His dog died,
and that’s all there was to it.
Except it wasn’t.
Those words in between,
the missing of a friend,
the times relived;  companion
dog that did him in.  Joyful.
Bit his heart and made him write
such words so right,
that I went home
and kissed my dog
and played with her in the garden.
And we both lay down in the dirt,
and will again tonight, and every night.
Until she sleeps.  And I with Daisy.
All because his dog died.

r ~ 18Mar14