My Pet Poems, Woody
My Pet Poems, WOODY
Not long after our heart-stealing beauty
Watson passed, Jim drove me off from
The breeder’s and I sat in the passenger seat
With a cocker, colored a light maize/vanilla,
Cupped in my palms on my lap, while we
Discussed what to name him. He was
Our peace, to be our joy after the pain.
Alert, turning his head to note our voices; and
More comforting, like nostalgic times past,
Like a loved sweater kept for Saturday’s, or
The splendid fedora my dad kept placed just so
Atop his Chinese cabinet.
We called him Woody. It fit. Happy pup,
One dog even Jim’s mom adored, as
She offered to dog-sit and bought him
A stuffed monkey that he took 5 years to
Tear up, with only the squeaking head left.
It was playing ball that Woody loved.
Not even to walking with us in the park without
Scouring all over baseball in-fields and outreaches
For any and all balls he could find, at times
Eagerly perplexed about how to
Fit two in his moth at one time, which was
Much easier with tennis balls than softballs, but
The geometry missed him, making
Him huff laughs, while he kept trying to fit them.
Cocker’s hair grows long and, then, we
Couldn’t afford a groomer, so I’d trim him myself.
Once when he was older, I nipped him.
There was blood and I wept with apologies, until,
I’ll never forget, I learned from him on that day
About forgiveness. For he seemed to say,
Licking my hand, “What’s wrong, momma?
No harm done.” He comforted me. Not I, him.
If ever, there were a case to be made
For God sending us
Some angels in the form of dogs,
Woody was one,
Bringing love, lessons, loyalty, and laughter
— as dogs will do it — dear boy. Miss you.
Play ball!
—————————————————————————————————
(c) sally Young eslinger 2021
Thanks be to God
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