Wednesday, January 7, 2009

[the day was one]

the day was one
which waited for snow
that never came;


the air had a chill
which would bite bare skin
and chap unprotected lips.


we stand,
watch our dog seize
and collapse. I laugh.
“Silly puppy.”


*


your words come, broken:
“He has a tumor.
Fluid by his heart.
Have to put him down.”


I think of his golden hair
and how he looks like a
giant puppy when it's shaved;


I think of his limbs
flailing out of his control
and his wild eyes


begging us for an explanation.


For anyone actually concerned, to "put him down" was the suggestion of the first vet. We took him to a second vet, where they drained his heart sac. It is this far that we can afford to take it; his heart sac filling up will have to remain an enigma, and all we can do now is hope that he isn't dying.