The Neighbour’s Dog

Feb 2 2012

The neighbour’s dog

died last night,

at home

on a soft blanket

in his usual spot.

Hard breathing

dwindled, then stopped.

He was old, cantankerous

we never got along.

But still, it’s sad

I can feel their loss,

imagine my own beloved dog

abruptly gone.

How we love our pets

and how unworthy this is thought,

compared to all the other loves

that fill up our lives

and try us.

But we understand

the indomitable bond

between animal, and man.

They somehow scraped away

at the frozen earth

crusted snow,

and placed him in a shallow grave

marked by rocks.

A modest plot

in the shade beside the house

where a lifetime of pets
are buried,

letting nature reclaim

what’s left.

We will never know

the cause of death.

No heroic measures

were taken

at the end,

to salvage an extra day

a precious hour.

We are merciful with our dogs,

dispatch them with dignity

terminate their suffering.

Act like the compassionate God

we deny ourselves.

The end of life

is hard.

Even an old dog

who is blind and deaf

and in mute distress

leaves a scar on our souls.

But in  the spring

a puppy will appear,

or so I’m told.

We shrug off

sadness and loss

and carry on.

Not a replacement, of course

but a needed start.

And when he comes

all of us

will feel years younger.

The way an old cantankerous dog

adjusts to a new pup,

whose joy

is contagious.

Up, and running

as if he’d discovered

the antidote

to age.