a warm voice
when you enter the door.
the tail wagging in joy.
how sad
it is. and yet
how kind, to let them go,
to hold them
as they've grown old,
gone blind.
the muzzle white.
no longer
jumping onto the bed,
running up the stairs,
chasing whatever
it is that thrills them.
but it's time.
and with it goes those years.
those nights.
those days.
a life well lived
and loved,
impossible
to not shed tears.
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