Four-Legged Children

Amid all the excitement of my first novel’s publication, I’ve also been dealing with the reality that two of my four-legged children were preparing for their final journey. There was a time when I had six (2 cats and 4 dogs). Samantha, my Calico kitty, was the first to pass, so young as compared to the others. A few years later, Smoochie Woochie, my black lab, battled Addison’s Disease -- a non-painful affliction that required medications to keep her electrolytes in balance to prevent her from dehydration. The vet said it would be a miracle for her to live two years with Addison’s, even if I did everything right with her care because dogs, and especially labs, are emotional beings and high emotion, both positive and negative, can throw off the delicate balance of sodium and potassium in the body. Miracle of miracles, Smoochie Woochie lived three years after her initial diagnosis; yet, nine years after her death I still mourn her loss. Last year, after 20 years of life, Dijon Pretty Kitty left me mourning once again. Her passing left me with three remaining four-legged children already advanced in years.

Unfortunately, my two eldest dogs, Grunt and Sheba, both of whom were 16-years old, are no longer with me, having left this world on the same day, September 7, 2006. Grunt dealt with food allergies the last few years of his life, but once I learned what he had to avoid, most of those problems fell away. However, since late July, he lost so much weight (even with eating multitudes of food) that he became frail and the vet believes that cancer was the culprit. Sheba, on the other hand, had hip problems that finally stole her vitality. Now I have one child left who is 15-years old but I am fortunate that Wolfie enjoys good health.

Below are a few poems I wrote this summer about my four-legged children. Perhaps you have experienced similar events in your lives.



There is Never Enough Time

Two plus four minus one left five,
four-legged children –
one feline and four canine.

Never to have two-legged offspring,
simply wasn’t in the tarot cards.

Life for our four-legged kids
rarely exceeds a few years at best.
Many say one should be happy
no matter the time clock,
satisfaction has no guarantees.

You raise them,
nurse them,
teach them some manners.
They love you,
heal you,
teach you humanity.

Like a child, they quiver at thunder,
marvel with newfound pleasures or toys,
want only to be a part of your life --
family, is what they are not a possession,
not chattel –
mutual friends, confidants and protectors.

Was two enough with Samatha, the first to have passed?
No, Gods no!
Oh, how I miss how she’d suck on my hair,
thinking I was her mother!

Was seven enough time with Smoochie Woochie?
No, Gods no!
I still agonize over her loss and miss
how she’d sing for food or steal it off the back of the stove!

Was twenty enough time with Dijon Pretty Kitty?
No, Gods no!
Oh, how I miss how she thought she was a dog,
how she’d sleep with her head
inside the mouth of her canine brothers,
using their tongues as a pillow!

Will sixteen be enough time with Grunt and Sheba? Or however much time I’ll have with Wolfie?
No! It won’t be, but I have no control
over when their clocks wind down.

I’ll miss Grunt’s grunting and his
traipsing in and out of the doggie door as if on speed.
His days are running out and I mourn for him already.

I’ll miss Sheba’s calm demeanor that suddenly
reverts to her alpha pack-leader conduct.
It pains me to see Wolfie taking over her job,
Sheba does well just to stand on all fours of her own accord.

I’ll miss Wolfie’s seal-like stature,
his expressions, and the way he was always my shadow.
Wolfie, the only one of my three
remaining four-legged children who enjoys
good health and many more days before his
clock winds down.

Two plus four minus one left five,
Less two leaves me with three right now –
four-legged children,
but mine all the same.
Gods! There is never enough time.


8/20/06


Black Death


Black fur peppered with gray,
lying there like lumps of clay.
Anxiously I ask, ‘Are ya’ll okay?’
Cautiously, approach and pray --
‘Ka please, please! Not today.’

Darkness advances with the break of day.
Eons of love, more than I could say
and cherished memories of how we’d play.
Thank You Dear Lord for taking away
his and her black futures with another delay.


8/28/06


Mercy’s Needle

After sixteen long years, shortened by perspective,
heart wrenching decisions came pounding at the door;
one emaciated, the other saddled with hip pain,
both well beyond their breeds’ usual life span,
yet neither seemed anxious to leave this world behind.

Perhaps they knew how much I’d mourn their loss,
thus fought to stay each consecutive day.
Though both reached their sweet sixteen,
in their world they were closer to one-hundred-twelve.
Old Man Time took his pound of flesh and bone
but until then couldn’t rob them of their desires.

Looking in their eyes,
they related their new longing – release.
Mercy’s needle impaled two veins,
loving intonements chanted in whispers,
trying to remain calm for their benefit
as I watched their spirits lift from
their worn-out shells
paw-in-spiritual-paw
to frolic on another plane of consciousness.

Lump in throat,
tear streaked cheeks,
guilt filled my breaking heart
that I hadn’t made the decision earlier,
having waited until they asked me to let them go.
My mourning period now truly begins.

With all my love,
Rest in Peace Grunt and Sheba
and show each other the way.


9/7/06

.