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.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
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.
