Elegy for a Bitch

seventeen years
a dogs life
but time and waste
health wasted
eroded by time
by wear

they say dogs don’t know
can’t know

she hated that vet
always, but never
feared him
until today
her final as her

he shaves her leg
applies the tourniquet
pokes the needle in
thumbs the syringe
slowly, very slowly
two-thirds as she
stops shaking
ragdolls to the steel
tabletop. lies still
as he applies his
to her slowing
heart, squeezes
final drops through
the needle

a discarded mop
what lies left
atop the steel table
ceased completely
dead. inert. snuffed.

such tender
mercy, her
pain over

David M Pitchford
29 Dec 2011


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