Reply Sat 14 May, 2011 07:02 am

If you weren’t litter-perfect you were close,

that day we had ‘first pick’ of all your daddy’s babies,
chubby, white and black with one white eye
you could have been a panda cub;

you were a curious dog

making eye contact with our human gaze,
not to dominate or challenge
just gentle-friendly,

you endured indignities of baths and haircuts
and never made a whine or whimper,

my buddy, my friend, I bring you to Jo-Ann.

carry you to the cemetery with the
indian name --’Quidnessett’,

and you, your quiddity now
in convenient granulated form

--like some god-angering Greek dog
transmuted into sand--

will easily slip into this hole I dig;

I think: will these granules --when rains
seep in and make your house all muddy--
stick to one another, and swell,
until you push a dirty paw up through the ground
and you come back to me from your dog heaven

or dog hell?
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