Casey by Sheryl Schlieman

Casey

by Sheryl Schlieman

She always came, whenever I called........... Sometimes carrying an old tennis ball. The door never opened, that she wasn't there, and the bond we shared, was a true love affair. There was an instinct about her, like a seventh sense, She could always tell, if I were happy or tense. A worker, a helper, a soulmate to me; She was my mothers eyes, when I couldn't see. A smart ole girl; she could sit or stay.......... Though sometimes she would choose, to do it her way! A stranger in her life, she never met; As she approached each acquaintance, hoping to be pet! On evening walks, she was first out the door; And no matter how long, she could always walk more., She'd run up ahead, sniff everything out; Then back to me, before continuing her route. Occasionally, she'd stop, dead in her tracks; As if sensing danger, so she'd hurry back. She'd cautiously proceed, then take off with a run; Foolishly forgetting, the protector, she's become! No matter what room, I was, in the house; She'd quietly follow, and curl up like a mouse. She knew all the rituals. as we'd get ready for bed; Then climb up beside me, so I could stroke her head. And there would be times, when I could feel her stare; I'd glance all around and she'd be sitting there. It was almost as if, she could read my mind; A faithful companion, awaiting my sign. Sometimes I would hear her, let out a sigh...... Though I only imagined that I understood why. Perhaps she was dreaming, of her greatest fear; That she might wake up, and I wouldn't be near. People would laugh and say it was "sick" The way I loved, my dog and her tricks...... But I just ignored their ignorant touts, I knew it was them, who was missing out. But time went by, and my dear friend grew old..... She could no longer do, all the things she was told. The desire was there; It was in her eyes, But she was unable to play, Though she always tried. She grew too weak, to jump on my bed; And the day came too soon, that I had always dread. And there are still nights, when I think she's still there..... I imagine I can feel her familiar stare. I reach out my hand, and I feel for her, Eager to stroke, that shiny silk fur. Longing to feel her loving care. But then I remember, she is no longer there. Oh how I wish that it wasn't true, That my faithful old friend, hadn't left me so soon. I don't think I'll be able to replace or repay; That devoted old dog, who left me that day.

Comments would be appreciated by the author, Sheryl Schliema