For Mugs

He's gone now. He is dead. There is a hurting in my head. I listen for his bark, his whine. The silence answers. He was mine. I taught him all the greatest tricks. I had a way of throwing sticks So he could catch them, and a ball We bounced against the backyard wall. I can see him, chasing cats, Killing all the mountain rats, Drinking water from his water bowl. There's a place he had a hole To bury bones, but now it's gone. His footprints fade upon the lawn. He used to snuggle on my bed. But now he's gone. He died. He's dead.                            ~Myra Cohn Livingston

Back to Poems

I put this up dspecially for my frinend, Justina and her family, because one of their dogs, Joey died.