A dear old friend has left us

For the Happy Hunting Ground.

We’re sure he’ll find a welcome there

Where bones and trees abound.

He was our dog, and ours alone,

For this he asked small pay;

A slight caress, a kind word or two

And his joy was complete the whole day.

We miss that buff and yellow coat,

The kind, brown eyes upturned,

The wagging tail, the joyful cry,

When an absent one returned.

His playful days were over,

Long before he went away

But his love was undiminshed

As his life ebbed out that day.

He had lived a peaceful, happy life

And long, for a dog ’tis true;

But short it was compared to ours;

That makes it sadder, too.

When we depart this earthly life

For distant shores somewhere.

We think we’ll find our good old dog

Welcoming us out there.

It must be that in that life to come

We again can romp with this friend so dear,

Heaven would be such a lonely place.

If signs read, “Dogs not allowed in here”


My grandfather-Alisia’s great grandfather,

Dr. Harry Williams aka Gramp, 

was a native of Rushville, near Canadaigua, N.Y.
who attended Syracuse College of Medicine
and served in the Army Medical Corps in France
during WW I. About 1934 Gramp’s collie,
Judy, died and Gramps wrote
the following ephitaph to him –
Judy was actually a male collie,
named by my Mom and two aunts.
I guess my Uncle Donald got outvoted: