the old dog.
the one
in all our family photos,
the oil
painting of him
over the mantle.
the one we buried ceremoniously
in the back yard.
the twelve
year old dog that
we all loved.
we miss his bark, his muddy
paws,
his whining at the stove,
and table.
his wet cold nose.
we miss the way
he slept
beside us,
the way he fetched the ball,
the way
he rolled over
and sat on his hind legs
to beg.
this new dog,
he's just not the same,
he has some big shoes to fill.
he's on the clock,
even
at six weeks old.
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