Jack Cassidy wrote:
> I believe the end may be near, Not for me but this damn dog. Seventeen
years
> ago Licorice came home with my wife, She was only supposed to stay for
the
> weekend and I was to give her to my boss when I went to work on Monday.
I
> like dogs, Just not this dog. She is a little black poodle that had been
> abused by a man, so she wasn't fond of me either. By Sunday evening I
knew
> that we were stuck with this dog for good, Patti begged, "Pleeeeeeeeze
can't
> I keep her?" Okay, Keep the damn dog, Your responsibility, your dog.
Here I
> am, seventeen years later and still have the dog. We lost Patti on
October
> 1, 1996. At the time of her death she had three pets, Dexter the Cat,
> Poochie, The Beagle and Licorice. Poochie was the first to go, in
1999,
> Poor dog had cancer and when it became painful we did the right, but
painful
> thing and had her put down. Dexter survived until 2003 and died from
kidney
> failure. These were Patti's animals, and one by one we lost them. Each
time
> it was severing another string that tied us to Patti. Through the years
> Licorice and I have sort of come to an unspoken agreement, I'll leave
her
> alone and she won't try to bite me. I remember how Licorice would sit at
the
> bottom of the steps looking for Patti to say "Come on girls bedtime" and
the
> two dogs would scamper up the steps and jump in bed with her. Three
years
> before she finally quit looking, It was a sad thing to watch, How do you
> tell a dog that her best friend is gone forever? Hell, I still don't
> understand it.
> So, Now Licorice's health is failing, She is deaf as a stone, Her eye
sight
> is failing, and she has a hard time holding her bladder. Probably some
time
> in the not so distant future I expect to find her dead one
morning.........
> Big old emotional me, I'll probably cry.
>
>
My little dog ten years ago
Was arrogant and spry,
Her backbone was a bended bow
For arrows in her eye.
Her step was proud, her bark was loud,
Her nose was in the sky,
But she was ten years younger then,
And so, by God, was I.
Small birds on stilts along the beach
Rose up with piping cry,
And as they flashed beyond her reach
I thought to see her fly.
If natural law refused her wings,
That law she would defy,
For she could do unheard-of things,
And so, at times, could I.
Ten years ago she split the air
To seize what she could spy;
Tonight she bumps against a chair,
Betrayed by milky eye.
She seems to pant, Time up, time up!
My little dog must die,
And lie in dust with Hector's pup;
So, presently, must I.
--Ogden Nash
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