Who’s dog is it?
It’s the family’s dog, I laughed.
Oh? Oh, okay. Well, that’s good.
Nine years later my heart heaved.
A few hours later the cardinal came,
and I stood staring out the kitchen window
broom and dustpan in my hands collecting all your hair.
and my heart heaved.
We lay on the floor with you
on the couch
on the floor
on the couch
on the floor with you all the hours of the end of your life
and I didn’t know
and I knew
and I didn’t know
and I knew it was the end
and my heart heaved
and I was scared.
And we all loved you in our own way
in your life and in your death
we all loved you and you were our family’s dog
for sure. But when it was your time and you breathed heavy and hard at the end
something changed in me.
Riding in the passenger seat, my stomach tight and my eyes swollen,
and my chest heaving, I spoke:
I guess she was my dog – and I didn’t know
and she was my dog and I didn’t know
and I didn’t know and
I
didn’t
know.
I was always yours.
And you knew.
Generous Wisdom | Spacious Heart 