There's something in the eyes of a dying dog
that speaks of awareness, something beyond
the pain, weakness, and the dimming.
Perhaps I read more into those eyes than was
actually there - but I really don't think so.
the dying dog’s
. . . winter’s leaves
His dark brown eyes had grown larger, fathomless,
as deep as a well holding all the mysteries of life
and impending death, eyes at once sad but knowing
he has been greatly loved and will be greatly missed.
Isn't that all any of us could ever hope for?
after walking my dying dog –
a rock in my shoe
For my beloved dog Little Bud, who died of cancer - gone, but as they
say, not forgotten.