Running in the Sun

Just last night we said goodbye to our faithful companion of ten years. As I process this loss, I find myself capturing  moments in my mind. Colors and shapes that come out as poems as we grieve the loss of the first creature that made us a family. 

“Hi Pup,” he said, lowering himself to the floor next to his head. I moved myself there, squeezing beside my husband to gaze onto our dog’s face. His eyes were already looking beyond the room. 

The strain of breathing squeezed his body, the churn of a train. 

I stroked his grey muzzle, his faded puppyhood left behind him while running around us and chasing rabbits from the garden. 

A blue towel propped his head, prepared to catch his mess made in death. 

We stroked him

I rubbed his flaps of brown velvet as I had done for ten years. 

“It’s ok, pup. We are here. You can go. It’s ok. Good boy, Tucker. Good boy.” 

I felt his body shudder, his eyes squinting. 

His breathing stopped. 

He relaxed. 

His eyes widened, his jowls folded into his teeth. 

His body curled three times, his legs stretching out. 

His soul untying from his Earthly body. 

I saw him free, young, 

running into the sun.

A Meeting on Rainbow Bridge

The mist of Rainbow Bridge kissed against the emeralds of eternal summer. 
Sun gleamed off the muscles of a young dog, his muzzle ebony.

He came full speed, bounding into the grass. 

A mop of blonde hair waited, mesmerized. 

“Doggie!” He squealed excitedly, clapping his dimpled hands together, his little feet stomping. 

Tucker paused, nudged him, sucking his smell from the armpit, huffing after inhaling.

Family. Heaven boys smell like family. 

Tucker splayed his front legs, bowing to play, inviting a chase. 

Grass and dirt tornado as he spins, Game On.

Peels of laughter erupt as our Angel boy 

finally meets our family dog. 

One thought on “Running in the Sun

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