William G. Womack

(Orange, California, USA)

I Called You Cajun - Poem by William G. Womack

When did we get old, old friend?
When did you first notice things were dim,
Less etched and clear?
When did our eyes need a longer arm,
Or a friendly scent to help us see?
I wonder, too, if we really walk as crisply
On our nightly jaunts.
And is the silver shining in my hair
Distinguished like your graying muzzle?
("He's an old dog," they say--Do they see me old too?)
We were not always, old, old friend.
I see you still eight weeks young,
A fluffy blend of Australian and German Shepherd.
Your brown eyes memorize my face,
Peanut butter breath makes me laugh,
We discover we both like kisses.
You stalk all moving things with your
Stiff legged jock-walk--nose twitching.
You flush out an old Tomcat
Who shows you why he's still around.
You whimper as I dab alcohol
On your bloody nose.
I wince as I dig a cat-claw from your side
You cry a little (so do I).
I teach you tricks,
You teach me love.
I demand obedience,
You return patience.
You are simple,
I am complex.
You know what you know,
I analyze what I feel.
Together many years now,
Both are teacher--Both are friend.
Thank you for touching me
So deeply, old friend.
People say the dog sees his God.
I see God in you.
You don't know it but I know,
Soon you will rest in the heart of God.
And you will live in my heart,
Old friend,
Until I cease to breathe.


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Read poems about / on: dog, friend, teacher, cat, silver, god, together, hair, people, heart, thanks, kiss



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003



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