I’m lucky to have many companions… naturally friends and family, followed by books, pictures of past dogs, coffee, newspapers, the internet, a bit of that Sunday morning feeling every day of every year…
Though non-materialistic, I do value those things. Big time.
If I were to choose though, I’d pick my late dog Wolf before the books, coffee, newspapers and the internet. He was my lifeline, my joy, my refuge and part of my soul. Sadly departed in 2006, still on my mind today. Giving up on him I do not take lightly…
He is my dog, by Gene Hill
He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds;
my other ears that hear above the winds.
He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea.
He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being;
by the way he rests against my leg;
by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile;
by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him.
(I think it makes him sick with worry when
he is not along to care for me.)
When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive.
When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile.
When I am happy, he is joy unbounded.
When I am a fool, he ignores it.
When I succeed, he brags.
Without him, I am only another man.
With him, I am all-powerful.
He is loyalty itself.
He has taught me the meaning of devotion.
With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace.
He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant.
His head on my knee can heal my human hurts.
His presence by my side is protection against my fears
of dark and unknown things.
He has promised to wait for me… whenever…
wherever – in case I need him.
And I expect I will – as I always have.
He is my dog.
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