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