A Poem for My Little Dog

I let you out in the cold20190130_162729

January rain to pee. Instead,

you disappear around the house.

The rain is steady,

I assume you are eating

cat shit under the eaves.

I call your name, “Zuzu!”

and you trot to the house,

carefully, steadily,

your head high and a

soup bone gripped tight

in your teeth.

The one you buried in August.

I wish I had your recollection.

I honor it, I do.

But the bone is going in the trash.

Here, have a Greenie.