“You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed.”
from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince
Though he yapped and whined,
I still loved him so.
He was my dear friend.
He'd turned old and blind
when we let him go.
How can my heart mend?
Written 10/15/14 by Andrea Dietrich
For the Design Your Tableau Contest of nette onclaud
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
The old man sits in his chair by the door
His dog lies beside him curled up on the floor
Ever since that day when the man lost his wife
that dog had, to him, been the whole of his life
With his constant companion through all those long days
he'd sit in the sun enjoying its rays
It seemed like for hours the old man had dozed
A faint smile on his face and his eyes tightly closed
The dog licks his hand and emits a faint whine
and looks up at his face as if for a sign
but the man doesn't move, just continues to smile
so the dog lays back down on the floor for a while
The dog gets its ball, lays it down at his feet
but the man takes no notice, just stays still in his seat
He nudges the ball as if he were saying
"What's wrong with you, why aren't you playing"
Then, as if in acceptance, the dog quietly sighs
and looks up one last time with adoring eyes
The dog keeps his vigil through the night 'til next day
ever since, that sad morning, when the man passed away
Copyright © Rob Biden | Year Posted 2014
Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”
Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”
One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But there, to his surprise…
Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.
Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”
Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.
Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed.
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.
Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he‘d come on the double.
Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray,
“Lord, let this day be my last.”
For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one evening,
Pal quietly passed away.
Bob held Pal in his arms and wept.
“Oh, Pal…my best friend…you saved my life.”
He caressed Pal as he reminisced;
Then, sometime in the night, Bob joined his wife.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought fresh flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….
Stood an old dog beside the stone,
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place.
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then, turned and licked her face.
She smiled through her tears.
“I had a dog when I was young...
A good one too. His name was Pal.”
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Many years have passed me here
Sitting on this old mat
Like a speeding train
None of who have passed, never looked back
The rising sun
Has chased away the morning dew
And many time I wondered
Why my friends are so few
Hot days give way to the evening mist
Who will be by companion tonight?
I dread when the evening cometh
The wild dogs and I will fight again
Copyright © Dennis Williams | Year Posted 2015
All these years
a hook of the leash
tail thumping against the floor
a splash of happiness out the door--
But the morning's heart is dashed
watching him sleep
when I leave
5/20/15 Submitted for Nette's Contest: "Septet II"
By Carrie Richards
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015
Who would believe your slim elegant body would win my affection,
when you gracelessly step on toes? Your soft doe skin of cream
spotted brown, floppy ears I threaten to turn into gloves as a joke.
Through many chain jangle calls for walks where you race and lunge
and bark fighting for the right to be with me, how could I turn you away?
When you almost die I am ready to give you away to death, hating the sick
green puke, you become skinnier despite the surgery until finally
one simple shot brings you back to us alive, slurping our hands and faces.
Busy days of science and humanities and government tucked up in a chair,
I forgot you, but you begged let me even eat your apple. let me sit in your lap
but you’re so big now you don’t fit and don't like apple. Chocolate chips cookies, though, a whole batch scarfed from the table and then you wiggle and wag tail,
snarl, your teeth clenched when I offer just one more. We all know who is guilty,
not you, your innocence, your steadfast defense, says it is our family who has forgot.
Finally, it is too late. You hurt too bad, spine enflamed, barely able to walk
or eat. Tomorrow your last day. I pick up the chain, you race happy to join me
down the row of maples losing their last autumn leaves, where my brother and I lead you plodding like an old man, stopping to breathe, and I see stars in my eyes,
saying goodbye. Goodbye to the lady of our family, the Dalmatian Duchess
who loved us best, walked beside us through our childhood days like a guardian.
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013
Our little dog is getting old,
a poodle black as night
or so he was when just a lad
but now he’s almost white.
He follows Joan around the house
he’s not the one to roam,
if she goes out and leaves him there,
he cries ‘til she gets home.
He is a sprightly little dog
’though age has made its call,
he’s nearly deaf and almost blind
so now runs into walls.
I hope when I’m as old as he,
in ‘human terms’ I mean,
I’ll still be bouncing full of joy
as our dogs always been.
So take a moral from our dog
however old you get,
if you let old age slow you down
it’s you who needs the vet!
Ivor G Davies
Copyright © Ivor Davies | Year Posted 2015
The end of the day splays on my window sill,
Complete with soft rays from the setting sun.
To cause long shadows from an old oak tree,
To be painted on my shirt home spun
Night creeps in at its own pace.
The windows open, feeling a cool breeze.
My dog Sam and I rest in our cabin's space.
Sam with a bone, me with a beer, crackers and cheese.
Today has been calm, us just setting here,
Watching the quiet movement of another day.
Through our window saw a passing deer.
Sam barked once or twice, deer had nothing to say
Night falls dark and stars brightly shine.
Some covered by clouds from a North prevailing wind.
A chilling fog could cover the coastline,
And keep all the fishing boats locked in.
I may fall asleep sitting right here.
With Sam my companion and friend.
Hope when we wake in the morning the skies clear.
So Sam and I can do it all over again
contest.Inside my head old poets only
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2015
A puppy I know who is now grown up
has a mature look and a fluffy look
She smiles and grins and shows your
It's wonderful to see such a grown and mature
puppy that is the way I see! Thank You for reading
my true story of a puppy
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2014
When I was little, I didn’t know what it was like to have a pet
Until the day my parents decided to bring Peanut home
I remember it well, out of all the dogs we saw,
Peanut was the one who stood out
A newborn puppy, so cute and innocent,
We knew she was the one
She had those sad puppy eyes,
And we saw that she had already had an effect on us
At first, she didn’t know what to think of us
We were strangers to her
Her first night, she was shy, a little bit scared,
But then she realized we were her family
In her younger years, she had such a playful spirit,
One that would make you smile
When one of us would come home from school or work,
Her energy of excitement exploded with happiness
What really made her happy was eating
She would want to do that all day
There would be times when after a long day
She would sit in a patch of sun that came in through a window
She loved the warm feeling of the sun when she rested
It always felt good to my parents and I,
When she would curl up and sleep right beside us,
Never leaving our side
Peanut was always very protective of us and her home,
Anybody she didn’t know, she would bark at until they went away,
Or until she got tired of barking
However, if the person she didn’t know had food with them,
They were her friend all of a sudden
Peanut was someone who had completed us as a family;
She made us happy—our first family pet
She was someone you could talk to, and she would listen
Many years with her, and we created so many good memories;
Ones that would make us laugh or make us smile
As the years went by, she started showing signs to us that she was getting older
Age ten, she started slowing down, her face became grey
Despite old age, there were some things that didn't change,
Like her wanting to eat or wanting to be with us
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
Instinct And Old Age
Young dog that wanders not
From the launch of dream filled
Moon call howls, it answers not
Sleeps alone, in carpet fields
Threads of grass and dreams of young
Rabbits, cushions, long green
Drapes on windows, memory lost
While widow wilts
Copyright © William Blair | Year Posted 2015
Sounds of a baby’s cry echo through the room for salvation
As an old man hums in his head to ease the humiliation
He feels a volcano deep in his soul
Ready to slowly blow
As accursed bowels churn and burn
Never feeling hunger or thirst
Frighten for the moment it will explode
He lies not alone nights,
Nursed by his companion
as he walks up to him and snuggles next to his warm beating heart
Understanding comfort is all he needs
Taking his mind off his own affliction
He has had all he can handle
Drawing breath for benediction and not abandonment
Through ceasing to be and be spared
For he hungers for the sacrament of the Word
The Fisher of the sea
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2017
Julie, was sitting by the window inside, away from the brisk winter breeze. She had just moved out west, when it began to freeze. When she wakes up in the morning, it's cold as ice there.
She thought it would be wise, being a writer, to take a little time off. She took a few sips of whiskey, to help get rid of her cough. She felt very, weary.
She dreaded the holidays, her husband Bill, had passed away. She began to weep. She never expected this to even happen. She wished she had passed away, too.
Julie heard a whimper and scratch at the door. It was wrinkles, her dog. He had white snow all over him. She went to the door to let him in. Julie then decided not to waste anymore time.
Julie decided to do a load of wash. She looked out the door, stood there to watch the wild animals. Then she figured while she had time, look too, for the movie, Star Wars.
Julie finally got the whole house cleaned, looked where the dog was, whispered, "love ya buddy" to him, "and will get through this together."
Copyright © Country Girl48 | Year Posted 2014
It was eating, drinking and sleeping, you are yearning for
I gazed at your eyes and I saw the love, I was looking for
You were a hedonist whose life was replete with fun
I was just a student whose pen always acts as a gun
You come to me as a traveller who has nowhere to stay
I felt my dream comes true since the time I say my pray
You were old enough to be my companion in this way
I start to make my life every time from night till the day
You told me that's wrong! You are not a girl I'm thinking about
I confessed myself there is something makes me dubious about
You were alone as the wrecked ship for the sea
I was the same like the bloom for the honey bee
You belonged to a wonderland, a home of dust and sand
I was much more like Alice who wants to die in your hand
You touched me once that was all my pleasure
I had no one before to give me such treasure
You left me soon as the moon for the sun
Just tell me how broken feet can go to a run?
You know it when you have the next girl in your bed
How unfaithful you are, I've had your name in my head
You were lost yourself in the world of the fog
I come to see my dog is loyal than your hug.
Copyright © Elaheh Abdi Langaan | Year Posted 2016
(This poem describes my having to put to sleep
my first dog, some eight years ago.)
The worse day of my old age
was not hearing from my doctor
that I had cancer or that I would
be dead in a few weeks.
That would have been good news.
No; it was putting my dog,
the best friend of my old age,
to sleep, and feeling his small
body sink in my arms as
the weight of death filled
and settled in his small frame,
the brightness in his eyes
diminishing and receding
into the depths of his body
seemingly too small
to accommodate so vast
an eternal darkness.
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2017