Poem

Dog Emeritus

Photo by Pavel Anoshin on Unsplash

I’m not sure when my dog retired.

Was it before
or after
his eyes and ears got rimed with frost?

I guess it was around the time
he stopped getting up with us in the morning.
Choosing instead
to stay in bed
awhile longer
and get up when he’s good and ready.

Or before he began to hold
that back left foot up off the floor.
Arthritis in the hip.
Or lameness in that ankle
from that infection
all those years ago.

But still he climbs the stairs
each day
like Kilimanjaro
and insists we keep our doors open
so he can go from room to room.
Keeping tabs on us all.

And still he guards the door
from the invasion of the Amazon man.
But he can bark very well lying down,
thank you very much.