	Hero’s Huskies Our Hero

The Hero of our Hearts

"Hero"

February 1, 1998 - May 14, 2004

"We don't know why you died, but we certainly know why you lived"

You were brought to our house already knowing your role at 5 weeks old. You were to heal our hearts from a recent loss of another beloved pet. You curled up into the crook of your daddy's neck and nuzzled him as if to say, "its okay... I'm here now". You were named Hero because you already were, and from that moment we were hopelessly in love with your spirit.

You grew into one of the most beautiful animals on the planet, long golden hair and bright blue eyes. Surely one of the most beautiful and unusual Siberian Huskies anyone had ever seen. You stopped traffic, and mesmerized everyone from the drive through personnel at a fast food chain to little old ladies in the park. Everyone who met you was entranced with your soul, and you greeted everyone as if you were just as enchanted with them. It became more and more apparent that you were a joy in our lives that we could never quite describe. People who were not dog lovers could not possibly understand, but they wanted to... because you made that relationship between you and your family look so easy that even others who were not "pet people" wanted to be!

Each Sunday, you knew the routine... this was the second day in a row that mommy and daddy slept past dawn, so it must be Sunday... the day for the park!!!! Oh, how you loved the park! This was the day to smell all of the other "doggie mail" along the trails and to leave your own! You searched for deer, pranced for the lady dogs and sniffed out squirrels. You and daddy would be gone for hours during your special time.

At four years old, we brought you home your mate, Holly. How she harassed you and jumped and bit and played! But she grew up and together you two gave us two litters of the most adorable babies to love and nourish. They are your legacy. You also became the towns parade leader each year, a therapy dog for all. Babies were drawn to you, and people would want to take their picture with you. You won contests and hearts... you always made us proud to be your pet parents.

We wish that life could have been different for you. For all of the things you gave us, the one thing we could never give you is what you sought the most... the ability to run free. You could never understand that Siberians could never be trusted off lead for their love to run will most certainly bring swift end to their lives, for you guys run too far too fast and get disoriented, killed by cars or even a farmers rifle. We wanted so desperately to allow you the freedom to run, just once, unbounded!

On May 13, 2004 you somehow managed to break free during an early morning storm. We searched and searched. Took off of work, placed signs up and down our rural road. Certain the microchip, signs or tags would be seen and a caring neighbor or passerby might call. The next morning we received the call... Did we have a dog named Hero? Yes! I was so excited you were found and could call Daddy and tell him our precious Hero was coming home! The next sentence brought chills to my body. Her husband had shot and killed you that morning in their yard. I cannot imagine your pain... nor your shock as you would gladly have licked the hand that held the gun. You could not possibly have understood the heart that would do such a thing as you had never met anyone who didn't fall head over heels in love with you. I am so sorry, my boy, that there are people in this world that will never understand the joy that you or one of your doggy brothers or sisters could bring into their lives. I am so sorry that we could not protect you. I am sorry that you felt the need to run and that it brought such a short, tragic end to your beautiful life.

You were such a presence in our lives, and in all who met and knew you. You brought to us so very much more than we could ever have given to you. You brought us joy and love and for that, my friend, I will be forever in your debt. Run free, my Hero, run free North of the Rainbow Bridge... and we will meet again. Until then, I know you have the coolest set of wings!

Daddy, Mommy, Holly, Zorro, Echo, Sasha, Apache and the entire pack that serenades your memory each evening!

(Hawk and Cookie, too)

We miss you!

A Dog's Prayer

by Beth Norman Harris

Hero at 5 weeks old

Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.

When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements. And I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Though had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all the land, for you are my god and I am your devoted worshiper.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst.

Feed me clean food, that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life should your life be in danger.

And, beloved master, should the Great Master see fit to deprive me of my health or sight, do not turn me away from you. Rather, hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful blessing of eternal rest...and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.

After Hero's death, we had so very many people reach out to us, some still to this day. We hear so many stories of pet parents who have suffered the loss of their furbabies, and we feel privileged to have had them share their personal stories with us. So many words of comfort have been sent to us, but perhaps none that have helped heal our hearts more than the following (the author is unknown):

Where To Bury a Good Dog

There are various places within which a dog may be buried. We are thinking now of a boy whose coat was thick and soft and golden in the sunshine, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This dog is buried beneath the oak, under four feet of garden loam and at its proper season the leaves fall upon the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a mighty oak, or a pine, or any flowering shrub of the garden is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed a flavorous bone, or lifted head to greet some strange intruder. These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else.

For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as if in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land, where wildflowers grow and cattle graze. It is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, and nothing lost – if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.

If you bury him in his spot, the secret of which you must already have, he will come to you when you call – come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heed, they should not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he is yours and he belongs there.

People may laugh at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, or who hear no whimper pitched too fine for human ear, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing.

The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master.

North of The Rainbow Bridge

In Loving Memory of all who have crossed our hearts... and await each of us on the north side of the bridge...

"Those that we have held in our arms for a while we hold in our hearts forever"

The time comes. A Siberian Husky lifts up its head. There is an untested adventure beyond. Time to go.

Across the Rainbow Bridge is a place for all dogs. A river runs wide and shallow with tennis balls that fly with their own wings; that is the place for a Labrador or Golden to await its master's arrival.

The Siberian is not content here. Northward is its trail....

There are soft pastures for Aussies and Border Collies, with sheep and geese to pen. Agility equipment grows like trees amid Frisbees and flyball.

But the North continues its sure wild call, and the Siberian's journey continues....

Now the air is colder. Now the moon is always full. Now the light is silver and it breaks and shimmers on fields of bright snow. Now there are no roads, no walls, no pens, just endless space to run. This is where Siberians gather, North of the Rainbow Bridge.

They wait in this beautiful place, happy, but not complete. Suddenly, a howl begins, as one dog senses someone coming, someone very special. All the Siberians raise their heads and join in the ancient chorus. They dance like moonbeams and sing like winter winds.

There are red ones like dawn streaks, black ones splattered with many colors and silver ones like the first strange hour before light. They line up as if in harness and run together, in a scintillating, many-colored streak. The leader of the team guides the others past the fields and river, with racing feet and racing heart. They rush to greet the new arrival at the Rainbow Bridge, where the leader is rejoined with its beloved person, never to be parted again.

The glory of the reunion is celebrated by all the Siberians dwelling beyond the Bridge, a glimmering, multicolored team leaping and whirling with joy. The light from that scene is what we see on magical evenings in the northernmost parts of this Earth: The Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights beyond the Rainbow Bridge.

~*~In Memory of Hero~*~

These are for you Robin, Frank & Jacob! I know Hero meant so much to each of you & He truly was a HERO, I only wish that I could have had the opportunity to meet this gorgeous & spectacular Siberian Husky, One day maybe I can get a Hero Grand-pup or Great Grand-pup! Just wanted to send this to you & let you know that even though I didn't have the chance to meet "YOUR HERO" that I will remember him & his story always. We Love you guys!!!! *HUGS!*

Also to everyone I thought I'd just share the photo's & my thought's on the Foley family & their wonderful kennel & spectacular Siberians!!!! Hero & the rest of their pack are truly Heroes & wonderful specimens to the preservation of the "SIBERIAN HUSKY" Breed! I hope to do business with them in the future & for many years to come preserve the friendship I have gotten from Robin especially! You are awesome people!

www.PreciousKennels.com