This afternoon I’ll help my friend’s dog die
A malamute, husky, shepherd mix she named Sky.
I met him first in the high desert 10 years ago
His shift from stray to pet was rocky and slow.
He jumped the fence to roam the brush
Chasing jackrabbits under stars’ milky hush.
Dogs who run every moment risk death
But those who do, value freedom more, life less.
Eventually, though, an ardent spirit dims
And so week-by-week it happened for him,
With food and water, praise, a place soft to sleep,
Someone, yes! to watch over him, for him to also keep.
I won’t debate with you the veracity of animals’ souls
Nor whether death a compact completely annuls.
The heart knoweth a friend, Ralph Waldo in an essay writes
The challenge: to remain worthy as each day bleeds to night.
I’ve watched the fading course of many final breaths
While I’ve shared time with our eventual visitor (death).
And so for Sky, as for others, human, pet, creatures wild
Death’s breath will shape itself sour, sweet, strong or mild.
Irrefutably life consists of both death and birth
And both we must carefully, wholly, fairly nurse.