I feel the cold of metal on my fingertips;
It was my dog's old collar.
It felt unfair that he was taken away from my life so quickly;
But he is free from suffering and has God as a new owner.
The breeze whistles over a freshly-dug grave;
Yet the pain is gone, the cut halfway healed,
And everything feels like a twisted, wicked dream.
I pretend that the coyotes hadn't taken him, that he is just on a vacation.
But in my heart, in the part that still mourns, I see through the lie.
Soon I will reach a time when memories bring smiles instead of tears;
But until that breakthrough,
I am glad my precious puppy is in the care of God.