My Old Dog

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She is 17 years old,

How many dog years is that?

She is grey around the muzzle.

Very little body fat.

Chicken carcass fills her skin,

So fragile and so weak.

Blind blue opaque eye,

Her temperament so meek. 

She sleeps stretched out,

Small brittle arthritic bone.

She twitches as she sleeps,

Time left now is life on loan.

She sleeps so soundly,

this warm summer day.

She wakes to nibble,

No desire to play.

Cool water wets her tiny face,

Lapping softly like a fawn,

quietly drinking in elderly grace.

Once a puppy all bouncy and bright,

Licks and kisses and childhood wishes,

Now so close to angel flight. 

Beloved Ellie, my tiny mite.

Your going to sleep is a day I dread

Please don't leave me. 

Don't be dead. 



◄ Baby

Medication that's what I need ►


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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tue 20th Jun 2017 12:16

Superb: honest and heartfelt. And so well written! A delight to read.

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