And wondered what was within that bag.
Then he was born, so soft, so tiny,
A little life I could not snag.
She said, “He’s part of our pack,
You’ll guard him, love him, never stray.”
We played together, ran the track,
And laughed, and sprinted our way.
One day, while walking, he went still.
Helpless, I barked with all my might.
Sometimes I hate the dog I am,
I howled and barked that dreadful night.
They took him to the hospital room,
Two weeks went by. He returned so weak.
I stayed beside him, filled with gloom,
I never left him, day by day, and week by week.
I knew the demon would come to claim,
But first he’d have to pass through me.
I braced myself for fight and pain,
And waited tense for what would be.
On his last day he whispered low,
“I’m not afraid.” His courage showed.
He stroked my head, so soft, so slow,
Then drifted gently down life’s road.
The next day, I lay by the open door,
Watching him carried out of sight.
I clutched his hat, his smell I wore,
His shallow breath still in my mind.
I felt the brush of his small hand,
The quiet stir of fingers near,
A whispered word I thought I heard
And all at once he seemed still here.
The room lay still, like held-in breath.
A dog stares toward the open door,
The afternoon, so calm as death.
Nothing moves —
And because of that,
Everything is gone.
02.12.2025
