I've four of the greatest dogs I've ever owned at the moment.
Gwenn:
six years old,
finicky,
loose eyed,
Wide running,
impatient,
sensitive and tough.
Jett:
Five years old,
Prick eared and always reliable.
hard fast,
maybe a bit sticky eyed,
knows her lines,
patient.
She'd gather sheep through an artillery range,
No bother,
Sharps the word and quick's the action.
Murphy:
three years old,
head strong and brilliant.
O'deilla:
Three years old,
sensitive,
intuitive,
heads up...
and blind.
The vet described the cause of her blindness as a massive bacterial infection,
That caused her ocular nerves to swell,
and to her guessing,
made her blind within a few hours.
It's funny....
My dog,
named after the patron saint of ocular diseases....
Is now forever blind.
She is my greatest sorrow...
and still my greatest joy.
1 comment:
Hey there, Joseph. There's a poem in that descriptive quartet of canines. There's true heart, bright words, and the puzzling over pain and joy and how they are often found in the same room.
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