Our dog Luna is on her last legs. Literally. She will not see Christmas. If I were a better poet or a different poet, I would try writing a poem about her. I would write about sitting on the floor this morning feeding her a small can of wet food with a fork. Of adding in raw egg and Tramadol. Of giving her cheese. Or the way she eats very carefully mostly with just her tongue. She licks the food carefully off the fork.
Tobi needed to take her out for a walk so she laid pillows in the red wagon and pulled Luna along with the Radio Flyer. The other dogs came along too including Tobi and Molly’s dog Zooey. Zooey did not show Luna the proper respect and Luna snapped at Zooey. Almost at the end of her life, she still established herself as the alpha female.
Luna is dying and nothing will change that. I have no poem for her and even if I did, it wouldn’t help her. Everything is supposed to die at some point, everything and everyone. Even our dog Luna. We have two other dogs. Our American Eskimo JJ is pretty distraught about Luna and stays close to her as if to comfort her. She is clearly concerned. The boxer Ginger seems completely unconcerned. If she’s upset, it doesn’t show. Ginger is making plans to be the next alpha.dog.
Animals know what is happening with other animals. They are smarter than us. They feel the heart beating. They feel the life energy of other animals. It’s odd that we don’t feel each other’s energy as well as two dogs feel for each other. We look at each other and we don’t know what others are thinking, feeling. We don’t know what makes each other happy, sad or even afraid. We choose what masks we wear. We go to work pretending to be happy when we are sometimes angry. If we wear masks in our private life, then eventually, we don’t know who anyone is. Hopefully we know our own friends, our family, our lovers. Hopefully we know ourselves.
Luna’s been a good dog and she will be missed.