My sweet dog has been gone a long time now, and I sometimes think I should remove this poem from the website.  But I get so many comments on it, I just leave it.  Anyone who has ever loved and lost a dog can see themselves here.   Moxie and Samson fill up a lot of space - physically and emotionally, but reading this poem still makes me cry that ugly ol' mascara running cry. 

Good-Bye, Good Dog. May 1, 2006.

Today at the rib shack I asked for a doggie bag

 then remembered you weren’t here.

You didn’t come to meet me in the drive.

When I open the door, I prepare to step over you -

but the space is empty.

I sit in the old rocker at the pond,

peeking to make sure I’m not on your tail.

Or your paw. It’s no longer a worry.

I wait for you to push your sweet face

up from underneath my elbow, wait

to stroke your muzzle -

to send a pretend "smooch" your way.

But you are gone.

I will think of you this summer

when the thunder comes. I’ll probably

listen for your bark: Let me in!!

Today, I need to clean your noseprints off the glass.

But I’m not ready yet.

I should clean the long red hair from the mats.

But I won’t. Not yet.

But I filled up the cavernous hole you dug

at the back of the house.

I wish I could fill up the cavernous hole

you left in my heart.

Good dog, Beau. Good, good dog.

This poem is copyrighted and is not available for copy or print or publication in any form without my written permission.   TP