| Location | Johnstone |
| Age | 9 years |
| Date of Birth | 20/12/1999 |
| Date of Death | 03/03/2009 |
| Visitors | 337 since 07/03/2009 |
| Creator |
boris was 16wks when i got him my children bought him for mothers day he was a black angoura rabbit and i had him for 9 and a half years hes only been gone since tuesday and he was a great pet too me he would lie at the fire everynight and would just go about playing he died with cancer in the jaw and liver but he lived his life too the full i will always love you boris r i p my baby bunny love mam xxxxxxx
Precious Love
The agony is so great...
and yet I will stand it.
Had I not loved so very much...
I would not hurt so much.
But God knows I would not want to diminish
that precious love...
By one fraction of an ounce.
I will hurt...
And I will be grateful for that hurt
For it bears witness to the depth of my love.
And for that I will be eternally grateful.
AUTHOR:UNKNOWN
Boris XXxxXXxx
A Gift Of Paws
(Terri Onorato)
In the silent Christmas morning my heart begins to
ache as feelings from the day you left dawn slowly with daybreak.
I say a prayer of grateful thanks for the life that I've been blessed
and ask for strength so that I might through pain find happiness.
God sent you as a present though not received on Christmas day,
a gift of paws that reached down deep and stole my heart away.
Tears are part of healing, each one shed will ease the pain, so that memories will come to mind in a most dynamic, ardent way.
I doubt that you would want me to spend this day in tears.
I know you'd rather see me smile as from atop a cloud you peer.
Though a time or two I've lost my way since the Keeper called you Home,
now faith restored by angel paws will never come undone. A loving aura fills the sky as you rest on clouds of fleece,
and angels gently tuck you in,
may you sleep in heavenly peace.
Letter From Heaven
Dear Boris,
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.
xxx
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