The Very Last Dog
She watched her son shovel the earth,
The still shape in the blanket gradually disappearing,
Resembling a mound of soil in a hole,
And finally the ground was flat.
She wiped her eyes and went indoors,
Her son made her coffee but had to go home.
The house was empty without them both -
There was no son to chat and no dog to pat -
And it wouldn’t change.
She feared she wouldn’t outlive another dog,
And her son couldn’t take it.
She looked at photos of dogs in the past,
All loved, but dead now.
Holding the last dog’s collar,
She knew it had been the very last.
Copyright © Jack Horne | Year Posted 2011
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