Here is a poem I wrote when Zoey passed on, which I have now edited to include Franny's passing.
Zoey
Franny
When the old dog dies
I will no longer have to step carefully over her sleeping form
As I rise from bed and feel my way to the toilet in the dark.
When the old dog dies
I can take the ratty old blanket from off the couch
where we sit for hours watching classic movies and eating popcorn.
When the old dog dies
No one will insist I go for walks twice every day
And no one will pull me out the door into rain, into snow, into blistering
August heat.
When the old dog is gone
I can eat my meals in peace and quiet
And not have to share bites off the edges of my toast.
When the old dog dies
I can take the beach towels off the car seats and vacuum out all the
fur and return the the van from a rolling dog house
Fit for human passengers again.
When the dog finally dies
I can put fancy cheeses in the refrigerator drawer that now
houses two pounds of raw, four-meat canine blend from the butcher shop and and
a variety of half-chewed bones.
When the dog is gone
I can go to the mall all afternoon and maybe even take in a movie
Without wondering how she is doing home alone.
When the old dog has gone
I won’t have to search for missing shoes
she has carried from the closet and stashed in odd piles about the
house.
After the old dog dies
I can sleep until noon if I want to
And no one will jab me with a cold, wet nose over and over and over
again until I give up and get out of bed.
After the old dog is gone
I can get dressed in peace
Without her barking and dancing in happy circles as if my life’s
purpose was to take her out for a stroll or a ride in the car.
How much quieter, roomier, cleaner the house will seem without her constantly
by my side.
