Britt 1990

Early this morning our little Britt died.
A good dog, suffering all the maladies
of the aged.

These last days, I struggled to force her
to take some nourishment.
She clenched her teeth, wouldn't eat.
She looked at me with sad brown eyes
and wondered why I didn't understand
that she was ready.

Her eyes were glazed over, her body weak.
Legs unable to support her weight.
She struggled for breath, half choking.
I prayed that she would go.

I told her what a good dog she was,
how much we loved her.
I felt silly talking to a dying dog,
still it seemed right.

Joe dug a deep hole in the woods next to the house.
Britt loved to play there, chasing squirrels around
the fir trees.

We wrapped her in a blanket and layed her down to rest.
We covered the grave with fir boughs and made a cross
out of twigs.

I hope there is a place for Britt to play
Open fields for carefree runs,
rabbits & squirrels to chase.

Britt gave so much and asked so very little.