Tail of a White Dog
We
met you
on
a sunny day
at
your home
in
the forest.
You
greeted us
at
the car
barking,
smiling,
wagging
your tail.
I
sat on the grass and
you
climbed into my lap.
The
ranger said you were a nuisance.
The
vet said you chose wisely.
We
brought you home,
all
of us nervous yet excited,
not
really knowing how you�d
get
along with the rest of our dog family.
You
made yourself at home,
selecting a chair for your own.
We
named you Jeff,
after
your forest, Jefferson Memorial
but
it wasn�t long before we
started
calling you by a name
both
simple and noble,
White
Dog.
Your
fur was so white
it
nearly sparkled
and
so did your eyes
as
you chased balls down the hall
your
tail spinning in circles
like
a propeller.
You
sat in our laps for hours,
nudging
us whenever we quit
petting
you.
So
maybe you were
a
bit of a nuisance.
Whenever
you got excited
you
let out a single, exuberant howl
and
we gave you the late command to �Sing�
hoping
to teach you
to
howl on command.
Although
we tried
your
whole life,
you
had your own agenda
and
never sang unless
you
felt like it.
After
eating, you used to
rub
your face on everything in sight
like
a celebratory gesture,
a
display of your fulfillment
and
you put on weight
like
the rest of us.
Even
as an old dog,
you
kept your enthusiasm,
sprinting
through the house
after
being let inside.
Over
the years
we
shared so many memories
walking
along the river,
opening
doggie Christmas presents.
You
lived with us at
two
different houses
and
accepted
three
different dogs
into
your home (with
only
minor complaints).
At
some point, your mind
started
to leave us
but
you still
had
your own agenda.
As
your once-fluffy and white tail
grew
dingy and sparse with fur,
you
hung on.
As
you lost weight and grew
more
blind and deaf, you hung on.
Even
as we knew the time had come,
we
all hung on.
We
watched and waited,
hoping
you�d leave on your own
but
you didn�t.
On
the day we put you to rest
you
stared at me and I tried
to
understand your feelings.
You
licked my arm but I hadn�t
seen
you wag your tail
for
a very long time.
After
making the decision,
the
vet agreed it would be cruel
to
take you back home.
We
were with you at the end,
watching
you take your last breaths
still
hanging on, clinging to life
much
longer than you should have.
Your
stubborn will understood
the
value of life, of living.
As
the grief passes,
we�ll
remember you smiling,
playing,
a beautiful White Dog
howling
at the moon.
