Here's a different dog, from a different time. A dog named Sue. We grew up together from my age of 15, to thirty years. She was my first hunting dog, and my, how we hunted -- and trapped! She became expert on ducks, geese, pheasants, quail, coyotes, coons, muskrats, rabbits, deer, skunks porcupines, chukars, grouse, ---
When her time was up, I was far from ready for it, and far from town and any help. I wrote a bleak and brutal poem about it, and might as well share it on this thread. A least I know that I'm among kindred spirits. I hope none of you have been in this spot, or ever will be.
Old Dog
I sit on the ground, cold and wet. She lies in my lap.
Tears fall to the ground warm and wet.
Eye to eye, hand to heart, we can't go back.
The gun at our side rests cold and dry. My curse, her release.
Oh how? Oh why?
A BARK! Not her's - and her pain is over.
Blood soaks in the ground, the last of a life.
We sit on the ground, Her and I.
Old Dog runs free.
I stay and cry.
jdscholer
View attachment 1176117
View attachment 1176118