forever. Annie Kuether Annie and Fynn--Adoption Day! April 2005 Fynnegan 2006 Fynn April 2005

For Trace.... In the short time we knew you, you learned to trust, and to love...to visit our sides for attention, and that your food bowl would once again, have food in it. That houses were pretty good places to live in, and that computers were really cool to watch. You discovered what you were bred to do, and loved it. Although our dance together was much to short, I treasure the memories of it. What might have been, my friend Trace. GodSpeed. August 2005

Talon She was the light of my life for 13 years. It was not long enough. She was born on my Dad's 60th birthday. They both had an impact on so many lives...maybe they are together now. She brightened every life she touched. Her sparkle could light up a dark room and bring sunshine to a rainy day. She was the closest thing to perfection I have ever known. I would be just like her, if only I could. Talon lost a short battle with cancer on Sun. Jan. 12th. Her passing was peaceful and in a manner that she deserved. She did not linger. They say she did not suffer. Alan and I stepped in to see to that. Our hearts are torn in half. There is a chill in the house that announces her absence. Even with the activity of our other two dogs, the stillness is deafening... Rest in peace little Sweetie-Bug. We miss you. We love you. Joni Wynsota Wild Again UDT " Talon" Jan. 8, 1990 - Jan 12, 2003