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I once had two dogs I raised from pups.

When I first walked them they cried out to bigger dogs their story.

The bigger dogs always grumped as if to say, “Well, they do that to us.”

They did that every day until one day I decided to take just one of them with me.

The first bigger dog he saw he ran up to crying.

The bigger dog acted the role of the bigger dog, comforting.

Then they talked.

They had quite the conversation.

The bigger dog seemed to say, “Well, you got a good one.”

Came the fourth dog the little fellow marched up proud and said, I could hear it plain as day, “I got a good one.” His head was high. His tail was proud and happy.

I brought him home. Then I took his brother out.

The same thing happened again.

It ended with him head high and tail erect bobbing up saying. “I got a good one.”

At a moment when it seemed all love had left my life forever love came streaming in.

Their names are Spike and George.

Their bodies lie buried here.

Their spirits are alive in my soul.

They are good ones.

I think now of my brother Michael as he lay dead the day life for him ended.

I felt his heart break.

I feel the broken dead hearts of so many who have gone before me, will come after me.

Like Miyamoto Musashi I rise from the ashes of my dreams knowing that I have bathed in extraordinary love.

I am anointed with the blood of my Saviour.

I am become JUDGMENT.

Tomorrow I was supposed to be hung.

It seems life for whatever purposes of its own has decided to stall the noose.

The gallows still awaits as it does for all of us.

God grant me the courage to be hung until I am dead.

 

 

–Reg Hartt

 

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