Just a Dog
She was just a dog, my Sassafras,
The only one of the litter who looked like her mother, long and lean and fast.
She was just a dog, my hollow-dog,
Pat her on the side of the ribs and she sounded like a loaf of bread fresh from the oven.
She was just a dog who followed from the front,
And stood in the way and didn’t come when she was called unless food was involved.
She was just a dog, all skin and bones,
Who shivered during thunder storms and shook the bed and barked at the wind.
She was just a dog who liked to sleep between
So we called her sandwich-dog because she was the filling at night in bed.
She was just a dog, my Sassyfrassy,
Who would wait at the front door for me to come home even when Pa was home.
She was just a dog, a worry-wort like me,
Who told me when the microwave dinged or the cat was where it shouldn’t be.
She was just a dog we called jack-rabbit
Because she could jump as high as the fence, but never jumped over it.
She was just a dog who loved to ride in the car
And feel the wind in her nose and barked at everything she saw.
She was just a dog who thought she owned the world
As far as she could see or smell and had to protect her people from everyone, everywhere.
She was just a dog who got old
After sixteen years of being my faithful, loving companion no matter what.
She was just a dog who loved me.
She was just a dog.
For Sassafras, March 6, 2010