My oldest son had to have his feisty little rescue dog, Veruca, put down today. He said “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.” As a Dad (who also loved and appreciated her), I’ve had a surprising amount of sorrow. (Even now, it’s hard to post through all my tears). These poems reflect my feelings.
Why No Dogs
My son,
now a dad,
has to put down
his good old dog today.
Now I understand
why I,
as a dad,
never wanted to have dogs
when my kids were growing up.
Saying goodbye
is just
too damn hard.
=========
Dog Gone Hidden Crying
If I go take a/
shower no one can see the/
sad tears I’m crying.
=========
I’m Proud of You, Son
We all can avoid/
doing what we should./
It takes a real man/
to do the hard things.
Or, in haiku form:
We can all avoid/
doing what we should. Only/
real men do hard things.
=========
Not What I’d Wish For Any Dog
His dog was put down./
All said: “Rest” In Peace, but that’s/
not what I’d wish. “RUN!“
I once had been her/
first outreach and comfort. It’s/
hard to not be there.
There are women who/
feel heartache even as they/
make men’s hearts take flight.
Am I the only/
man who drowns his sorrows in/
root beer and cheddar?
Just when you think you/
can’t get any more heartache,/
you learn that you can.
Don’t think me silly/
or not caring. Sometimes I/
must laugh through the pain.
Please be gentle and/
kind with me this morning. I’m /
in the throes of pain.
The sole positive/
about heartache is that it/
prompts intense muse growth.
How can you make me laugh
in the midst of romance?
How can you take the cold, clammy fear
in my hands, feet and forehead,
and turn it into emotions flaming up
from deep in my heart?
How can you take my tears of pain
and, in a few words,
make me weep with joy and relief?
How can you make me miss you so?
How can you hold me
and rock me gently to sleep
with just a few typed or spoken words?
How can you, with the skill of a cardiac surgeon,
open up my chest
and expose all my innermost hopes,
dreams and feelings…
without hurting or scaring or bruising my heart?
How can you, when my heart aches
and when butterflies dance nervously in my stomach,
reach across the hills, lakes and rivers
and apply soothing balm,
calming the butterflies
and soothing the aches?
How can you make my brain remember
every nuance of your scent,
every wisp of your hair,
every touch of your hand,
the feel of your skin,
your curves,
your breath?
How can you do that?
Frag’ nicht warum.
Sei einfach froh,
daB es ist so.