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Let me tell you a story, a story of woe:
a tale of a pup who got lost in the snow.
Daughter Laura, our eldest, came up to see us,
drove home in a Jeep (to rhyme, insert Prius).
She and her niece, my granddaughter Marion,
had come packing heat; see, Laura was carrying.
With Laura’s two dogs for added protection,
they’d come for the weekend: a joyful collection.

On that fateful day, when they all arrived,
they drove in the driveway a little past five.
I went out to greet; Marion opened the door:
A fateful decision, about that, there’s more.
See, she’d been told to get Lem’ on a leash:
A simple request. Understand, now? Capeesh? 
The pups both hopped out; I saw they were loose.
Lyra stayed close; Lem was off like a goose.

I rushed to the house to get the door open;
Laura pretty much freaked, yeah, not really coping.
Miss Lyra was waiting, and went on inside,
but Lemony ran in the bushes to hide. 
From there, crossed the lawn and into the street,
ignoring our pleadings and all our entreats.
Then into the neighbor’s, and out to the woods;
the wilds begin there and the prospects: not good.

We spent the next hours hollering and crying,
long into the dark with no lack of trying.
But we had to call off the search for the night;
None got good sleep; all, distressed and uptight. 
We continued on Saturday, Sunday as well,
we kept up the search: a dog owner’s hell.
Out in the morning and calling her name;
back every evening, doing the same.

Sunday night came, and Laura departed,
leaving dejected and sad, broken-hearted.
I promised that I would continue the search,
not wanting Lemony left in the lurch.
Leaving her lost seemed to Laura so cruel,
but both she and Marion were needed at school.
Sunday night: out on the hills in the dark, 
calling her name out and thinking she’d bark.

Seeming to hear a dog bark in the distance,
I’d try to track down the source’s existence;
Howling coyotes and owls all around,
but no signs to Lemony there to be found.
Monday, I made trips to the shelters in vain;
Tuesday and Wednesday, I did it again.
Sometime that week, we got a big snow;
a gnawing bad feeling just wouldn’t let go.

I drove and put signs up around all the woods,
and basically did everything that I could. 
Dejected, discouraged, heart-broken too,
I really did not know what else I could do.
Nighttimes were windy and bitterly cold;
I feared for the worse, if the truth would be told.
The thought I hated most, as the days rolled on,
was calling my daughter to say she was gone.

We’re late in the week now, some five or six days,
I can’t quite remember; it all seemed a haze.
Coming home from the shelter, I stopped at the store,
brought the bags in the house, dropped them on the floor.
Needing both hands, I did not shut the door,
and went back to the car to load up some more.
I came back in the house, and guess who is sitting
right there in the kitchen, all muddy and dripping?

I darn near dropped everything in my surprise,
and things got all watery around the eyes.
Sitting there hugging that dog and full bawling,
voice cracking, “Lemony, Lemony,” calling. 
Her harness has rubbed; the poor girl is bloody;
Her pads are cut up and her feet are all muddy.
But I can call Laura, that we’re reunited,
and that is a phone call that has me excited!

—————


For the Form N - Narrative - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Subject is 5. Pets
Written on 04/16/2022
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