since first I glimpsed sweet Suzy (tri-color Chihuahua)
at the County Animal Control Center.
Recently a mother, her tiny size a contrast
to her large and shaggy cagemate,
my heart was touched.
George had sometimes mused,
"How nice to have a little short-haired dog!"
Methought, "They don't get much littler or much shorter-haired
than this trembling lone Chihuahua."
A phone call, then another visit
and she was ours.
A mere year-and-a-half old,
she nonethless was shy, subdued --
perhaps mistreated in a former home?
We'd never know.
She formed a special bond with George:
close by -- on lap, in bed, on wand'rings 'round the yard.
She so entranced us that we thought,
"Why not another tiny friend of her own kind?"
Soon one appeared, a pup just five months old,
and they became fast friends
Except when he forgot which dog came first.
(She'd quick rebuke him, and he fell in line.)
When George died, Suzy seemed to miss him,
but then seemed to adjust.
But recently her quiet mien
became a loss of zest for life.
Her doggy manners lapsed, her energy declined,
she seemed to limp and save her steps;
her tail lost its wag.
The vet looked sober. suggesting poor prognosis;
the laboratory confirmed the worst:
Sweet Sue was dying.
Each day brings more discomfort.
her independence lessens.
This little dog and I tomorrow
will undertake a journey.
Her life will end just where our hearts first touched:
at County Animal Control.
I know I'll miss her
(and perhaps her longtime dog friend too will mourn),
but maybe she'll be reunited
with her "father," George.
Her tail once more a-wag, her stance once more alert,
and buoyant step restored.
Goodbye, sweet Suzy, first dog of my life:
my introduction to a joy and challenge
unlike another.
Good bye, rest well, sweet Suzy.
(12/18/95, from personal archives)
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