if we stopped
off at the cemetery on the way
home.
i looked at her, touched her
hand and said sure honey.
why not.
i felt compassion for her loss.
admiration for her deep feelings
that i never thought she had in her.
so we pulled in and parked,
then walked in the rain to
the gravesite.
she pointed and said there.
tears in her eyes.
i looked at the tombstone.
it said
Rex and the date of birth
and death.
a picture of a bone
in a dog's mouth was carved
into the granite.
Rex? i said. yes, she said.
one of my rescue dogs.
he died in my arms the first
week i had him.
he jumped into my lap
while i was knitting him
a blanket. a long metal
knitting needle
went right through him.
he let out a yelp, and that was it.
there was nothing we could do.
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