The Day the Dog Died

The Day The Dog Died The very day her dog had died ; she sat alone and cried and cried. He'd been her companion for many a day ; she thought he'd be there when SHE went away. She wept and wept all through the night ; somehow, her husband would make it all right. They got in the car and went to the pound ; she, so discouraged, just looked at the ground. "Pick out another", her old husband said ; "You have to face it, your boy dog is dead." Then the old lady walked slowly outside ; tears rolled down her face, she wanted to hide. Up rambled an old dog, a female was she ; crawled into their car, as bold as could be. The dog sat patiently waiting there ; not moving a muscle, going nowhere. "She just picked us out !", the old lady cried ; "I thought I'd have no friend till' the day I died." Now both the old girls sit in a chair; discussing the world and going nowhere. That little dog had a very sad past ; now, she has someone to love her, at last. She's given the dog a name, Dee Dee, she listens intently, her chin on Mom's knee. They pass the long hours being together; in rain or snow, through all kinds of weather. So, if this is a "dog's life", lucky is she; there's just not a better place to be. Perhaps they will leave on the very same day, for, to each, there is no other possible way. I think of them often....they'r gone from this earth; I'm nearing her age and I not nearly her worth. Although. three little dogs sit on my bed; listening and playing and tilting their heads, at each and everything I say; like it was important in some sort of way. I understand the importance of each little creature ; to someone, somewhere, for they are the teachers.