One last meal: egg over easy, with chicken, on kibble.
(No need for the meds now.)
One last walk: just down the block,
with stops for sniffing, on deeply arthritic legs.
One last petting: surrounded by four lovers
inhaling the scent of fur mixed with tears.
Last remembrances of her glory days:
Swimmer of alpine lakes
(Would be) mass murderer of gophers
Chaser of rare snowflakes.
So many more …
With the vet’s arrival she growled
But relaxed with our soothing
and the vet’s sedative,
Soon snoring, eyes open, with a rhythm we’d known for 12 years.
Then she was gone.
This article appears in The Cannabis Issue.