We trembled as we drove our dying dog Sandy to the emergency vet clinic on Sunday, July 9. We trembled in grief when the vet gently laid her now lifeless body on the examination table--no more wagging tail or huge doggy smile. I wrote these lines for Sandy.

Whatever you thought
I never knew,
but your voice
always made my tail dance.
Pant.
When I rolled over
on my back,
Your hand was there
to stroke or scratch.
Pant.
When I would go
out to yard-explore,
You always opened the door
and let me in to lap the water dish.
Pant.
Morning and night,
you always gave me fowl or fish.
I always wanted more;
I am a dog, after all.
Pant.
But it was also always enough,
Every moment enough
But never full
Ready for more,
to give and give;
That's what I was
and am made for.
Pant no more.