I burst into tears
at the sight of pizza on the counter.
There is no longer danger
of your nose sniffing out a snack
your tongue stealing it with sneaky swipe.
Your bright eyes no longer follow me.
Your tail no longer wags in joyful greeting.
I am bereft
that food is safe
but you are gone.
One year to the day after we had to put down our miniature poodle Dusty, we came home today to find our dear, sweet OJ, (Kimelle’s Optimum Jive) bloating from gastric torsion. I rushed him to the vet where he died in my arms 10 minutes later. And so my prophecy came true. In one year I lost my 3 old men: Dusty (16.5), Dad (100.75), and OJ (15.5). Be careful of the words you speak.
I gave OJ this ghastly hair cut last weekend, and saved the hair to spin and felt. What a melancholy, precious task that will be, when I can bear it.