You’re not an old doggy yet
But I know eventually you’ll start to gray
I remember when we first brought you home
all you wanted to do was sleep and play
You were just 9 weeks old, so tiny but growing every day
Now your paws have gotten bigger,
and your zoomies fill the hall.
You are still chasing toys and wagging tails,
though you don’t seem quite as small.
You greet me every morning,
With those bright and loving eyes,
A loyal friend through all the years,
A bond that never dies.
One day your steps may slow a bit,
And silver may touch your face,
But no matter how the seasons change,
You’ll always have your place.

In quiet rooms, your barks fade,
A shadow left where memories wade.
A battle fought with weary grace,
Now emptiness fills your gentle space.
Time moves on, yet still I grieve,
For every moment I can't retrieve.
Though cancer stole what I held dear
I love you still

The snow is thawing on the field
its white perfection turning brown
as mud and sleet become congealed.
The snow is thawing on the field
and ochre footsteps are revealed
from Milley’s paw pads pressing down.
The snow is thawing on the field
its white perfection turning brown

A dog of curly black, puffs of white from it's lips
Followed in a tether, two folks of kin washed in a dew lit sun

On the road outside
Of the fence
The Border Collie hears
The call of the
Doggies
On the inside

Enclosed behind
The wooden fence
The Alaskan malamute
The Drever, the Poodle
Bustle the edge of the barrier
Bark, bark, bark
A cacophony

Let us out
Let us come with you
Pledging to obey,
The Collie
On hind legs
Of a towering stature
Lifts a paw
Finds the latch
The gate creaks open
Uncorking in celebration

They run in gleeful circles
Hounds to escape artists
Unbound and free from tyranny
Of a heartless master
Marking their new territory
Of tree trunks
Sidewalks and fields

Have you ever seen
Such jubilation
Mirth and gaiety
Wagging their tails
Like helicopter blades
With gail force glee

They take off
Like upside down rain
Up, up, up
Every which way
Friends forever
Boundless canines
In search of the next
immured pooch who waits
For the musketeers

Miley and I walk down the street
      ignoring the cannabis scented clouds:
      she stops – sniffing every urinated message,
      occasionally leaving a reply.

My dog passes the laughing gas canisters,
    polystyrene boxes and broken glass
    searching for discarded bones, bread and tissue paper
      to eat, rip or claw.

We stroll through the park
      once yellow smiling daffodils grin brown and withered.
Squirrels multiply – fecund rats in the trees,
      Miley too slow to control the rodent population.

Despite urban desolation
      look harder:
        see the green canopy
            grass, birds,
              sometimes even a butterfly.

The world isn’t dead –
      we still have time.