I hope I gave you half of what you gave to me.
Both pups, grass-stained tussles; bites and scratches
that lead to misunderstood anger.
No, I'm not playing anymore. It's
time to go inside. Followed by
no more than five minutes of silence between us
until we were at it again.
All teeth and arms, pushing and grappling, clawing
like pups are apt to do.
When you were sleeping in the crate for
those first few months, I'd put my hand between
the bars, searching for my buddy; only
finding gnashing teeth, a wagging tail.
Our roles were well-defined, as far as you were concerned.

It wasn't overnight, but
I stopped rolling around (as much) and
your joints stiffened, in part because of the
years passing through us, in part
because of that one time (we're pretty sure)
you fell off the deck.
We both seemed to be fine
with it, taking the time every winter,
when your allergies would subside,
to throw snowballs and wrestle until
we were both too exhausted to get up from the snow.

The rest was calm, mostly, me
feigning excited chatter to incite
a tail wag and a big smile from you, maybe even
a **** wiggle if I was lucky. You, begging
for food at 6 PM, then 5 PM, pushing 4:30
dinner like the elderly tend to do. Your coat, not shining like it used to. Your smile, a little more offset as each ancient tooth
struggled to hold on.

I have no more to say.

You helped get me here, so thank you.

Thank you.

A car speeds down the highway;
an aching heart beats on despite constant
complaints. The car veers left on a straight road, tires spinning on gravel;
the heart housed in, surrounded by
disease. Slow, plodding, it beats a little slower
with every passing day. Momentum
carries the car, spinning then rolling,
bits and pieces flying in all directions; the heart grows weaker still, others keep coming because a dying heart shouldn't beat alone. The car takes one final flip,
settling upside down, glass broken, seatbelts still in place, dents, scratches, scrapes and newfound bruises; the heart is slower still,
pained peace settling until, veins showing, baggy eyes, wrinkled hands, it stops. The car, leaving black marks on straight highway; the heart leaving a slightly different imprint. It all
stops,

tonight we reminisced
about pets loved and lost and a few that we
found again. and though
decades
have gone by, and we have travelled roads
with different destinations, we're still brought
back by the fur babies that made our
home whole. our source the same,
we
will always be held together by at
least that much

I know
that every cliché is true.
And every comparison, like the one about
your eyes shining lonely but brilliant like the moon, well, it is too. The one about your kindness,
a scout helping an old woman cross the road. The one about your brilliance, leaving me feeling both blessed and a little intimidated, yes that one too.
Of course, the one
about your smile
and the whole room, like a christmas tree; yes that one too.
Thank you,
for granting me some time
with a white winged being;
but of course that one is true,
too.

The sun will come up tomorrow,
the flowers will grow in the spring,
May love abound in your life and
peace to your soul may it bring.

Our lives are pregnant with insignificance.  
Things like--pecker gnats and Chihuahuas,

fake bronze menorahs,  white t-shirts,
and plastic daffodils.  Good Mental

health demands we balance life’s  trivial
with significant concerns, such as--cost-free

drugs to feel less bad, dealing with suicidal
people who find homicide intriguing, predicting

a python’s hunger pangs and the why, of
Saturn’s four rings;  the wise know the difference.