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  • Dead Dogs (This poem is dedicated to all who ever had a dog as a best friend)

    2009 - 11.08

    Nobody ever told me of this day

    Not Dad, Grandpa, Grandma, Tedd.

    I remember the day I brought you home

    You a black lab puppy could fit in a shoebox

    On the way home we both realized we were psychic

    And that was how we spoke when we were alone from that point on.

    I asked you what you wished to be called and got the distinct impression “Maya”.

    I was called a good Dad, for I raised you with much love and attention

    Instinctively, you understood what I wanted and I could trust you.

    You were with me all the time.

    When I went to work and traveled all the place hardly ever home

    I counted on you to watch my wife

    But then that made you a dog

    My relentless pursuit of money made me forget us somewhat

    As I was too busy to deal with the “Pets”

    I am so sorry for this Maya

    I thought she was family

    But she betrayed both of us.

    And then so quickly came your dying days

    Cancer, gets us all in the end

    It was 4 a.m. in the morning, you’re getting ready to go…… breathing hard

    I was right there with you holding my best friend of 14 years

    Then you died.

    No I thought as wrapped you in your favorite blanket

    No one ever told me that if I loved animals

    I’d be carrying dead friends to their final resting place my whole life.

    I don’t think I can do this again.



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