Sean Dietrich wrote a post this morning on his blog “Sean of the South” (http://seandietrich.com/). Sean writes a post every morning. Judy Lewis Gray, as mentioned before put me onto Sean’s posts. i thank her again. Sean sends me his post each morning in an email to which i subscribe. i don’t know how he comes up with the stuff he comes up with every morning. i read them. Nearly all of them tug at my heart strings. The resulting music is enjoyable, soothing for the soul.
Sean’s post this morning was entitled “Dear Sean,” a letter from a fifteen-year old sad boy about his dog dying. Sean wrote of his own loss of a best friend. It made me recall my sad moment. When i went to find an old post with a poem about my friend Cass, a wonderful Labrador, golden in color, who was more part of me than just a friend, i discovered that old post had also vanished in the great website provider disaster several years ago.
So for “fifteen and sad,” Sean, and everyone else who has had to put their dog down, here again are my thoughts on Cass leaving me:
Cass Done Gone
a part of my soul left today.
the stubborn, ole cuss of a lab was more me than him
i worshiped the way he defied the world
until it no longer mattered.
some people told me
i would know when it was time.
i did not believe until
that silly old dog told me two nights ago and
told me last night it was okay.
he has been my mirror, my dreams, my soul
i could tell him me like i can tell no other.
i am not ashamed of crying, feeling lost.
my granddaddy would scoff:
it isn’t the way it was back then.
there is an emptiness in my soul.
i am really not sure i’ll recover.
yeh, the pain will go in time;
the emptiness will be covered by events passing by,
but the hole will never be filled,
he was one of a kind to me.
he was me
he is gone.
i will bury his ashes at the top of the hill behind the house.
you can see the beach where he body surfed;
you can see the trails where he ran with abandon,
scaring hell out of coyote, rabbit, possum and birds alike;
if you turn around you can see the home he ruled
welcoming unknown people as if they were long lost friends;
taking on all dogs who foolishly entered his territory:
the doberman, the big shepherd, and all other intruders
stood clear after one encounter .
my feet feel cool now.
for most of his life, he would lie under my desk,
while i read, contemplated or typed with
his head resting on my feet.
the silence is awkward:
even in his sleep, he would grunt, wheeze,
kick the walls, chasing something in his dreams,
run sweet dog again;
pant with delicious tiredness after chasing the blues away;
scan the field with those keen sparkling eyes that
always read joy to me;
catch the next wave to bound into the bubbling surf
shake the misery with the salt wetness
from your coat of gold;
lick the face of someone
to give them unmitigated joy.
goodbye, sweet Cass.
goodbye, you joyful part of my soul.