Tyson
Your flesh is gone now, your pains no longer an issue
Your hobble upon three legs no longer a guilty pleasure
Your personality no longer obtainable
Your breath no longer sea_like
Your pattering paws upon laminate no longer available to witness as a pitter patter behind my lonesome soul
Following me to all corners of my world
Tyson your eyes are no longer there oozing warmth and compassion just to compete for my lunch
My love
My smiles
Yet you still loiter, your warmth your soft yet sharp fur which pierced my skin, more than once
Your yelps which pierced my heart a few times
Your eyes gazing out at me at the vets as you bravely stood your last battle
Gazing up at me
Proudly desperately
Expressing in your last moments (before that dreadful medicine wiped you out and rested you forever)
Saying look at me, my best friend the one who will betray me in my last few years (steal them from me)
I CAN STAND! !
In my basket, in the vets, just before you become my hang-mans noose
I can stand, like i havent in months
(Needle in......)
Death slipped so slowly as you gazed up at me and fought, fought to stay alive, fought to breathe, fought for my cuddles, fought to still be here, fought for seventeen minutes the bravest battle your executioner ever had to sit and embrace
Your flesh is gone now
Yet
You will always haunt the one who adored you, who had to make the choice for you that thankfully, hopefully she will never make again
xxx
RIP little dog
A magnificent dedication to a loved friend and companion. The ambivalence of euthanasia to end the suffering or to keep alive for him still suffering or to go and us suffering more. The executioner is friend and betrayer as one, the duality of love and a carers deadly entrusted choices. Love was perpetual in this relationship to both parties and yet Tyson of bones and images from days past lives on, imbedded in your swelling compassion and this most fitting and honest tribute.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My dog is named Petals and the day anything like this happens to her it will be a sad day. The poet brings out her fondness for Tyson in a gentle absorbing way and keeps us reading right down to the end. As a poem the strengths are in the conversational tone she has used, as if, Tyson was till alive and slurping around with his big beady eyes. I have to appreciate the Poets sense of observation and affection for this pet.