Green Eyes Staring For a Thousand Years
I buried my dog today,
Again,
For the third time.
I had named him Zombie, a puppy with green eyes and wild grey fur, staring at me from the dog pound cage.
First time, when he was two years old, a car hit him, and did not stop
But Zombie stopped
Dead.
And I buried him under the ash tree.
Next full moon, he came back, scratching at the door, whining
I almost jumped out of my skin
After a half bottle of whiskey, I gently patted him,
Knocking off the dirt and grass and dried up ash leaves.
He ate a whole can of chicken chow, and lay down to sleep in front of the fireplace, warming up.
Three weeks later, the garbage truck that he was chasing, crushed him against a fire hydrant.
He looked happy, and I buried him in the same grave under the ash tree, but a little bit deeper this time around.
Next full moon, the scratching and the whining, and the whiskey spilling out of my shaking glass.
He lasted a whole two months, and then a cop chasing a thief shot my pup accidently, right between the eyes.
The grave?
Well this time, I dug down 6 feet, and placed a granite bench on top.
Full moon is here in three days, and I need to get more whiskey.
And chicken chow.
Copyright © Stuart Ackerman | Year Posted 2015
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