Monday, May 16, 2011


The tiny brown puppy
snuffles around your white
sock clad ankles,
miniature tail wagging hopefully
and liquid eyes cranking the neck
back to an impossible angle
trying to catch your eye
a million miles up from her perspective
on the floor, surrounded by children
begging her to look at them.

I remember that you didn't want
a dog but you patiently allowed us
to keep her after she was brought
in a box of her siblings
to us at the baseball fields
in Rexburg when you were retrieving
me from a summer visit with my cousins.
She loved you so so much
and you were her mom (and mine) even when
you didn't want to be.

Another loss mourned
she's been gone over twenty years though
I look for her happy bouncy face (and you)
every time I drive down
Dad's driveway.

1 comment:

  1. Your bittersweet emotions resonate throughout. Keep writing!


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