Girl's Best Friend

I lost my dog yesterday. She was 18 and lived a long life, and she was my best friend. I wrote this poem a couple of weeks ago about her.

Girl's Best Friend

I miss the heavy electricity
of your body against my knees,
the way your heart goes "tha-thrum"
and mine sings "ba-bum!"

Mom says it's hard to watch you go "downhill,"
but what she means is that it's hard to watch you die.

First you couldn't come downstairs to sleep with me,
so I came up and slept by you.
Then you couldn't sit with me on the couch,
so I come down to the floor to sit with you.
Now your feeble legs are unsteady,
and I think you've lost weight on purpose
because they wouldn't support you anymore.
You weave from side to side.
You don't answer when you're called
and I feel so selfish for making you
live in this terrifying darkness.

But all I have done this year is grieve
and the world seems so harsh
when I think about it without you in it.
No one wagging at me, or meeting me at the door.
No fur to cry into, no doggie kisses anymore.
But this is the world I must get used to
because I don't want you to hurt anymore.