Daily Walk
Jan 27 2010


We outlive our dogs.
So there is a succession of pets
— Zephyr, Blackie, Skookum —
who somehow take the place
of the irreplaceable.
Gone
but not forgotten.

The mercy is
they have no knowledge of death.
While we suffer, too aware
as big brown eyes gaze up at us
trusting.
And we honour them
with a swift
and painless one.

We need death
to give life urgency, meaning.
And these condensed canine lives
are that much more precious
intense for it.
They teach us
about life in the moment,
the purity of motive,
the folly of ownership
— all those valued possessions
so eagerly chewed up.
And about being true
to our essential nature,
as they are to theirs.
Loyal creatures, all,
who love
unconditionally.

I can only hope
a dog is there for me
when I, too, approach the end.
But I suspect
she will not be very helpful.
Because we humans revere ourselves
far too much
to let our own
be painless, and swift.

I will arrange for her to be cared for.
Where she will awaken each day
impatiently waiting,
excited by our daily walk.
Because to her, we are all immortal.
And she will, of course
— as she’ll have done each morning
since I have gone —
forgive me for being late.