Jul 2015
Growing up,
she was always there,
keeping a watchful eye as I ran the shores of the creek.
She was my escort and witness each time I proudly snatched up a bullfrog
and the perfect playmate on rare snow-days when we would bury ourselves deep in the pile of snowflakes that were littering our driveway.
In her caring nature, she would lay beside me on the days when I was sick.
She would rest her head upon my lap, reassure and comfort me all the while.
When I would stupidly stumble and scrape myself bleeding, she'd kiss the wound better until the blood dried and my heart caught up to my tears.
She and I would play together: dress-up and other make-believes.
We sometimes adorned ourselves in fancy clothes and danced around the kitchen, making up routines or plays to preform in front of whoever I ordered to watch the product of our silly games.
Some nights, she would lay down beside me before I feel asleep.
I would listen to her breathing; heavy and peacefully slow.
Somehow the beat of our breath would begin to fuse and we'd drift off in synchronized silence.
Then, she would sheepishly wake open her eyes just to kiss my face or the front side of my hand, assuring my half awake heart that she loved me.
But as time went on, we both grew up.
I made the choice to move far away.
Upon some odd occasion, I would visit her again.
During each reunion, she would never cease to stay close to my side, trying to pick up the days we had lost together, cherishing my now foreign presence,
wishing we had more time.
Now
I am wishing for more time with you.
I am longing for a blissful afternoon walk around the pond with you.
I am reminiscing in the feeling of running through the fields
and along the shore with you.
I am searching for another day to to lie basking in the sunshine with you.
Oh, to have just one more summer popsicle on the deck you,
or one more leaf-pile jumping Autumn eve with you.
But far mostly,
I am praying that you are not mad at what we had to do to you,
and simply just wishing that you had more than 90
short
dog years
to be my loving, loyal puppy, Lu.
she was always there,
keeping a watchful eye as I ran the shores of the creek.
She was my escort and witness each time I proudly snatched up a bullfrog
and the perfect playmate on rare snow-days when we would bury ourselves deep in the pile of snowflakes that were littering our driveway.
In her caring nature, she would lay beside me on the days when I was sick.
She would rest her head upon my lap, reassure and comfort me all the while.
When I would stupidly stumble and scrape myself bleeding, she'd kiss the wound better until the blood dried and my heart caught up to my tears.
She and I would play together: dress-up and other make-believes.
We sometimes adorned ourselves in fancy clothes and danced around the kitchen, making up routines or plays to preform in front of whoever I ordered to watch the product of our silly games.
Some nights, she would lay down beside me before I feel asleep.
I would listen to her breathing; heavy and peacefully slow.
Somehow the beat of our breath would begin to fuse and we'd drift off in synchronized silence.
Then, she would sheepishly wake open her eyes just to kiss my face or the front side of my hand, assuring my half awake heart that she loved me.
But as time went on, we both grew up.
I made the choice to move far away.
Upon some odd occasion, I would visit her again.
During each reunion, she would never cease to stay close to my side, trying to pick up the days we had lost together, cherishing my now foreign presence,
wishing we had more time.
Now
I am wishing for more time with you.
I am longing for a blissful afternoon walk around the pond with you.
I am reminiscing in the feeling of running through the fields
and along the shore with you.
I am searching for another day to to lie basking in the sunshine with you.
Oh, to have just one more summer popsicle on the deck you,
or one more leaf-pile jumping Autumn eve with you.
But far mostly,
I am praying that you are not mad at what we had to do to you,
and simply just wishing that you had more than 90
short
dog years
to be my loving, loyal puppy, Lu.
