06-27-2015, 12:48 AM
Like a Dog (#4)
Unlike people, dogs don’t have to linger.
When they grow old and lame, we step up
to carry them in. Hard as it may be,
we meet their eyes with our own, softly
call their names, and offer a comforting touch,
holding on as they’re gently put down.
My sister would rather have died like a dog.
A timely, kind hand could have spared her
when cancer finally closed in, catching her
all alone. It crept in
silently as a spider, baring its hideous fangs-
curved needles that dug deep inside her.
Without the simple kindness afforded a dog,
at the mercy of darkness, she lingered.
Like a Dog (#3)
Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to linger.
When they grow old and lame,
we step up, hard as it may be,
to offer a comforting touch
as they’re put down.
My sister would rather have died like a dog.
I wish a kind hand could have spared her
as cancer closed in, caught us off guard-
her all alone- the spider crept closer,
baring black fangs, curved needles that dug
deep inside her.
Without the kindness afforded a dog,
trapped and tortured, she lingered.
Like a Dog (REV 2)
Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to linger.
When they grow old and lame,
helpless and broken, we hold up,
offer a comforting touch,
as they’re put down.
My sister would rather have died like a dog.
I really wish she could have
had a warm hand to guide her,
kept cancer from catching her
all alone, its spider-like fingers
disguised by the shadows.
Unlike a dog,
my sister had to linger.
Like a Dog
Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to suffer.
When they grow old and lame,
helpless and broken, we hold on,
talking slowly, weeping softly,
as they’re put down.
My sister wanted to die like a dog.
I really wish she could have
seen one more smile, heard a good-bye,
kept cancer from catching her
all alone, dragging her down
its hideous hole.
Unlike dogs,
people have to suffer.
Original:
Done With Dogs
I’m done with dogs. I was done even before
I told my son we weren’t getting another. I knew better
than to fall for begging, but we know how that goes.
Before I knew it, there I was, again, walking
a damn dog, feeding him, and taking him to the vet.
Always trying to find somebody (anybody) to dog sit
so that I could actually go anywhere for more than a day.
But there I was, stuck, walking in the rain, with a
gnawed on umbrella, and freezing in 5 below, wearing
chewed up gloves, and muffs with one ear missing.
And yep, that was me, out on the trail those summers, dragging
at 95 plus, while the dog got to cool off in the creek, then
track mud all through the house. What a dumb-ass
I was. I even bought those stupid doggie toys, just because
the dog loved to open things. It seemed to help keep him
out of the trash can, by giving him something else to tear apart.
The only problem is that the back yard is now full of holes
where legless clowns and headless monkeys are buried.
At least he was easy to please. The same old thing always
seemed new to him. Maybe that’s why he always had to tag along.
A simple run up to the store? Didn’t matter. Gotta go.
Why do dogs act like a dumb car ride is some great adventure?
His favorite was the vet. Other dogs. Cats. All that attention.
But, oh my God, the vet bills. Of course, there was no doubt
who would pay those, or who would be the one to clean up
the shit when his hips gave out. I knew I’d have to be the one
to carry him to the vet. What about my hips? My back?
How is it that dogs just keep right on smiling, even when
they’re not able to walk? Lord were those vet bills expensive.
I’m sorry. They just got too damn expensive.
You have your own place now, son. Just because you’re going
on vacation, doesn’t mean you can drop off that three-legged
fuzz ball, with the floppy ears, and full moon eyes, at my house.
I’m done with dogs. So stop the begging...
Unlike people, dogs don’t have to linger.
When they grow old and lame, we step up
to carry them in. Hard as it may be,
we meet their eyes with our own, softly
call their names, and offer a comforting touch,
holding on as they’re gently put down.
My sister would rather have died like a dog.
A timely, kind hand could have spared her
when cancer finally closed in, catching her
all alone. It crept in
silently as a spider, baring its hideous fangs-
curved needles that dug deep inside her.
Without the simple kindness afforded a dog,
at the mercy of darkness, she lingered.
Like a Dog (#3)
Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to linger.
When they grow old and lame,
we step up, hard as it may be,
to offer a comforting touch
as they’re put down.
My sister would rather have died like a dog.
I wish a kind hand could have spared her
as cancer closed in, caught us off guard-
her all alone- the spider crept closer,
baring black fangs, curved needles that dug
deep inside her.
Without the kindness afforded a dog,
trapped and tortured, she lingered.
Like a Dog (REV 2)
Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to linger.
When they grow old and lame,
helpless and broken, we hold up,
offer a comforting touch,
as they’re put down.
My sister would rather have died like a dog.
I really wish she could have
had a warm hand to guide her,
kept cancer from catching her
all alone, its spider-like fingers
disguised by the shadows.
Unlike a dog,
my sister had to linger.
Like a Dog
Unlike people,
dogs don’t have to suffer.
When they grow old and lame,
helpless and broken, we hold on,
talking slowly, weeping softly,
as they’re put down.
My sister wanted to die like a dog.
I really wish she could have
seen one more smile, heard a good-bye,
kept cancer from catching her
all alone, dragging her down
its hideous hole.
Unlike dogs,
people have to suffer.
Original:
Done With Dogs
I’m done with dogs. I was done even before
I told my son we weren’t getting another. I knew better
than to fall for begging, but we know how that goes.
Before I knew it, there I was, again, walking
a damn dog, feeding him, and taking him to the vet.
Always trying to find somebody (anybody) to dog sit
so that I could actually go anywhere for more than a day.
But there I was, stuck, walking in the rain, with a
gnawed on umbrella, and freezing in 5 below, wearing
chewed up gloves, and muffs with one ear missing.
And yep, that was me, out on the trail those summers, dragging
at 95 plus, while the dog got to cool off in the creek, then
track mud all through the house. What a dumb-ass
I was. I even bought those stupid doggie toys, just because
the dog loved to open things. It seemed to help keep him
out of the trash can, by giving him something else to tear apart.
The only problem is that the back yard is now full of holes
where legless clowns and headless monkeys are buried.
At least he was easy to please. The same old thing always
seemed new to him. Maybe that’s why he always had to tag along.
A simple run up to the store? Didn’t matter. Gotta go.
Why do dogs act like a dumb car ride is some great adventure?
His favorite was the vet. Other dogs. Cats. All that attention.
But, oh my God, the vet bills. Of course, there was no doubt
who would pay those, or who would be the one to clean up
the shit when his hips gave out. I knew I’d have to be the one
to carry him to the vet. What about my hips? My back?
How is it that dogs just keep right on smiling, even when
they’re not able to walk? Lord were those vet bills expensive.
I’m sorry. They just got too damn expensive.
You have your own place now, son. Just because you’re going
on vacation, doesn’t mean you can drop off that three-legged
fuzz ball, with the floppy ears, and full moon eyes, at my house.
I’m done with dogs. So stop the begging...