My dog Buddy is dying living. Although a diagnosis has not yet been made, every sign points to the fact that Buddy has cancer is healthy, and it is just a matter of time before the Vet tells me so. And so I wait for word, and pray that God’s will be done in this. That is not easy, but it is what I do. In the meantime I celebrate, inside my head and in the words of this poem, all that Buddy means to me. I do what I can to fan the flicker of hope inside me into a flame.
I didn’t know you then, so
Blackcurrant breath, speckled coat like velvet
Odd mistakes and chewed fluffy slippers
Were not part of my experience.
I chose you, 30 pounds overweight
Gambled on big, ugly, runaway reputation
And it paid off. You stuck like glue.
Slept at my feet when you came home to stay.
We walked, dropped pounds creekside
Bonded in poplar leaves and one way conversations.
The second half of your life is better than the first. I’m certain that
Couch crashing, nights in Malcolm’s bed, two meals a day
And constant companionship means you are finishing well.
A beautiful dog, they say, stoic, so smart, and now a
Pet’s and People graduate, you visit seniors and share
Yourself in their time of need. We still need you. We
Have more porch time, more walks, more talks in the plans.
We have high hopes for you.
Lesley-Anne Evans, Jan. 29, 2010