Voices Poem by Smoky Hoss

My dog-or rather my daughter's dog,
though I consider him mine
(and he, I'm quite sure, thinks I am his) ,
because really we are the dearest of friends-
talks to me; and of course naturally,
I talk to him.
Truly he has a voice.
Although, I am rather certain only I
-perhaps my daughter also,
though we seldom speak of this-
fully understand his language.
Perhaps it is our great mutual love for each other
-which only increases with the passing of time-
that allows this incredible communication.
Sometimes we converse at great length
about the world's deprecations, such as,
the high price of treats and
the imposition of collars and leashes.
Other times, we lounge in the lap of luxurious laziness,
that the poor-souls who are beset by the burden
of anxiety over small matters
-of which he and I have no such concern-
cannot appreciate in full the way
my dog-friend and I often do.
None of this would be possible
were it not for our mutual understanding,
and paying attention to,
the solace found in the voices
speaking to, and between, us.
We listen best, hear the most,
when we are alone together,
lying on the grass,
riding in our car, to nowhere in particular,
sitting or walking, contentedly, anywhere.
Our voices convey the peace between us.
But sometimes
-perhaps more often than I should allow myself to admit-
I talk to him when he is not there.
When he is far, far away, and I
know not where.
In those mystical moments, wherever he is,
I like to ponder the possibility that he too
is thinking of me
-and giving voice to-
my words in his mind.
Voices that carry across more miles than
separation could ever create.
Voices that go beyond the limits of
species specific language.
Voices that shall continue beyond any barriers
that time, life or death, will ever bring about.
Voices that speak to each of us
-us who hear them within our hearts-
the place where love is spoken
far beyond words,
eternally.

- For my ol' buddy Blue,
tried and true,
through and through.