Poem for Dog Lovers

           Hello. I've been expecting you for quite some
           time.
           Here, come sit beside us for awhile .
           and let me tell you about this old friend of mine.
           She might look tattered or maybe old
           But I won't say goodbye until you've been told.
           She had the brightest eyes I had ever seen,
           And wore a beautiful fur coat that would out
           shine a queen .
           She was never prissy but walked with an aire ......
           And oh so polite, you could take her most
           anywhere.
           She could run like the wind and could catch
           anything she chased
           But she protected and sat with me when I had
           problems to face.
           You could not find a friend nearly so dear.
           Because no matter the trouble she always stayed
           near...
           She has never asked for much from me;
           Just to love and respect her and I think you'll
           agree .
           To give her a good meal plus a nice warm bed is
           not much to ask ;
           When she has given me all her love and to her this
           was no task.
           Now I understand you have a schedule to keep.
           But I have a small favor before she nods off to
           sleep.
           Please fold your wings around her and let her feel
           young while in no pain ;
           Dear Guardian Angel of Pets ,
           please keep her safe and happy until I see her
           again.
           Ginger Patton

Do They Know?

Do they know, as we do, that their time must come?
Yes, they know, at rare moments.
No other way can I interpret those pauses of his latter life, when,
propped on his forefeet, he would sit for long minutes quite
motionless-his head drooped, utterly withdrawn; then turn those
eyes of his and look at me.
That look said more plainly than all words could: "Yes, I know
that I must go."
If we have spirits that persist-they have.
If we know, after our departure, who we were-they do.
No one, I think, who really longs for truth, can ever glibly say
which it will be for dog and man-persistence or extinction of our
consciousness.
There is but one thing certain-the childishness of fretting over that
eternal question.
Whichever it be, it must be right, the only possible thing.
He felt that too, I know; but then, like his master, he was what is
called a pessimist.
My companion tells me that, since he left us, he has once come
back.
It was Old Year's Night, and she was sad, when he came to her in
visible shape of his black body, passing round the dining table
from the window end, to his proper place beneath the table, at
her feet.
She saw him quite clearly; she heard the padding tap-tap of his
paws and very toe-nails; she felt his warmth brushing hard against
the front of her skirt.
She thought then that he would settle down upon her feet, but
something disturbed him, and he stood pausing, pressed against
her, then moved out toward where I generally sit, but was not
sitting that night.
She saw him stand there, as if considering; then at some sound or
laugh, she became self-conscious, and slowly, very slowly, he was
no longer there.
Had he some message, some counsel to give, something he
would say, that last night of the last year of all those he had
watched over us?
Will he come back again?
No stone stands over where he lies. It is on our hearts that his life
is engraved.

John Galsworthy

Go to more Poems