I'll have to forget me to know where I've gone,
And take myself back to find my way home.
You will let me go, or I'll never return.
I'll have to forget me to know where I've gone.

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu.
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught
Save where you are, how happy you make those.
    So true a fool is love that in your will,
    Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

He slumps, grumbling at the air
a grunt, no more
admittance of awareness
minimising risk
of developing interest
grunt

the glow across
his face pale
a reflective pallor
shows us his day
has spent him inside
grunt

nourishment calls
a gutted feeling
deeper than his alienation
as food is not forthcoming
he tries to sing
grunt

in letting go
his newfound voice
an interrupted squawk
so disgusted he uhgs
hiding himself again
grunt

daily untouched
but for lonely nights
when in consolation
he hands himself to the
bounty of the sickened screen
grunt

and gurgles
in unity, at one
with images which champion
his waking hours, forcing him
unconsenting
and confused
grunt

From the upstairs window
She has a wonderful view of him
And she likes what she sees.

She stares intently.
Her heart beats faster
Her mouth opens
And she almost drools
As she considers the possibilities
And imagines all kinds of fun...

But soon
Alas
It is over

And he flies away.

I'll remember holding onto you
close, cradling your head in my hands,
from those old days when your coat was
sleek back and shiny,
slim white bib trailing down your
chest,
I'll remeber how we got you,
overwieght,
under loved,
scared and
alone,
abandoned by many.
You came with a blue blanket
with butterflies on it,
we called it your
"butterfly blanket"
I'll remember your
heart murmur,
and the check-up you had
when they shaved your chest.
I'll remember how as the years passed
your muzzle became streaked with gray,
but how you still found that
puppy-like energy
when it was time for a
car ride or supper
or a walk.
I'll remember how much you relied on
habit,
racing to the door after you
finished your supper,
whining anxiously to go outside and bark.
That time when you pretended to get a
drink of water,
when all you were doing was
trying to get to your sister's
bowl,
that day when you took Sara's
bone too,
and stood waiting at the door,
two bones clenched tightly,
wagging.
How you loved
to eat the packed snow off
my coat in the winter,
how you held your
lollipop treats like the real thing,
stick in paws,
chewing on the sucker.
Handing you a treat and
having you run
to the door,
how you loved the
outside,
you'd sit out in
the rain,
the snow,
the hot sun,
such an outdoor dog.
I love you.
I'll smile fondly
when I bike past
the holes you would dig
to sit in,
recall the glittering sand
shining in your graying fur.
Grin when I see
A mid-summer night's dream,
my donkey-dog,
and I'll
stroke your fur one last time,
and scratch behind your ear
so your back leg would thump,
whisper love in your floppy ear,
and slowly put you down to rest
in a sunny spot
in the backyard,
to rest in the sun
for eternity.