When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to the 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 the Rainbow Bridge together. . .

- Author Unknown

If you would like to make a memorial donation, please donate using the button below and send a message to info@themosbyfoundation.org with your memorial message. If you would like, feel free to attach a photo.

Memorials - Winter 2012

Memorials - Summer 2011

IN MEMORY OF PETS:

SOPHIE, from Janice Ballinger.

PAX & CODY, from John & Judy Turner.

TUXIE AVERY, from William & Mary Penn-Soranno.

TUXIE AVERY, Willow Pond's Tuxedo Cowboy, from Dennis & Anne Avery.

JARLEY, beloved companion of Bill & Beverly Faulkenberry, from Bob Johnson.

JARLEY, a wonderful sweet rescued Border Collie mix who lived a great life with Bill & Beverly Faulkenberry. “Blessed is the person who has earned the love of an old dog. ~Sidney Jeanne Seward” The Faulkenberry's have earned the love of many an old rescued dog....they are truly blessed. Godspeed Jarley, love Carole & Johnny Adams.

JARLEY, from Bill & Beverly Faulkenberry.

LEROY PFEFFER, from Jennifer Lee.

AMANDA ROSE JOHNSON, you are always in my heart. Love Jan Johnson.

AMANDA ROSE JOHNSON, love Alice Mae Johnson.

GINGER, TAFFY, TERRY, BUFFY, MITZI & MINDY, all of my special dogs who each gave me many years of happiness. Love Alice Mae Johnson.

MOSBY ADAMS, from Lois Pitts.

MOSBY ADAMS, love Jan Johnson.

SIMBA, from Donald Wright.

FRECKLES, my Springer Spaniel, with loving memories; from Dreama Bryant.

YELLER ROEDER, from Sheila & Ray Roeder.

McKENZIE, rescued Golden Retriever of Bob Holtmann & Christine Worontzoff, who died on 5.31.11, from Kim & Vinnie Paladino.

BOUDREAUX CUSHMAN, from Lynne Gilbert.

JEMIMA & GEORGE, beloved poodles, from Jane Cangalosi.

Our loving LOUIE, from Nancy True MacWelch.

UNCOW, the cat that thought she was a dog, from Karyn Doane

SMOKEY the cat, from Allison Fontana.

THE DOGS WHO DIDN'T RETURN FROM VIETNAM, from Susan Horne.

PEACHES, from Nancy Burton.

YOGI, passed away 5-28-11, from Jane Garver.

MAGGIE MAE, beloved dog of Juana Barnhart who crossed the Rainbow Bridge on 7/5/11, from Linda Link.

IVORY, from Amy Smitherman.

MACKENZIE, from Louise & Robert Harris.

OPIE ALPHONSO, he has my heart, from Fay Tyler.

IN HONOR OF PETS:

HERSHEY, our new kitty, from Jim & Barbara Bradley.

BARBIE & BILLY BLALOCK, from Warren Hirst.

KIT CAT, from Loretta Kedzrierski.

HAMILTON, a big black inside cat; from Bobbi Harmon.

ALL THE ANIMALS who need love and help, from Erin Armentrout.

IN MEMORY OF PEOPLE:

ELLEN BOND SCHAFFER, from Michael J. Schaffer.

IN HONOR OF PEOPLE:

JIM HELMS, Happy Birthday! From Johnny & Kathy Mason.

BRENDA & GARY MURRAY, Happy Birthday to both of you from the Malamutes who always benefit from your kindness and generosity.

LAUREN McENIRY, a dog-gone good dog person! From Angela Brown.

TED KERASOTE, from John & Carol Warren.

MARIA RAMBO, from Chey Larson.

DR. JERRY SHANKS, LEIGH ANDERSON, THE VOLUNTEERS OF ROAD TO RECOVERY, from Karen Van Es.

LEIGH ANDERSON OF AUGUSTA HEALTH CENTER, from Jeanne Russell.

LEIGH ANDERSON, from Home Instead Senior Care.

DR. KATHRYN DOBYNS, MIDDLE RIVER VET HOSPITAL, from Connie Richardson.

ALL MEMBERS & VOLUNTEERS OF THE MOSBY FOUNDATION for the caring work that you do. You are the BEST! From Nancy Wadley.

Memorials - Summer 2011

IN MEMORY OF PETS:

BEAR, beloved family member, loving, loyal patient dog of Ray Sellers & Heather Conrad from PG & GW Patterson.

SOPHIE from Janice Ballinger.

MAX BRIGMAN-GUIN from Laura Johnson.

Melissa Hepler's 9 FURRY & FEATHERY FRIENDS who gave her joy, love & companionship before they went to the Rainbow Bridge in December 2010, from Barbara Amatucci.

BAYLY & ROONEY from Bob & LaVerne Parrott.

BENTLY GERMAN from TenderCare Veterinary Center & Staff.

EDGAR, beloved dog and loving companion of Ella Eavers for 16 years from Guy & Judy Eavers.

TASHA from Karyn Doane.

SNOW RICCI, Wendy's beloved cat who crossed the Rainbow Bridge on 1-22-11, from Diane Dodds.

MAGGIE, Dian & Cecil Thompson's pretty Rottie girl, from Happy Tails.

SABLE, our sweet Dalmatian, you arrived at our house five years ago, a scared and confused girl, unsure of yourself and desperately wanting attention and love. You blossomed into a loving and loyal girl who became a wonderful part of the family. We miss you everyday. Melisa Miller Piselli and family.

MOSBY from Lois Pitts.

CHASE from Chey Larson.

RING, DUSTY & HOBY, our old pack, from Peyton & Carol Coyner.

MASON, beloved dog of Derek Hutchin and Ashley Garza from Beverly Faulkenberry.

BART & K.C. from Susan & John Browning.

RACHAEL, my beloved Lab and best friend from Virginia Ward.

GRIFFIN REED, a much loved Goldendoodle, from Adam & Kristen Printy.

CHRISTEN PRYCE, a beautiful Lab, from Janette Boyd Martin.

VINCE, a sweet, beautiful & gentle Malamute, from Ted, Erica and Coffee Stoecker.

SOPHIE, a sweet former Mosby Calendar dog in 2008 & 2009, from Connie Spitler.

WEASIE, Christine Worontzoff & Bob Holtmann's new angel – she is running with Sophia & Molson now. From Karin & Andy Blay.

MADDIE MARIE, my sweet angel! From Linette Lancaster.

SADIE, HERKY, GINGERBREAD, & LAMB CHOP, from Joan Young.

BUDDY COVARRUBIAS, from Bob & Diane Boiler.

YELLER from Sheila & Ray Roeder.

RASCAL MILLER from Anne Avery.

HANK, they just don't live long enough for us. May Hank rest in peace with Mosby, Taz, and all the others we have loved and lost. Love, Susan Aronson & Neili.

HANK, beloved dog of Carole & Johnny Adams. One of the sweetest German Shepherd's ever, from Beverly & Bill Faulkenberry.

HANK, Carole & Johnny's sweet lovable Shepherd, from Carol Jackson.

HANK, who passed 3-8-11. You will never be gone because you will live forever in our hearts. Love, Carole & Johnny Adams. You were born a dog; you died a gentleman.

HANK, He was a very special dog with a gentle soul. His spirit will live on with you and all the people who knew him. He was a stoic boy who never complained, even as his body wore out. You made the right decision to give him a quiet and dignified end. Love, Kathryn Dobyns.

HANK, who was such a wonderful guy!! From Tina-Marie Cavaco.

HANK was a very special boy as was so obvious. Please use this to further your cause in his memory. My heart aches for you. Love, Mollie McCurdy.

HANK from Angela Brown.

SAMMIE, our little 16 pound blind rescue that died unexpectedly, you were a true inspiration. We love and miss you little man, Sam. You will always be with us. Love, Carole & Johnny Adams.

SAMMIE, whose life began when rescued by Carole & Johnny Adams, from Beverly & Bill Faulkenberry.

SAMMIE, beloved little blind dog of Carole & Johnny Adams, from Mollie McCurdy.

ALEX, BITTY, SAM, MAGGIE & VIRGINIA , from Mary Beth Malik.

ZACK ARMSTRONG from Deb Armstrong.

PAYTON DENNISON from Jan Johnson.

HANNAH, Bill & Beverly Faulkenberry's beloved Hannah from Carol Jackson.

TEDDY HOTTINGER from Baxter & Pamela Hottinger.

BRANDI, our Boxer, who passed 3/12/2010 from Judy See.

ASHLEY & WILLOW, beloved cats, from Barbara & Jim Bradley.

SILAS, a beloved dog, 2000 – 2011 from Polly Sack.

PARRISH, a beloved dog, 1996 -2011, from Polly Sack.

McHALE, a beloved cat, 2000 – 2011, from Polly Sack.

MACY HEBERLE, my sister Arlene's loved beagle that died March 22, 2011, from Audrey Hutchison.

ZOEY, my loving Shepherd/Lab mix! From Ann Zimmer.

ALL THE BELOVED DOGS waiting for us to join them again, from Emily Trapnell & Lee Ensley.

LUCKY DOG, beloved pet of Pat Harrington, from Julie Cook.

KIERAN, my sweet kitty boy, from Sharon Angle.

SIERRA, beloved Mal of Susan Ay and her husband Michael Bowers from Angela Brown.

MOSBY, my dog who died Feb 18, 2011. This money had been set aside for any care he may have needed. He didn't need any and I'm sure he would like to donate to you. Thanks, John Perlman.

DAISY, our smart, lovable Basset Hound from Sharon & Mike Morris.

XENA from Matt & Faison Dana.

LAYLA, our sweet, pretty and patient girl. You were found by a kind animal control officer in your twilight years wandering around the streets in rural WV, a victim of an unpleasant divorce. We only had you for a few short years, but you loved life, your tennis balls, and had such a gentle way about you. The house is very empty without you and we hope you are now restored to health and chasing a bounty of endless tennis balls. Love, The Piselli Family.

IN HONOR OF PETS:

BOOKER FEE from Rebecca Hibbard.

SLIM DOSWELL from Rebecca Hibbard.

BOONE SMITH from Rebecca Hibbard.

BENNY SCHWENINGER from Rebecca Hibbard.

CANDY GOLDER from Rebecca Hibbard.

SQUEAK THE BEAGLE and STELLADOG from Rebecca Hibbard.

ROCK from Chey Larson.

BO & AMBER from Mary Beth Malik.

IN MEMORY OF PEOPLE:

DAVID SURRATT from Pamela Adams.

DONNA MARSHALL from Jeff & Joan McGlaughlin.

MICHAEL DRUCQUER from Sharon Whisten.

MARY MOOR, from Diane Harrison.

PEG RULEMAN from Bridgett Bartley.

CYNTHIA S. SMIT, from Jane Cangalosi.

DOROTHY V. SWISHER, died February 28, 2011, from Claude E. & Sandra B. Dull.

TOMMY BOSSERMAN from Marie & John Frye.

SISSY MARIE D'AMICO from Mary Ann D'Amico.

IN HONOR OF PEOPLE:

THE AMBERWOOD VETERINARY HOSPITAL, staff and friends who nurtured an emaciated dog back to good health. I met the dog and fell in love. MAXIE is now a beloved member of my family. Thank you for all your good work. Mary Raye Cox.

DAVID & TANYA SHIFFLETT from Kelly Keech.

DR. MICHELLE WEEKS AND EVERYONE at the ANIMAL HOSPITAL OF WAYNESBORO, VA. You're the best! Thank you for the beyond superb care in healing my injuries. I can't wait to take my cone off and run free in the sunshine! Love, Segen Holtmann.

MIDDLE RIVER VETERINARY HOSPITAL from Lynne Gilbert.

RITA SIMMONS from Kim & Amanda Kibler.

KATIE LONG on her birthday April 8, 2011, from Virginia Jones.

BRAVO:

GAIL BROWN who is doing a WONDERFUL job with our thank you, memory, honor and tax receipt cards. THANK YOU GAIL!!

THE WILDLIFE CENTER OF VIRGINIA, MIDDLE RIVER VETERINARY HOSPITAL, TENDER CARE VETERINARY CENTER, CLAIR PARK ANIMAL HOSPITAL, ANIMAL HEALTH CARE CENTER, COMMONWEALTH VETERINARY CLINIC, AUGUSTA VALLEY ANIMAL HOSPITAL, PET PARLOR, ARMSTRONG RESTAURANT, PETS & PALS, KROGER, MUGSHOTS, FOOD LION N. COALTER, YOUNG'S HARDWARE, SHENANDOAH HARLEY DAVIDSON, THE STAUNTON LIBRARY, ALL CLIENTS & STAFF for donating so much pet food this past year for our communities pets that are in great need! All of you guys ROCK!!

MASSANUTTEN TECHNICAL CENTER, VETERINARY ASSISTING, for their wonderful donation. Thank you!!

BOB HOLTMANN, SR., JENNIFER KIRKLAND, RUTH ANN NOBLETTE, PAM ?, VICKI EDELMANN, CAROL JACKSON, JOHN ADAMS, & BOB HOLTMANN, JR., for their hard and continuous work with our Pet Food drive. AWESOME FOLKS!

BEVERLY FAULKENBERRY, BRAXTON NAGLE, BILL SORANNO, BOB HOLTMANN, SR., BOB JOHNSON, SUSAN VINCENT, and ROAD TO RECOVERY VOLUNTEERS co-ordinated by LEIGH ANDERSON, social worker (& dog lover!) for the Oncology Dept at Augusta Health Center for all of their time and effort to keep DONALD GORDON And “RUFUS” together during six weeks of radiation treatment. YOU ALL ARE THE ABSOLUTE BEST!!

JENN WADE and her two daughters, CARMEN & LAURYN, for designing the wonderful t-shirt for our Mosby's Mouths to Feed contest. YOU LADIES ROCK!!

BOB HOTLMANN & CHRISTINE WORONTZOFF for all the above and beyond help they give us!!

A big THANKS to the PETCO FOUNDATION for awarding our Spay/Neuter Financial Assistance Program a grant in the amount of $5,000! This will go a long way in helping us stop the needless killing of healthy dogs and puppies. You're WONDERFUL!

Bravo to VIRGINIA JONES of Indianapolis, IN for her generous donation to our Spay/Neuter Financial Assistance Program! YOU ARE THE BEST!

The last word: Why old dogs are the best dogs

They can be eccentric, slow afoot, even grouchy. But dogs live out their final days,
says The Washington Post's Gene Weingarten, with a humility and grace we all could learn from.

Not long before his death, Harry and I headed out for a walk that proved eventful.
He was nearly 13, old for a big dog. Walks were no longer the slap-happy Iditarods
of his youth, frenzies of purposeless pulling in which we would cast madly off in
all directions, fighting for command. Nor were they the exuberant archaeological
expeditions of his middle years, when every other tree or hydrant or blade of grass
held tantalizing secrets about his neighbors. In his old age, Harry had transformed
his walk into a simple process of elimination-a dutiful, utilitarian, head-down
trudge. When finished, he would shuffle home to his ratty old bed, which graced our
living room because Harry could no longer ascend the stairs. On these walks, Harry
seemed oblivious to his surroundings, absorbed in the arduous responsibility of
placing foot before foot before foot before foot. But this time, on the edge of a
small urban park, he stopped to watch something. A man was throwing a Frisbee to his
dog. The dog, about Harry's size, was tracking the flight expertly, as Harry had
once done, anticipating hooks and slices by watching the pitch and roll and yaw of
the disc, as Harry had done, then catching it with a joyful, punctuating leap, as
Harry had once done, too.

Harry sat. For 10 minutes, he watched the fling and catch, fling and catch, his face
contented, his eyes alight, his tail a-twitch. Our walk home was almost . jaunty.

Some years ago, The Washington Post invited readers to come up with a midlife list
of goals for an underachiever. The first-runner-up prize went to: "Win the
admiration of my dog."

It's no big deal to love a dog; they make it so easy for you. They find you
brilliant, even if you are a witling. You fascinate them, even if you are as dull as
a butter knife. They are fond of you, even if you are a genocidal maniac. Hitler
loved his dogs, and they loved him.

Puppies are incomparably cute and incomparably entertaining, and, best of all, they
smell exactly like puppies. At middle age, a dog has settled into the knuckleheaded
matrix of behavior we find so appealing-his unquestioning loyalty, his irrepressible
willingness to please, his infectious happiness. But it is not until a dog gets old
that his most important virtues ripen and coalesce. Old dogs can be cloudy-eyed and
grouchy, gray of muzzle, graceless of gait, odd of habit, hard of hearing, pimply,
wheezy, lazy, and lumpy. But to anyone who has ever known an old dog, these flaws
are of little consequence. Old dogs are vulnerable. They show exorbitant gratitude
and limitless trust. They are without artifice. They are funny in new and unexpected
ways. But, above all, they seem at peace.

Kafka wrote that the meaning of life is that it ends. He meant that our lives are
shaped and shaded by the existential terror of knowing that all is finite. This
anxiety informs poetry, literature, the monuments we build, the wars we wage-all of
it. Kafka was talking, of course, about people. Among animals, only humans are said
to be self-aware enough to comprehend the passage of time and the grim truth of
mortality. How, then, to explain old Harry at the edge of that park, gray and lame,
just days from the end, experiencing what can only be called wistfulness and
nostalgia? I have lived with eight dogs, watched six of them grow old and infirm
with grace and dignity, and die with what seemed to be acceptance. I have seen old
dogs grieve at the loss of their friends. I have come to believe that as they age,
dogs comprehend the passage of time, and, if not the inevitability of death,
certainly the relentlessness of the onset of their frailties. They understand that
what's gone is gone.

What dogs do not have is an abstract sense of fear, or a feeling of injustice or
entitlement. They do not see themselves, as we do, as tragic heroes, battling
ceaselessly against the merciless onslaught of time. Unlike us, old dogs lack the
audacity to mythologize their lives. You've got to love them for that.

The product of a Kansas puppy mill, Harry was sold to us as a yellow Labrador
retriever. I suppose it was technically true, but only in the sense that Tic Tacs
are technically "food." Harry's lineage was suspect. He wasn't the square-headed,
elegant type of Labrador you can envision in the wilds of Canada hunting for ducks.
He was the shape of a baked potato, with the color and luster of an interoffice
envelope. You could envision him in the wilds of suburban Toledo, hunting for
nuggets of dried food in a carpet.

His full name was Harry S Truman, and once he'd reached middle age, he had indeed
developed the unassuming soul of a haberdasher. We sometimes called him Tru, which
fit his loyalty but was in other ways a misnomer: Harry was a bit of an eccentric, a
few bubbles off plumb. Though he had never experienced an electrical shock, whenever
he encountered a wire on the floor-say, a power cord leading from a laptop to a wall
socket-Harry would stop and refuse to proceed. To him, this barrier was as
impassable as the Himalayas. He'd stand there, waiting for someone to move it. Also,
he was afraid of wind.

While Harry lacked the wiliness and cunning of some dogs, I did watch one day as he
figured out a basic principle of physics. He was playing with a water bottle in our
backyard-it was one of those 5-gallon cylindrical plastic jugs from the top of a
water cooler. At one point, it rolled down a hill, which surprised and delighted
him. He retrieved it, brought it back up and tried to make it go down again. It
wouldn't. I watched him nudge it around until he discovered that for the bottle to
roll, its long axis had to be perpendicular to the slope of the hill. You could see
the understanding dawn on his face; it was Archimedes in his bath, Helen Keller at
the water spigot.

That was probably the intellectual achievement of Harry's life, tarnished only
slightly by the fact that he spent the next two hours insipidly entranced, rolling
the bottle down and hauling it back up. He did not come inside until it grew too
dark for him to see.

I believe I know exactly when Harry became an old dog. He was about 9 years old. It
happened at 10:15 on the evening of June 21, 2001, the day my family moved from the
suburbs to the city. The move took longer than we'd anticipated. Inexcusably, Harry
had been left alone in the vacated house-eerie, echoing, empty of furniture and of
all belongings except Harry and his bed-for eight hours. When I arrived to pick him
up, he was beyond frantic.

He met me at the door and embraced me around the waist in a way that is not
immediately reconcilable with the musculature and skeleton of a dog's front legs. I
could not extricate myself from his grasp. We walked out of that house like a
slow-dancing couple, and Harry did not let go until I opened the car door.

He wasn't barking at me in reprimand, as he once might have done. He hadn't fouled
the house in spite. That night, Harry was simply scared and vulnerable, impossibly
sweet and needy and grateful. He had lost something of himself, but he had gained
something more touching and more valuable. He had entered old age.

In the year after our move, Harry began to age visibly, and he did it the way most
dogs do. First his muzzle began to whiten, and then the white slowly crept backward
to swallow his entire head. As he became more sedentary, he thickened a bit, too.

On walks, he would no longer bother to scout and circle for a place to relieve
himself. He would simply do it in mid-plod, like a horse, leaving the difficult
logistics of drive-by cleanup to me. Sometimes, while crossing a busy street, with
cars whizzing by, he would plop down to scratch his ear. Sometimes, he would forget
where he was and why he was there. To the amusement of passersby, I would have to
hunker down beside him and say, "Harry, we're on a walk, and we're going home now.
Home is this way, okay?" On these dutiful walks, Harry ignored almost everything he
passed. The most notable exception was an old, barrel-chested female pit bull named
Honey, whom he loved. This was surprising, both because other dogs had long ago
ceased to interest Harry at all, and because even back when they did, Harry's tastes
were for the guys.

Still, when we met Honey on walks, Harry perked up. Honey was younger by five years
and heartier by a mile, but she liked Harry and slowed her gait when he was around.
They waddled together for blocks, eyes forward, hardly interacting but content in
each other's company. I will forever be grateful to Honey for sweetening Harry's
last days.

Some people who seem unmoved by the deaths of tens of thousands through war or
natural disaster will nonetheless grieve inconsolably over the loss of the family
dog. People who find this behavior distasteful are often the ones without pets. It
is hard to understand, in the abstract, the degree to which a companion animal,
particularly after a long life, becomes a part of you. I believe I've figured out
what this is all about. It is not as noble as I'd like it to be, but it is not
anything of which to be ashamed, either.

In our dogs, we see ourselves. Dogs exhibit almost all of our emotions; if you think
a dog cannot register envy or pity or pride or melancholia, you have never lived
with one for any length of time. What dogs lack is our ability to dissimulate. They
wear their emotions nakedly, and so, in watching them, we see ourselves as we would
be if we were stripped of posture and pretense. Their innocence is enormously
appealing. When we watch a dog progress from puppy­hood to old age, we are watching
our own lives in microcosm. Our dogs become old, frail, crotchety, and vulnerable,
just as Grandma did, just as we surely will, come the day. When we grieve for them,
we grieve for ourselves.

*From the book Old Dogs, text by Gene Weingarten and Michael S. Williamson, based on a longer excerpt that originally appeared in The Washington Post. ©2008 by Gene Weingarten and Michael S. Williamson. Reprinted by permission of Simon & Schuster Inc

http://theweek.com/article/index/89914/the-last-word-why-old-dogs-are-the-best-dogs/1

This special section is for those who have made donations to The Mosby Foundation in honor of their beloved friends. Dogs come into our lives and enrich us in so many ways, yet ask nothing in return except for love . . .

Dear Mosby, Habits are hard to change, For almost six years, my evening ritual was to sit on the front steps and listen for the rumble of the bridge timbers. That was the signal that my beloved brother was home. Over the years, that conclusion became an immutable law of Nature. It’s been over two years since the law was broken but the ritual remained. Slowly, expectation faded into hope and then hope into a refuge of sweet dreams. As silently as fog can invade and conquor, a new law of Nature settled into Marble Valley: Mosby would never again come home. I would never again experience the comfort and security only my big brother could provide. The donkeys, sheep and deer would never again enjoy the handsome face that launched a thousand kisses their way. The children would never again come to the store to be kissed by Nature’s definition of kindness. The new law is hopelessly unfair and sadly immutable. Nature abounds with unseen forces that act at a distance. Just as the moon influences the tides, just as a tuning fork induces sympathetic vibrations in distant objects, your spirit has inspired a thousand acts of kindness. On a clear starlit night the Old Grouch and I were on the front steps sharing sweet dreams of you. In a spectacular display of heavenly pyrotechnics, a falling star streaked across the sky and disappeared behind Walker Mountain. The Old Grouch said, “There goes Mosby heading for the Gulf states. He’s shepherding a small flock of angels, the Sorrells family, on a rescue mission for Katrina victims.” You have left quite a legacy. The skies are clear, the stars are bright, and there is a crisp autumnal nip in the air. It’s time to join the Old Grouch on the front steps and dream sweet dreams of you. Love, Maggie
Carole & John Adams Cindy Palmer Dorothea McGay Mary Penn-Soranno Jayne Freed Henry & Nita Fisher Shadow & Sebastian Ann Hyden Danise Elias Joan Olmsted Jean Hoffman Valerie Foster	W.H. Nutty Libby Nutty Allison Humbert Angela Brown Barbara White Elizabeth Arvin Margaret & Charles Brand Janette Nutty Susan Komaroff Richard & Sylvia Dean Ginny Ward Audrey Weekley Carol W. Suiter	Carol Jackson Jan Pierce Sarah Nutty Sue Bernston Cynthia & Pete Roth Danielle Gerlinger Elisabeth Moore The Ladies of Morning Circle, 2nd Presbyterian Church Tammie & Rafael Arias Ron Oberg Jane Hanger

My Baby Girl Isis
04/1993 – 04/01/2007

My heart weeps tears
Of love.
I hold you. Pet you. Smell you.
For the last time.

I must give to you
What you have given to me…….
Freedom.

Freedom to walk in skies of blue
Or icy winds.
To smile with every muscle.
To chase after nothing but blowing grass.

We are separated physically now.
But not spiritually.
Never spiritually.
I will walk on.
You have taught me well.

I will feel sadness.
But it won’t stop or over take me.

I will fill myself up with
Your memories.

Memories of….

My Baby Girl
My Isis

Janet A. Melton
04/04/2007