The old dog’s out under the willow tree
They said.
The two women led me there.
I knelt down to stroke his fur.
I supposed he knew why I was there.
Turning to ask the women a question
but
they were gone.
I was scared.
How could I go ahead and inject the drug
that would end the pain
forever
by myself.
I wanted the women back
To help me do this.
Help me hold the dog
so I could do the deed.
Turning back to the dog
I was startled to see that
He was holding out his leg to me.
The eyes said I’m ready just do it.
Applying the tourniquet, I found the vein easily.
Viscous pink fluid squeezed in.
The eyes closed and
body relaxed after so much pain.
Together under the willow for a while
A breeze fluffed up from somewhere.
Tickling it’s way through his fur,
the branches,
and my hair.
Me and the tree and the dog
were all connected at that moment,
swirling.
I knew where the breeze had come from.
Life was different for me after that.
3 comments:
Wow. Amazing.
Thank you so much for sharing this.
While I don't "like" euthanasia (who would?), I have had some very powerful experiences. During the very brief moment between being alive and death, some sort of energy gets liberated. A soul? I don't know.
Amazing poem, amazing story.
I was finishing a book this morning that took place on a farm. The protagonist was helping a sheep deliver twin lambs, and it was described thus: "It was all of such elemental simplicity, so close to the border between life and death.
Those are holy times.
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