Buster
I remember feeling
your paws tackling my legs
as I walked through the house.
Size, for some reason,
didn't matter in your playful world.
It was as if I were a giant
that deserved to be felled
as I grabbed milk from
the fridge, or sorted through
mail on my way to the living room.
I also recall your gentle nature,
the way you'd stay completely still
when I held you with one hand
while opening the front door,
or the way you'd curl in my lap
as I typed on the computer.
It's these pictures of your
short life I choose to hold.
Not how we found you
on the street...where your
playful childhood came to an end.
This giant will miss your brave tackles.
Buster (c) 2010 by Vincent Lowry