Pamela Ann Frances Crane

Dogs - Poem by Pamela Ann Frances Crane

Old Kos is gone
Shadow of Bernie Rish
Long-time companion
Ate from the same dish
Drank from the same tap
Plodded the same stairs
The old black Lab
Now beyond prayers

Before he died
He would meet my eye
Press his glossy side
Against my thigh
Patient he would stand
Unable to tell
My listening hand
Where to make him well

So Kos has gone
And Suky quietly killed
By a vet’s injection
When I was unskilled
- at ten - in taking care
Of my Terrier and Dad
Let her run everywhere
Like dogs he once had

Pained I look back -
Dad’s birthday surprise
The rescue dog whose lack
Of training and wild eyes
He couldn’t handle. Years
Of boasting and bluff
Ended in shock and tears
When he had enough

No dog for me
Only the neighbour’s pet -
Tiny tearaway Sally,
Little Blossom who met
A rose-bush at a run
that blinded her, calm black
Chelsea the famous one
Who guides our Nicky back

Bobbie (a Pisces)
Our Kent Guide-dog friend
Shared her Callie’s crises
Their happy end
The smell of soft puppies
A mother’s melting eyes
Amid warm apple trees
And holy skies

And once in a while
A visitor - like the stray
Called Lady a real trial
The Lurcher had run away
Lived with us for a week
Tail tucked in eyes white
Unable to sleep or speak
For sheer fright

An aged Retriever
Came on holiday -
Christine would leave her
When she went to stay
In France, Goa, Japan,
On fashionable flights
To boost her tan
And see the sights

I loved old Amber
Didn’t mind the hair
On the carpet - fed her
Walked her everywhere
Polished her gold coat
Coaxed vital medicine
Down her throat
We couldn’t win

Old Amber’s gone
She who was nearly mine
Left me with one
Beautiful photograph a line
Or two in an old diary
Her Leo birth chart and
The moment she bit me -
Angry - on the hand.

No dog for me
No dawn exercise
Haven’t the energy
Wouldn’t be very wise
But now just a glance
At Poppy, Wallis, Betsan,
And up they dance -
I give what I can

Walking the beach
Poodles, Staffies, Springers
Strain at the lead to reach
My burning fingers
Burdened with love for them
When did it start?
Did Kent or Bethlehem
Break into my heart?

I am a healer’s wife
Touching a Dog’s Life

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 16, 2014

Poem Edited: Thursday, January 16, 2014

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