Fuzzy Dog

There’s been a death in the family; thousands of brains cells expired overnight. I mourn them of course, think about them, wonder if they miss me, over there wherever neurons go when they blink out. I don’t feel dumb yet but I will have to test myself regularly. This poem may be the first experiment that disproves my theory that we have far too many brain cells. I once had a dog with only three legs, he never seemed to miss the fourth. At the time I thought he could even lose another leg and still find ways to hop around after a thrown ball. How do I know I lost those cells? There are fuzzy patches maybe it’s just a passing fogginess. Maybe I will bounce back, or on the other hand I might start chasing rubber balls. Anyway, I’ll keep writing, I don’t think poetry requires intelligence, at least no more than your average plucky three legged dog.