There is a pretty place up in the sky, where special dogs go when they die.
A place to stay and wait all day until their master comes their way.
For some the wait is short and sweet, for others time drags on leaded feet.
Row upon row by heaven’s gate the noble, furried creatures wait.
For a certain footstep they know, for a certain voice to say, “Let’s go.”
And so you left us on this day for a place of no pain, to run, to play.
But keep your eyes upon the gate, I’ll try not to be late.
I’ll softly call your name and then, together, life will be good again.
— “Doc” Frank G. Nuanes
