My heart yearns for her to live the longest of days,
I pine to have her a year longer.
My sweet Missy,
The one I have guided through youth and the one I will guide through her final most fragile days.

I can see the light in her eyes grow dim with dull torpor.
I can feel the sluggish sense of enervation in her spirit,
yet at every chance I get,
I plead to god for another hour,
Another day,
Another month,
Another year.

I know that the final countdown is set.
The air is filled with the slightest tinge of melancholy.
And with every weary glance,
Our eyes meet one another.
And with every placid breath
Words that only a dog and its owner can understand are spoken.

Yet as the days grow dull and the air runs thin,
New life is approaching.
As the spring flowers bloom.
And if she is to depart soon,
Hopefully, she may be reborn into a new life.
And her soul and breath will take in renewed unsullied life energy.

And maybe we will meet again.

They say that with death comes life,
And I've come to accept that we may not have much time together on this earth.
But maybe,
just maybe,

we will meet again.