Lost Dog - June 5 2026

 

Lost Dog

June 5 2026

My neighbours’ house burned down.

There was no one home.

Friendly, but not friends,

we would say hello

exchange pleasantries

occasionally lend a hand

— as I recall, when their dog was lost

I locked my keys in the car.

The firefighters, all volunteers

raced there from their jobs,

but could only rake the ashes

to make sure it was out

and salvage what they could.

An all-wood house

burns fast.

When you lose everything

overnight

except the shirt on your back

life is reduced to its essentials

and a year of hard work.

So I think about fire

take extra care.

Think about neighbourliness, as well.

About proximity

  — which, I admit, can be both good and bad.

About reciprocity

and helping out.

And about the distance I tend to keep.

Because the volunteer brigade

with their old pumper

and hand-me-down gear

don’t live nearly as close as me,

and the people they help

are total strangers;

yet it seems they’re better neighbours

than I’ll ever be. 

The morning after

we stood outside the caution tape

standing shoulder-to-shoulder and hand-in-hand

  — too close for comfort, if you ask me —

looking on

as the cleanup began,

mourning the dog

who couldn’t get out.

Did I say no one was home?

Because someone definitely was.

So gut wrenchingly sad

to imagine her 

madly scratching at the door,

her family gone

and all alone

in the acrid smoke.

The trust,

the love and loyalty

of a good dog

we often don’t deserve.

The lost dog

I can only wish

could have run away once more.

As autobiographical as I ever get. No elaboration. No glossing over my flaws.