Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in the world is more grateful
for kindness than mine. Do not break my spirit with a stick, for although I should
lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will teach me
more quickly 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 I hear your step. When the weather is cold
and wet, please take me inside for I am a domesticated animal, no longer used to
bitter elements, and I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were
were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food so that I may
stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side standing
ready to protect you with my life should your life be in danger.

And master, when I am very old and the Greatest Master sees fit to deprive me
of my health and sight, do not turn me away, rather, see that my trusting life is
gently taken away and I shall leave you knowing with the last breath I draw, my
fate was always safest in your hands.

Beth Norman Harris

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to 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 Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

The thing is, helicopters are different from airplanes.
An airplane by its nature wants to fly and, if not interfered with too
strongly by unusual events or by a deliberately incompetent pilot, it will fly.
A helicopter does not want to fly.
It is maintained in the air by a variety of forces
and controls working in opposition to each other,
and if there is any disturbance in the delicate balance,
the helicopter stops flying, immediately and disastrously.
There is no such thing as a gliding helicopter.
This is why a helicopter pilot is so different a being from an airplane pilot,
and why in general, airplane pilots are open, clear-eyed, buoyant extroverts,
and helicopter pilots are brooders, introspective anticipators of trouble.
They know if anything bad has not happened, it is about to.

Harry Reasoner [during the Vietnam war]