My hand was buried in her long black and white coat
She had speckles on her muzzle
Like tiny flecks of mud
Her eyes, chestnut brown
Hiding behind a grey lens.
She smiled, as she always did, her tail slapping the floor.
Slower – this time.
She didn’t spring to her feet like she once did,
Knocking me over as she span round in circles.
Her body was weaker now.
I stroked her, brushed the knots from her thatch.
She watched me without moving.
I felt her slipping away.
She had a lifetime caught in her fading heartbeat.
Her love for us unspoken,
It was felt with a nuzzle, her nose wet against my hand
A paw scratching my leg
Tongue hanging sideways from her smiling mouth,
Eyes wide screaming…
Run, Run with me!
Moments, stitching us together like a patchwork quilt.
So cosy and warm.
Quiet moments in the wilderness,
Scattering crows on the beach,
Rough and tumble.
Tears and tender touches in the quiet house,
Lingering on ‘goodnight’,
When ‘good morning’ will never come again.
Each clod of Earth feels heavy.
The stones and roots below will become home
I cannot think of it.
Tears soak into dirt, along with rain.
Eyes, tired and sore.
Leaves decaying, the rich smell of death is overpowering.
Her body, cocooned in her blanket.
A bunch of lavender, so alive with bees in Summer,
In Autumn, holding onto their scent underground
An echo of what they once were.
A last touch of this body before it’s consumed by the elements.
Reduced to bone.
She is my buried treasure.
The ghost dog lives in
Empty spaces where she used to be.
I cannot look at her,
Yet her eyes follow me.
As I get out of bed
Brush my teeth
Drink my morning coffee,
The boring everyday things.
I catch her in the shadows
I cannot bear to look.
Faithful, as she was in life,
She waits patiently for me in her death
As I gather my scattered pieces together.
To be continued…