Based out of Austin, Texas. Collectors of fauxconuts, harbingers of awesome, occasionally aquatic, always adventurous.
Friday, July 23, 2010
To get us through a very sad time
From the desk of AC1, Manda.
To Barton Von Maynard aka Moose, a very dignified and beloved dog:
SILVERDENE EMBLEM O'NEILL, Dalmatian dog, died 1940
Last Will: The great American dramatist Eugene O'Neill wrote this last will and testament to comfort his wife after the death of the family pet, a beautiful dalmatian. It read: "I, Silverdene Emblem O'Neill (familiarly known to my family, friends and acquaintances as Blemie) ... do hereby bury my last will and testament in the mind of my master.... I have little in the way of material things to leave. Dogs are wiser than men. They do not set great store upon things. They do not waste their days hoarding property. They do not ruin their sleep worrying about how to keep the objects they have, and to obtain the objects they have not. There is nothing of value I have to bequeath except my love and faith.
"These I leave to all those who loved me, to my Master and Mistress, who I know will mourn me most....Perhaps it is vain of me to boast when I am so near death, which returns all beasts and vanities to dust, but I have always been an extremely lovable dog.
"I ask my Master and Mistress to remember me always, but not to grieve for me too long. In my life I have tried to be a comfort in time of sorrow, and a reason for added joy in their happiness. It is painful for me to think that even in death I should cause them pain....It is time I said good-bye, too sick a burden on myself and on those who love me. It will be a sorrow to leave them, but not a sorrow to die....
"One last request I earnestly make. I have heard my Mistress say, 'When Blemie dies we must never have another dog. I love him so much I could never love another one.' Now I would ask her, for love of me, to have another. It would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again....
"So I suggest a dalmatian as my successor. He can hardly be as well bred or as well mannered or as distinguished and handsome as I was in my prime. My Master and Mistress must not ask the impossible.... To him I bequeath my collar and leash and my overcoat and raincoat, made to order in 1929 at Hermes in Paris....I am sure he will do his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial dog....
"One last word of farewell, Dear Master and Mistress. Whenever you visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my long happy life with you: 'Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved.' No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you, and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail."