Good Dog

Baxter came to visit us,
full of summer’s daring
his last day. He darts
into the gate. We know
he’s been in pain but he
responds to freedom,
anytime. I remember how
he’d bounce his spots
around a football field.  

Today, Allie’s face
is strained with tears.
Gary’s busy, taking care.
He drives away so she
can sit with him and
whisper calm into his ear
and touch his living fur.

Fourteen out of fifteen years,
she said they knew
they only had him for a time—
and still, he jumps canoe into
the water, bounds off through
the woods and runs his chase
alone, for hours. They give up
paddling around the lake,
hollering his name, until
he comes crashing from
the underbrush, back home.

18 thoughts on “Good Dog

    1. Rae Cobbs

      Thank you for your kind words. And thank you for reading, too. It’s better to have had a dog like Baxter, and miss him, than not to know him at all. Oh, but it is hard. Condolences and good memories to you.

      Reply
    1. Rae Cobbs

      Yes, and how our sympathies are alert in these “dog days afternoons!” Even if we all manage the best comfort we can, these are hard times, wearing. Dogs are partners in this.

      Reply
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