let’s see
if i can get a little bit of writing done
a little bit of wandering through my brain
a little bit of active meditation
before i start my day

my day, which is decidedly different
lonelier
lost
without her
(her being my dog
and i know it sounds over exaggerated
but damn,
those creatures have a way
of infecting every part of your life;
the companionship
throughout the day,
the routine that makes time
into a full day…
and now we are left
damn near floundering
looking
for something else to fill thee time
the void in our hearts where love needs to go
(our cat can only take so much affection, so…)
even going outside
feels cheapened
without her,
even naps
to pass this hard time
unconsciously
i’m unsure if i can do
because guess who
was the being i used to
nap with
you know who)

so a day
is just a day
not necessarily an adventure
not necessarily a struggle
it can just be a day
(maybe eve with some little adventures and struggles inside it)
and i’m unsure where i’m going
with this poem
and i’m unsure where i’m going
with my day
and i’m unsure where i’m going
with my life
but at least i have my kip and my cat
to hold and grieve
and to distract and entertain

and maybe
in a few days
or weeks
or months
there will be a new dog in the house
who needs our love
as much as we need them to receive ours
and Louka will be proud
of how well she trained us
to be such good dog parents

(and i hope
all my hope
that everything i’ve been saying
and assuming
and observing
was true:
that she did have a full dog life
in the nearly eight years she spent with us,
and that our love did block out
the struggle that was
her first six years of life,
and that she did enjoy this house
more than any other inside she was ever in,
and that when she dreamed, it was of running around our big Madison yard,
and that she wasn’t in too much pain
up until those last few days,
and that she was ready to go
when we[had to make]made that decision for her,
(she did
she really did
look like
she was looking for a place
like her soul was looking to escape
but her body was still holding on),
and i hope she knew
that when we held her
it was for love
and that she loved it
even though she sighed at us so much,
and there’s so many other things i wish
but if i think too much
the tears will come
and i won’t be able to do
much else today
except cry
(which i’ve already done
for days)
)

and wow
this poem started out
vaguely trying to
not
be about Louka
but that’s just how much
she’s infected our lives
and how much it feels wrong
to go from bed to wardrobe
without saying “excuse me, Louka,”
and to go from upstairs to downstairs
without some cajoling,
and to go from waking up
to morning pages and coffee
without a morning walk in-between,
and to go throughout a day
without worrying
when
walks are needed
and timing things out
and coming home to make sure
and checking in on the little donut dog on the couch
and i’m doing it again
falling into the trap
of writing lists
instead of dealing with emotions
and i hope Dog Heaven is real
and that we get to join her someday
and that she’s there now
learning
(from other dogs)
exactly how to play

(or not, whatever Louka wants)

whatever Louka wants