enough

her dog,
blind, deaf, a greyish roll
of fatted flesh
and fur,
tumbles
down the steps.
unhurt.
he shakes it off
and goes towards
the light,
the thin veneer of his
blue eyed retinas leading
him to the balcony door,
he bumps his head
into the glass.
there he lifts
a leg onto a shoe
and pees, then
finds another corner,
a sand
box to finish things.
it's a long
day for the dog.
a long night for the both
of them.
neither quite ready
to say enough.