shadow at my
Your blind eyes no
longer help you pick a ball out of the air
leaping four times your height
cookies tossed at your mouth
now bounce off your nose.
Your sore hips
aren’t stable enough
for you to beg
or roll over
But still you follow
whenever I leave the room
attached to my ankle
just to be beside me,
my little brown
When this little brown poodle pup came to live with us, his name was MacBeth. As a family we debated whether to call him Dusty (after the Dusty Strings harps, since he’d be the only Dusty I could afford) or Shadow. He became Dusty, but he was always Shadow.
I’ve grown old with and outlived three poodles and two Yorkies. I identify with this poem so much. Beautiful shadows, I loved them all, and currently have an older Chihuahua and a young Chihuahua.
I grew up with poodles, too. Our two boys are 14 (OJ the standard) and 16 (Dusty the miniature). My (human) father is 100. I suspect I’m going to have a really horrible year in 2 or 3, when all 3 go one after the other.
Yes, sounds like that is the case. I am reading a book this week called “Proof of Heaven” by Eben Alexander, M. D. It is a fantastic story of a neurosurgeon’s journey into the Afterlife. Pick it up if you get a chance, you will find wonderful images of Heaven inside. Jeanne Marie
My shadow is 70 lbs. of drooling boxer. I couldn’t ask for better. Thanks, Shawn, for this.
My pleasure, James.
Bounce of your nose lol
Oops. Do I have a typo to fix?
Its me with the typo. I just found it funny
The love of a real friend. His for you following you about, yours for him in the poem.
xxx Massive Hugs xxx
You’ve just about made me cry Shawn, thinking about some of our little shadows that have now moved on
Thank you for the compliment.
Man’s best friend..dependable
Indeed, though neither of our other poodles felt the need to be so close at our heels. He’s gotten himself locked in the garage many times, the pantry, under a mate’s bed (behind the drawers!)…
Waoh! What an adventurous poodle.. You surr will miss him when he goes to doggy heaven..
Yes. Hopefully we will have a few years, yet.
We (me and my children) wrote Japanese death haikus when our beloved English Pointer (Sir Archibald Wisdom White) had to be put down…and he sat up until the injection…and a more beautiful fall into total release I have never witnessed. We wept in sorrow, in gladness, and imagined the pipes playing as he ran into heaven…
Oh, how poignant. We were there to watch and pat our little Pepe poodle (he’s in a photo on my About page) as he was put to sleep. My husband didn’t understand why I insisted on being there, but I was adamant that it was part of my duty as his owner. It was awful because he dug the hole in the back yard before we went to the vets, and Pepe was curious about it, sniffing around it.
omg Shawn…our Archie dutifully watered all the bushes and sniffed all the trees and made (very very) half hearted attempts to bark at squirrels, while we walked him there…
Sweet Archie. I remember hearing the story of one family who were taking their old dog in, but still very uncertain whether it really was “the time.” They took him into a field across from the vet for him to romp, and he had a heart attack while running about and died in the field.
Our old guy’s eyes told us. He was in constant pain and so grouchy with it. No romping for him on his last day. Just a loving departure.
I love it! You’re very talented!
Oh so adorable….I used to have a blind dog too….what a terrible match for my husband who loves to rearrange the furniture constantly.
Oh dear. Neither of my boys is completely blind, but they’re losing fine detail for sure. Dusty is always looking at me, but he used to be able to snag tossed little bits of food unerringly, and now he can’t see them
When I read a lovely dog poem, like this one of yours, I am always reminded of Rudyard Kipling’s “The Power of the Dog.” The bond with a dog is unique in the universe.
This melts my.heart
Thanks, Julie. 🙂
My girl will be 9 soon and for her – 1/2 Akita and 1/2 German Shepherd is getting up in numbers. She is beginning to have trouble – sometimes a lot more than others – getting around, which makes it a challenge. She is a tripod with a front leg missing and we live in 3 story townhouse. But we love her to bits and I I know that I cannot think about the day she leaves. I simply cannot. I know a huge part of me will go with her, especially since she is an intimate connection to someone I have already lost.
Ah. Heart dogs. They are irreplaceable.
We have a similarly stoic and loving dog – are there really any other kind? Her name is Lulu. She was an abandoned spoodle who’s been with us for 12 years. I call her ‘God’s perfect creature’ in private moments since we shouldn’t judge animals on the basis that they can’t know or choose to act badly, and thus get less credit for their good character than they deserve. They are what they are and deserve as much credit as the best of humans. All the best for your devoted ‘Dusty’.
Thanks Stephen. All be best to Lulu!