pack rules

it was you
who taught us the importance
of keeping the pack together

you who would wait at the front windows
when it was time for us to get home from work
you who would leave me once i was settled
to go wait at the window again
for melissa to arrive

when your senses
started to fail you
you would leave the room
with both of us in it
to go look for us
in all of the other rooms of the house
sometimes camping out
outside the master bathroom
if the door was closed
thinking melissa was still in there
and waiting patiently
until we realized where you had gone
and got up to find you
and bring you back

and now that you are gone
somehow all your searching for us
in those last few weeks
when we were right there
makes a perfect inverted sense
as we continue to look for you

expecting you to come running up to us
as we open the door into the house from the garage

turning around in the kitchen
holding out an almost empty casserole dish
that needs your attention

and waiting to hear the click of your toenails
coming down the hallway
every night
as we get ready for bed.

the kind of dog

we always joked about
how you were not the kind of dog
to run away

you were the kind of dog
who if you escaped from the house
without us noticing
would never leave our unfenced yard
and would be back at the door minutes later
scratching on it to be let back in

as you got older
we talked about how some dogs
know they are dying
and if given the chance
will walk out into the woods
and simply lie down forever

we didn't think you had
that kind of instict
but the last day before you died

you went out your dog door
to an area of the back yard
i had finally fenced in with chicken wire
a few weeks earlier
and when you didn't come back in
after fifteen minutes
melissa went out to check on you
and you were lying down in the grass
at the far edge of the fence
completely asleep

when she told me
she had found you there
like that
i imagined if the fence hadn't been there
you wouldn't have either.

in case i needed to explain this

in your last year
that we did not know would be your last
only knowing that you were officially old
we would set aside a day every month or so
and that day was simply for you
it was a day of giving you
whatever it was you wanted

those days were filled with dentabone treats
the pack taking long walks outside
shorter and shorter sessions of fetch in the backyard
letting you outside as many times as you wanted
and sitting on the back porch
watching you take your nose on tour
around the perimeter of our yard
and on the colder days
hours of napping on the couch
nestled between melissa's legs
and covered by her pink snuggie
as she studied

after your seizures started
and the cancer diagnosis was confirmed
every day became one of those days
every sunday morning we put
boneless skinless chicken breasts
into the crockpot along with
whatever vegetables we thought
we could trick you into eating

and melissa
who you had taken such good care of
never straying from her side
over the many months of her sicknesses
returned your favors so elegantly
packaging you on the couch
with a turquiose colored pillow
under your chin
and a blanket draped just so
across your body
always knowing
if you wanted your head covered or not

as your coordination faded further
and after you fell off the couch
and onto your back without a sound of complaint
you were wary of the altitude
keeping instead to your bed on the floor
and melissa would get up to rearrange your bed
and re-blanketize you
more times than anyone could imagine

in the last few weeks
these days of giving you
whatever it was you wanted
became harder and harder for her to take
and not because she saw so clearly
the increasing slope of your decline
not because you would get up from your bed
every five minutes
dig at the covers
look at her and whine
not because she had to get up
and help you get settled again

not because you needed so much

what tore at her the hardest
was simply that she couldn't figure out
what it was you wanted

what hurt her the most
was not being able to help you.