Who knew
that a black lab mix,
bought at the local
flea market
for a song,
could become
not only a friend,
but a brother?
I remember
him coming home
the day he joined
our family,
his tail
nearly the length
of his whole body,
and his paws
built for longer legs.
He grew and grew
until no flip flop
or sock was safe,
and no squirrel
rested easy.
Eventually,
he developed a habit
of sleeping in my bed,
deciding quickly
that the middle
was the coziest spot,
unless of course
a leg of mine
still had circulation,
or my chest
was devoid
of fur-borne tics;
in these instances,
he would snuggle closer
to rectify the problem.
As the years passed
and I was home
less and less,
he started sleeping
next to my parents’ bed,
serving as a watchdog of sorts,
sounding a thousand false alarms
which had to be immediately
and thoroughly investigated
while my mom or dad
stood half-conscious
at the back door,
waiting for his arbitrary return,
an act signifying that all was clear
and that those within the homestead
could rest easy,
his nonchalant entrance
communicating that no thank you’s
were necessary.
Gradually, as white fur
crowded around
his dark nose,
our family realized
that he was entering
a new stage of life,
a weaker one,
a painful one,
one where, even with help,
he was not able
to do the things
that had once filled him
with joy.
After months
of deteriorating health,
my sister and I
took our furry brother
on a wagon ride,
heaving him into place
so he could once again
see the sights
and smell the smells
of long-forgotten trails.
It was not long after
that ride
that Colby,
my friend and brother
of many years,
whose fur dried the tears
of my youth
and whose ears heard
my deepest musings,
left this world,
finally able to rest
his tired legs,
finally able
to get that wonderful sleep
that I so often denied him
while we fought over my bed.
I would gladly give
many nights of sound sleep,
countless pairs of flip flops,
and drawers of socks
to have him here again,
to wrap my hands
around his velvet ears,
to press my forehead
into his soft face,
and to tell him
I love him
one more time.
