BATOR and BETYAR 
Bator and Pogany
Kis POGANY and GUBANC
The Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of Heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, thatpet goes to Rainbow Bridge.There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can runand play together.There is plenty of food,water and sunshine, and our friends are warm andcomfortable.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 stopsand 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, hislegs 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
Good bye my Huncut... 08.05.2006 6.30 PM 
After nearly 14 years with us my Sweet Huncut crossed the rainbow bridge on Saturday, Aug. 5 .2006. She was the Grandmother of all Huncut Vizslas. I never saw sweeter, calmer more gentle Vizsla than she was. I am very fortunate to have her in my life. She will be always in my heart. I found this writing, how true it is:
"Where to bury a dog
Excerpted from Old Dogs Remembered (Carroll and Graf Publishers, Inc. 1993), edited by Bud Johns. This piece by Ben Hur Lampman originally appeared in The Oregonian, copyright 1925, 1953 by Oregonian Publishing Company.
A subscriber of the Ontario [Oregon] Argus has written to the editor of that fine weekly, propounding a certain question, which, so far as we know, remains unanswered: "Where shall I bury my dog?" It is asked in advance of death. The Oregonian trusts the Argus will not be offended if this newspaper undertakes an answer, for surely such a question merits a reply. It distresses [the writer] to think of his favorite as dishonored in death, mere carrion in the winter rains. Within that sloping, canine skull, he must reflect when the dog is dead, were thoughts that dignified the dog and honored the master. The hand of the master and of the friend stroked often in affection this rough, pathetic husk that was a dog.
We would say to the Ontario man that there are various places in which a dog may be buried. We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub of the garden, is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavorous bone, or lifted head to challenge some strange intruder. These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else. For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked, and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, and nothing lost-if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.
If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, he will come to you when you call-come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they should not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he is yours and he belongs there. People may scoff, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth knowing. The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master."
Good Bye Micike... 07.30.2002
The Story of Mici..
One morning of November 1997 a little Siamese kitten appeared at our front door hungry and lost. She was the sweetest thing. All four paws covered with white "socks," her eyes were the nicest blue. Since I have Vizslas I don't keep cats around the house but this one was different. Nobody claimed her. My neighbor, Attila was my Vet and also my friend so I gave them the kitten. They had already an older indoor cat. Attila neutralized her but as soon as she can escape she came back to our house. After 2-3 times I decided to keep her myself since she loved me the most. We named her Mici. She lived at my front door, came inside occasionally when my Vizslas was in the backyard. Never dirty, never in trouble, she was the most gentle, lovable cat. Everybody in the neighborhood loved her. She loved to sleep on top of my Jeep (never scratched it). If she saw me coming she run to my front door to meet me. If she wanted food or just play, she "knocked" on the door. I am again very sad today.... After 1 days not seeing her I went out to search for Mici and I found her lying in the bushes half paralyzed. She has been hit by someone. Again I had to make the hard decision to put her in sleep. I hope she joins Betyar and my other dogs at the Rainbow Bridge and they can all play together. It is not fair, I thought cat's has 9 lives. She was only 6 years old and very happy.
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