My Old Dog

April 12, 2011 Slice of Life Tuesday

“Poetry is a mirror, which makes beautiful that which is distorted.” Percy Shelley

We don’t have pets anymore and I miss having one. As I wrote in an earlier post, sometimes we have grand-dogs visit, but while it’s fun, it isn’t the same. In the last times we had pets, a while ago, we spent three to four years with older animals, a marvelous Olde English Sheepdog called Bentley, a Jack Russell Terrier named Timothy, and a gray shorthair cat, Max. We loved all three and had them, starting with the sheepdog, a total of 18 years. Those final years were both sweet and difficult, holding on to something that wasn’t really there anymore, finding ways to fill both the pets’ needs along with our own. These animals gave much to our family, helped our children grow into adults with compassion and responsibility for living things, gave us many moments of laughter in our lives together, and loved us as we loved them. That last, in itself, is nothing to dismiss. Animals, while needing basic care, offer so much in return—a lick, a wag, a purr—the basic needs of humans, right? I wrote a poem this time to honor all the pets in my life, including those three mentioned above.

My old dog

is now deaf,

and a bit lame,

but he still

nestles his head

beside me

to ask for

loving.

He still loves me.

He will not again

leap the fence,

and be my guard.

Now it’s my turn

to take some care

for my old dog.

I love him still.