On Losing the Old Dog

It’s bad enough the car is empty
No panting navigator
But the house is empty, too

Dog empty, anyway
Cats don’t fill the same spaces

So we stumble to the bedroom
Seizure-soiled and shocked
By the sudden expected loss

Six months of grasping last gasps
New medicines and doses, new emergencies

Years beyond the playful toss and fetch
Leashed by arthritis, deaf and blind
The old dog had withered to mostly heart

We had withered with her
Miserable in our indecision

Hobbled by her pain
And ours
Holding on for dear life

Now gathering the cold grief
Of losing her too soon, the hot guilt

Of letting go too late, the hopeless
Clutter of responsibility and love
The empty hours ahead

by Rae Spencer

Rae on Twitter: @raespen_

Editor’s Note: Some poems speak directly to the heart. This is one of those poems.