Squirrel Killer

You were right about Ruby, Sweet Lu.

She is a tough little dog.

After years of chasing,
she caught a squirrel.
brought him to the steps of the porch
--shaken dead.

Later, I went to get the shovel to bury him,
but upon my return Ruby was out back,
and i had to search for her conquest.

From the wood chips I could see a squirrel tail pointing skyward.
Ruby had buried her prize squirrel,
but couldn't get it deep enough
to conceal the tail.

Or did she want to display it like moose antlers?

I don't know about Ruby: squirrel killer, hunter, pet?

Maybe some day we'll teach her to fetch
--like you, Sweet Lu.

Losing Things

Do you ever lose things?

I've seen you hunt for a tennis ball,
but you do not obsess.
You give up and go to your pillow.

Not I.

I've spent a total of 14 years,
three months,
three days,
and three hours so far
searching for lost stuff.

How could I be so dumb as to have misplaced that
check, wallet, watch, keys, phone slip, notebook,
tape, ring, knife, toy, blanket, glove, sock, medicine bottle,
paper, book, hat...

My idea of heaven is a pile of my lost stuff
--a lot of good it will do me there.

Better to think I'll ultimately find all the answers
to my most perplexing questions

--like how much do dogs know?

What Breed is God?

If God is a dog, what breed would He be?
A Jack Russell Terrier-
small, yippy, and fierce?
Or a Labrador Retriever, with patience like Job:
compact, strong, majestic, able to retrieve
the most troubled of souls?

As a kid, I had two images of GOD-AS-DOG:
The German Shepherd, Rin Tin Tin-brave, powerful
and independent.
The other (my secret hope), a Collie, like Lassie
or better yet, the Martlock's dog, Laddie who was
gentle, nurturing,
with hair so abundant you could use her
as a blanket
or a pillow.

Friendship

Lucy, I want you to know I apreciate our-long-term friendship.
We've sustained being buddies for 13 years.

But you're by no means my longest lasting friend.
I keep my friends for a long time.

You've taught me so much about friendship.

When you greet an old friend, they have no doubt about
your love for them.

And you never forget someone you've befriended.
Even if you've not sniffed someone for years,
you greet them with the same level of enthusiasm
as if you'd been on vacation together for weeks.

So let's celebrate our friendship.
You are absolutley my best canine buddy.

Hearing Loss

Did you ever notice, Sweet Lu, how we can see lightning flash
with our eyes still closed?

How sometimes we hear no thunder after the lightning?

Oh, I'm sorry, Lu,
I forgot that you might not be able to hear the thunder
at all-
the vet told us you're losing your hearing.

To be deaf, such a loss in May.
No morning doves singing.
No frogs croaking.
No gentle rain falling.

Knowing you, Lu, maybe you've discovered new sounds.

Can you now hear trees bud?
Grass grow?

Perhaps you hear the
heartbeat of God.

Don't Leave Yet

You gave us a real scare, Lu,
You go to the vet for a rabies shot,
collapse,
and your heart stops.

Frantic calls to experts at the vet school at Michigan State-
we learn you were just so scared, you whole system
shut down.

You made us encounter the unthinkable-
someday soon you will die.

I never lost anyone close to me.
I don't know how i will take it.
I know I will miss you terribly.
I know Ruby will prove some consolation, but
I will cry,
I will hurt...

I can think of no profound ending for this poem,
except to say I love you.

(When I say those words to you, you don't seem too moved.)

(How about a cookie instead?)

(Now we're talking!)

Forgiveness

Lucy, You are honest and true.

You never resort to substances to cope with the exigencies of life.
Nor do you swear,
attack,
watch porn flicks,
cheat,
lie.

Sure, you steal a bit of food when no one is looking.
You may not be perfect, but you are an inspiration to those of us who seek relief from
cheap thrills,
deceits,
and manipulations.

Nor are you self-righteous-a particularly unpardonable sin.

And you are so forgiving.
Oh to be able to forgive like a dog.

Maybe Jesus,
who was said to forgive someone seventy times seven,
studied your species for inspiration.

One-Pointed Attention

Lucy, I envy your one-pointed attention.
Never seeming to do two things at once,
how do you get everything done?

I learned long ago to do several things at once.
My parents taught me through example:
Dad could
sit at the dinner table,
eat,
read the newspaper, always the funnies first, and
carry on conversation all at the same time.
Mom always listened to the radio and glanced at
the mirror, no matter what else she was doing

I can't help but
read while I eat,
read while I use the bathroom,
listen to the radio while I drive (and drink coffee),
glance at the newspaper when I talk to someone,
drink coffee as I do therapy.

Do you get distracted, too, Lucy?
Do you fantasize about your pal Remington while
playing ball?
Do you dream of bones lost and balls found while
you hold a sit-stay?
Do dogs worry about
death,
vision loss,
hearing loss,
incontinence,
cancer,
poverty?

Who is going to take care of you in old age?
Will you experience doctor-assisted suicide without
even asking for it?
Where are you going when you die?

Or are you always here in the present,
alert to the opportunity for,
food,
the chance to go for a walk,
for someone to pet you?

Teach me one-pointed attention, Lucy;
I long to be here fully, too.

For me, being fully present is tough;
I may be in one place, but my mind is often somewhere else-
in the future,
in the past,
in daydreams-just not here.